Page 55 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
They came upon a large clearing with ample spaces to gallop. Grinning, Harriet threw out the challenge, “To the end and back, as fast as you can.”
“What’s the stakes?” Daniel asked.
“If you win, you can ask me anything you’d like, and if I do, I’ll do the same,” Harriet replied, flashing him a self-assured grin, while Daniel moved his horse to her side, “On my word…now!”
The horses bolted over the snow-covered land, kicking up snow under their hooves. Delighted by the cold air in her face and the thrum of excitement in her chest, Harriet spurred her mount on, dashing to the end of the clearing and wheeling her horse around like a trained jockey.
Daniel was right behind her, and for a moment, she thought of dropping back to let him win—but didn’t. Her horse took off again, and she stood in the stirrups as a seasoned racer would. From the corner of her eyes, she spotted the flared nostrils of Daniel’s horse as it headed forward, but she was lighter and dashed across the invisible finish line half a breath before Daniel did.
Reining her horse in, Harriet laughed out in exhilaration; she loved racing, but rarely was she allowed to do so under the watchful eyes of her sisters who stressed it was unladylike.
When she turned—Daniel’s saddle was empty. Scared that he had fallen, she looked around—but then hands grabbed her and lifted her off the horse as if she weighed nothing.
“Cheater,” Daniel accused.
With her breasts still heaving from the excitement, Harriet mock glared, “I won. Please tell me you are not one of those men whose pride is grievously wounded after a woman has bested them.”
“Assuredly not,” Daniel scoffed, “but I did warn you how I would feel if you did best me at the race.”
“If my memory serves me well, you said, if we go riding and you’re better than I am, then we might have a problem.” Harriet laced her arms around his neck, and gave him a cheeky smile. “Now that I have, what difficulty are you facing?”
“Now?” Daniel asked as his gaze darkened, and his fingers slid to the back of her neck. “None, whatsoever.”
There was a brief, breath-taking moment before he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was deep, and sensual; the intimate stroke of his tongue against hers was gratifying, and so stimulating to her senses, Harriet nearly went weak in her knees.
It would explain how they ended up in the snow soon after, with Daniel laying on top of her body. The cold beneath her made a little mark to the heat his body made on top of her, even more, when she parted her legs for him to rest between them.
She wrapped her leg around his, slipping her shin up his calf; Daniel’s hand was still under her neck, protecting her tender skin from the ice, as he gave her tantalizing kisses. She gasped when Daniel spun them, and in a sudden turn, she was on top.
With her knees straddling him, Harriet felt his arousal under her bottom. Rocking slightly on his groin, she taunted him a little. Daniel grabbed her hips, “Stop that.”
Mischievously, Harriet leaned over on her elbows, “Page two hundred and fifteen, of another book, ‘The Misdemeanors of Miss Jane’, and it reads,‘When she reached the autumn clearing, there he was, her lover, Baron. He laid in a patch of wildflowers, shirtless and inviting, gazing at her with a look that said they would be one that night.’”
Dark eyes narrowed as Harriet blithely went about her tale.
‘She dashed into his side, and he took her with his hands as she sank to the grass, under him, their hungry bodies soon bare and entwined, squeezing and thrusting,’ she said. ‘Bodies entwined in the ancient dance of lovemaking, skin slickened by the mist of the humid night and the passions of their bodies, they—'
Daniel spun them again, and she ended back in the snow, “Your narrative, Dear, is dangerous.”
As Harriet opened her mouth to speak once more, Daniel closed hers with a quick kiss, but that didn’t stop Harriet. Every time she started to talk, he kissed her quickly, enough times that eventually Harriet gave up on speaking and succumbed to a long kiss, reveling in the passion of it until the cold began to seep through her layers.
Framing his face with both hands, she said, “I’m afraid if I lay in the snow any longer, I might transform into an icicle.”
His lips twisted, “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Daniel stood them up, plucked his wool frock coat off, and placed it on Harriet’s body. The long sleeves passed her wrists and hung comically to her knees.
“We should get back, before you become ill,” he said.
Reaching up, Harriet smoothed an errant lock from his eyes. Looking at the light heartedness in his eyes, she felt her heart fluttering out of rhythm. Daniel had awoken a strange feeling inside her; the empathy she felt for him about his mother and the pain she felt for him at his abandonment at the altar had been the first block.
Their lively bantering, the exciting thrill she felt when they danced, not to mention the scintillating delight of their kisses, added another block to him, and combined, they made a tight ball of emotions to rest on her chest that hurt when she swallowed over it.
Was she in danger of falling in love with him? No, no, that couldn’t be…there was no place for love, or any other feelings in their transaction, but the warmth and pain in her chest were telling her otherwise. Still, she didn’t want to listen.
“I love…Christmastide but not the snow,” Harriet caught herself from sayingyou. “We should get back, yes.”
Daniel took a moment to roll up the sleeves of his coat to free her hands so she could grasp the reins. He then lifted Harriet to her horse and then mounted his. His touch still lingered on her skin and lips as they rode back to the Manor.
