Page 12 of In Compromise with the Earl
Tuning, his eyes landed on her, but with infinite slowness his gaze traveled from her fine lawn shirt-covered torso to down to her slender waist and hips and incredibly long legs covered in butter-brown breeches and a gleaming pair of black riding boots. Her blonde hair was unbound and fell around her shoulders in a tangled mass of curls.
“Never mind,” he said, reaching to lead Goliath out into the open—but she stepped into his way.
“If you would just tell me what I did to offend you, we will part in peace,” she said. “You needn’t raise your hackles every time you see me again.”
“Hackles,” he parroted emptily. “You mistake anger for indifference, My Lady. Let me assure you, if my hackles were up, this would be a completely different situation.”
She crossed her arms under her bosom, unduly drawing his eyes to it. “You still have not told me what I have done.”
“There is no need to,” he said. “Now, please move before Goliath steps on your head.”
“No.”
“No?” he asked.
She tilted her chin up and defiance flashed in her eyes. “Are you old enough to have lost your hearing? I said no.”
Moving his hand with lightning quick speed, he reached out and grasped her piquant chin.Tilting her face up, he gave her a stern glare that said he was reaching the end of his rope and that enough was enough.
“You had best watch your tongue, young lady,” Oswald growled as he was quickly losing patience with the mouthy little chit.
Red stained her arched cheekbones, and her eyes flashed rebelliously at him. They were standing boot to boot, with neither backing down. Her pure defiance; clean, feminine scent; heaving breasts; and red cheeks nearly undid him.
She glared.”And if I don’t?” His fingers flexed with the need to shake her for being so stubborn, for standing in his way. He wanted to haul her out of the way…or haul her into his arms and kiss her until she swooned.
“Well for starters, I could turn you over my knee,” Oswald said. “Little hellions like you need a firm hand.”
Her mouth dropped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I?” he countered, his voice soft and low, yet unmistakably threatening. He would not lay a hand on her, of course, but she didn’t know that. Instead, he dropped the leading reins and advanced on her.
With every step he took, she took one backward until her back came against the wall. She laid her hands flat on the wall while he bracketed her head with his elbows. As he leaned in, she made a strangled sound, and he saw her cheeks flush with arousal rather than aversion.
Claire seemed sweet and passionate too, yet she played you like a fool.
“Sometimes, little lady, you need to leave well enough alone,” he said quietly.
Her chin notched up—again, and her breath came panting through her bitten lips. It was alluring and despite his warning to stay far from her, his body reacted. “Another thing I have not mastered.”
He snorted, despite the arousal thrumming through his blood. “I’m not surprised. What are you doing here anyway dressed like a tomboy?”
“I came to see if I could ride that horse,” she said. “I thought it belonged to Lady Pandora and I was going to see if I could take a ride.”
He grasped the reins and shot her a pointed look. “And what do you know about riding a stallion?’
Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, and Oswald realized the double entendre in his words. But then a smirk curved her lips. “I have a chestnut and a bay stallion at home, both eighteen hands. I ride both without trouble.”
Oswald knew her words were a goad, he saw it in her eyes. Though warning bells rang in his head, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from drawing her even closer. Instead of meeting her parting lips, he dipped his head to her neck and laid a closed mouth kiss there.
Her shiver made him proud as he lifted his mouth to her ear. “Stay away from me, little lady.”
Pulling away, he grasped the horse’s reins and steered Goliath out into the yard without looking back. Quickly, he stuck his boot in the stirrup and swung his leg over. Seated he steered the mount in the direction he wanted and spurred the horse on.
Soon, the run turned into a gallop and a sprint. Goliath loved running and as he hit his stride, they were flying. All he felt was thrill, the worries and distress he held like rocks in his chest felt light. He knew it was a temporary change, and that as soon as the rush in his blood died down, the heaviness would come back, but not yet.
Not as the wind was rushing through his hair and clogging his ears, not when the land rushed by in blurs, not when the power and control he had over his horse made him feel like a king. It was moments like these that allowed him to be free, that made him feel undefeatable, that made him forget the past and not even care about the future. It made him feel alive.
It took three runs to remember that he was being watched. When he turned and brushed the hair from his eyes, he saw Lady Aphrodite, standing near a post, the wind lifting her hair and an enigmatic look on her face.
