Page 48 of The Secret Love of a Gentleman
Caro was soaked. Her hair clung to her scalp, while her wet habit defined every curve of her body. Rain dripped from her nose and her chin as it did his.
‘Come on.’ He led the way into the woods, leading her marewhile she led his stallion. ‘It should only be a few yards through the undergrowth, then we’ll pick up the track.’
Under the trees the rain did not fall so heavily but dripped on them from the canopy of leaves as they forced a path through the bracken.
When they reached the track, another flash brightened the sky, and a second or so later thunder trembled through the trees.
The animals tugged on their reins, so they stopped to calm them.
Rob looked around. ‘Is there anywhere to take shelter?’ They were far from Drew’s and John’s houses.
‘There’s a charcoal-burner’s cottage somewhere in the woods. It’s never used now. It’s somewhere along the tracks.’
‘We will try to find it then. Right or left?’
‘Left. I would guess it is on the track towards your brother’s mansion.’
The wind blew a shower of raindrops from the leaves. He shook his head, shaking the water from his hair like a dog.
After a few minutes of walking, Caro pointed at something. ‘It’s there. Look. I see it.’
So could he. It was a small, oblong, whitewashed, thatched, single-storey hut.
A flash brightened the sky above them and at the same time it was as if the sky had been torn open as thunder cracked and shook the trees. The mare tried to rear, but Rob held her tight and soothed her.
They led the horses into the clearing before the hut.
There was a lean-to on the side of it, which was broad enough to stable the horses. He walked the mare over to it. The animals would at least be out of the rain and hopefully feel more secure. He tied the reins of both horses on a wooden post in the frame,water dripping from his hair. Then released the girth straps under the horses’ bellies and lifted off their saddles. Caro stood to one side, her arms clutching across her chest as though she were cold.
‘Let’s go inside,’ he suggested. It was still raining.
When he pushed it, the door of the hut swung open. ‘Go in,’ he urged Caro.
There was a dirt floor, and a bed made from wooden boards. It was a labourer’s hut.
Caro’s eyes widened as she looked around, then she turned and looked at him.
The sudden thrust of thirst he had become used to caught in his throat. Her hand rose to the back of his neck. ‘I apologise to you now,’ she said as she drew his lips to hers.
‘You are forgiven,’ he said in the moment before the kiss began. This would most likely be their last kiss. He would treasure these moments with Caro for the rest of his life.
Her tongue danced around his with more urgency than usual.
His hands rested at the back of her wet habit on the damp velvet.
Another flash and another clap of thunder rattled the hut. The horses whinnied.
Her arms wrapped about his neck, drawing his attention away from the storm.
The heaviness in his groin solidified and his erection pressed against his trousers.
The thirst he knew the night she came to the library raged in his blood. Today, he did not have the excuse of liquor.
She broke the kiss. ‘Touch me.’
‘I am.’
‘I mean, touch me as you did the night of the dance.’ She pulled at the sodden cotton of his shirt, tugging it free from thewaist of his trousers. ‘I want to know this again before you leave.’
