Page 41 of Romancing the Scot
Despite everything, her pride wouldn’t allow her to appear weak. She wouldn’t complain. She would be the master of the situation. When they left the buildings behind and Hugh commanded his massive steed to “trot on,” she pushed her horse to a canter in an effort at looking proficient. Nearly falling off a half-dozen times before slowing the gelding to a trot, Grace shuddered to think how ridiculous she must have looked, lurching and swaying ahead of him like a drunken hussar.
There was no point in suggesting that they go to the village rather than the loch. Whatever she’d wanted, her plan changed when Hugh showed up instead of his sister.
Thankfully, the torture being inflicted on her legs and arse soon came to an end. After riding for a short time through what appeared to be an ancient forest of oak and fir groves, they reached a clearing of meadow grass dotted with wildflowers of yellow, white, and violet. Beyond a line of pines, she espied a glimpse of a narrow loch.
She was exceedingly relieved when he reined in his horse and suggested they dismount and walk a bit before heading back.
Grace watched her companion’s smooth dismount and looked down at the contraption she was clinging to. She had no idea how the blazes was she going to get down.
Hugh left his stallion and approached. “This will be easier than mounting.”
“That isn’t saying much.”
Her dignity called for her to make easy work of it. She’d dismounted from horses, saddled or bareback, thousands of times. She could do this. But she quickly realized she was to be foiled by a leg and a buttock that had lost all feeling.
“If you gather your skirts and release your knee, I’d be happy to assist you.”
He was standing very close, his hands extended, ready to help.
“I can handle this,” she said, sharper than she’d intended. She wanted to leap down with no assistance, but the gelding was becoming restless. Gathering the voluminous skirts in her hand was turning out to be a serious obstacle as she tried to free her leg from the saddle crutch.
“Before you do that, first release your foot from the slipper stirrup and loop.”
The skirts were beginning to frustrate her. Giving no thought to modesty, she hauled them up to her knee and kicked her foot out of the stirrup.
“Nowremove your right leg from the crutch.”
Her leg wouldn’t cooperate.
Hugh waited as she made one last attempt to manage it on her own. Finally, he reached up and grasped her by the waist. Lifting her from the saddle, he gently lowered her to the ground.
Her right leg, dangling like a broken willow branch, collapsed under her as he set her down. As she struggled to balance on her other leg, the restless gelding, relieved of his rider, bumped her, and she fell into Hugh.
Grace’s lips pressed against soft wool. Her arms were around him, clutching his riding coat. She smelled the fresh air and the man, and her mind emptied of all complaints. Her body filled with a feeling as old as womanhood. Time stood still. She brushed her cheek against his shoulder and allowed herself to savor the moment, fancying a dream that could never be. The pins-and-needles sensation in her leg hindered her from stepping away from him. He didn’t complain.
When she felt able to put her weight on that limb, she started to back up but the slight pressure of his hand on the small of her back made Grace pause.
Her gaze moved slowly up past the strong chin to his lips. She wanted him to kiss her. She looked up and was relieved to see a similar need in the depths of his gray eyes. He was staring at her lips.
His fingers softly traced the line of her jaw, and a delicious tremor rippled through her.
“Step away and I won’t kiss you.”
His voice was deep, inviting her to play. But the decision was hers. He was leaving it to her like last night. She could walk away . . . and for the rest of her life regret not experiencing this moment.
Grace rose on her toes and brushed her lips ever so softly across his.
She felt every muscle in his body stiffen. Emboldened, she looked up into his eyes and placed feathery soft kisses on his lips.
His mouth fell on hers, hard and fast, and when her lips parted in wonder and delight, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. He kissed her hungrily and without restraint, erasing any memory of the chaste kisses of her youth. Her body responded to the play of their lips. Desire like she’d never known erupted within her, racing like fire through her veins. She wanted more.
Grace found herself short of breath. Her heart hammered like the pounding of cannons. Hugh’s kiss was undoing her, melting her. She was like clay in his embrace, her mouth yielding to his mouth, her body molding to his body. She raised herself higher, and her arms encircled his neck. She felt rather than heard his groan of pleasure as her breasts pressed against his chest.
Fast. Think. Wrong.Inside of her, a battle raged.Now. Desire. Right.
She wanted the fires of passion to rule this moment, but it could not be. It was wrong. Hugh didn’t know the truth about her, and she was adding to her wrongs with what she’d started. It had to stop now.
Grace forced her trembling fingers between their bodies, and she pressed against his chest. He immediately ended the kiss and stepped back.
