Page 71 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“You deserve more than I can give,” Heath said quietly.
Her snort was soft and amused and Heath felt a bit agitated. “What is so humorous?” he said, frowning.
“You, darling blind man,” she chided softly while smiling. Carding her hand in the soft hairs behind his head she elaborated. “I don’t need those things to make me happy.”
He felt he already knew but had to ask anyway, “What do you need then?”
“For you to kiss me,” she whispered with a trembling voice. “I don’t have the bravery to do it again.”
Drawing her close he framed a hand around the back of her head, the other under her jaw and leaned in. Her lips parted in anticipation, but he did not kiss her. He softly bushed his nose to hers and breathed out on her lips when he felt her shudder. His lips pressed on her cheek first, dragging slowly to her lips and then, when he could feel her need, he claimed her lips, softly.
She clung to his shoulders as the kiss deepened and only when his lungs screamed for air, he reluctantly pulled away, as breathless as she was.
“Again,” she said, and Heath smiled. This kiss was tender with gossamer touches and shivering skin.
“You taste like peppermint,” Heath said to her ear as she was resting on his chest.
Having her in her arms, so warm and lithe, felt like the last puzzle piece being slotted into the whole. She completed him and he wanted it to stay that way as long as possible. In that dark stable, cut off from the world of etiquette and customs, right and wrong perceptions made by their stifling society, Heath wanted to shut the world out and stay in the snippet of a world they had created.
“Heath…” Penelope said.
“Hm?”
She pulled away, “Take me for a ride, on Duke.”
He titled his head, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please,”
His thumb ran down the line of her neck and her eyes fluttered closed. Smirking, Heath said, “I’ll get him saddled.”
Coaxing Duke out of the stall, Heath quickly saddled him with a rather long saddle and after slipping the bit through his teeth laid the reins on his back. He turned and then he first saw what Penelope was wearing—breeches. And by god, did the lady look wonderful in breeches. Her hair was in a braid over the shoulder of her white shirt, an ensemble he could only think was stolen from her brother.
He reached out for her and she took his hand but before she could think, he moved it, grasped her by the waist and lifted her up onto the saddle without any strain. She gasped and he grinned. “Hercules, where art thou?”
In response, Heath grasped the pommel and with a foot in the stirrup lifted himself up to sit behind her. The winter air was nippy, slithering under their clothes to trace icy fingers over warm skin. Heath wrapped his arms around her, and she sat back into his hold with a lovely sigh.
The moon was a scythe above them, with red-gold light shining down on the path Heath nudged Duke toward. It was the same adjacent field, but he avoided the section where Penelope had fallen. The grass was a dark carpet over the land and the trees were black silhouettes in the distance.
“Heath…” Penelope said, “I love you too.”
Her words sliced through his chest and the glee he should have felt was changed to despair. A tightness closed around his throat like a vice and he could only duck his head to kiss the soft sliver of skin over the collar of the shirt. Closing his arms around her, he guided Duke with one hand.
This is it…one ultimate, incomparable moment that I will treasure for the rest of my life when I have to leave…
“Sweetheart….” he felt hesitant. “I—”
Then, the air pulsed and the loud crack of a fiery explosion blasted the air in two as heat washed over them. Heath spun Duke around to see a plume of flame coming from, God’s blood, the stables.
Panic hit Heath so badly that it took all his training to keep calm. Penelope, however, was about to spring off the horse when he took tight hold of her and spurred Duke to run. They got there just as another plume engulfed the roof. The horses were whinnying in fear and panic and the only thing Heath could think was the Bessie was inside,
He jumped off and took Penelope off the horse. She made to run inside the blazing building, but he stopped her.
“Go home!” he ordered, “Go home Penelope, you cannot be caught here. Please, love, run home.”
She was pale but understood. As she ran off, something crashed to the floor, a loosed beam from the roof most likely. The horses, Heath had to get to the horses. Suddenly, servants came racing in like a mad swarm of bees.
Tugging off his shirt, Heath ripped in in threes, tied one around his nose and the others around his hands. He went to the door and blistering heat singed his tender eyes. The door was latched shut! How the hell had that happened? He had left it open. Grabbing the blistering beam, Heath heaved and managed to release the latch while ash and dust flew into his eyes.
