Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King
of grass to suck. As he slipped it between his firm lips, for one heady moment she considered launching herself at him—but she knew he would only make a joke of it, so she settled back with her head on the grass… Close enough to hear him breathing, but far enough away to keep a hold on what remained of her sanity.
‘It was good to have you at the château last night,’ he said lazily, almost as if it was too much effort to speak. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’
Had she enjoyed herself? How could she begin to tell him? Kate wondered, pausing before she spoke. ‘It was a wonderful moment when your mother walked in.’
‘As it was for her to see you,’ Guy said softly. ‘I can assure you of that.’
‘And the meal was delicious, the wine too,’ Kate said as every moment came flooding back in minute detail. ‘And the setting is superb, but then, of course, you know that.’ She stopped as he hummed a response that seemed to demand more from her. But what more could she say? When Megan had left for the cottage the air had been charged with something indefinable—something of her own conjuring, she knew that now. At the time she had thought it a tension they both felt—but now she knew she was wrong. Oh, he had kissed her—on the cheek when he took her home. But earlier, when she had tried to make it something more, he had taken her wrists in a careful grip and gently pushed her away. Of course, there was still the puzzle of that one kiss, the first kiss on her return… There had been nothing remotely chaste about that…
‘Daydreaming, Kate?’
Now it was her turn to hum a noncommittal response that answered nothing.
‘Last night,’ Guy prompted patiently, leaning on one elbow to look down at her. ‘Was it all right for you?’
Right question, wrong occasion, Kate thought ruefully, smothering a smile as she rolled away from him on to her stomach. ‘I had a wonderful evening. So did Megan.’
‘That’s good,’ Guy murmured, trailing a strand of grass across the back of her neck, ‘because I’m thinking of asking you again.’
‘Really?’ Kate’s heart was thumping as she turned to stare up at him.
‘Yes, I thought I might show you the dungeons this time. What do you think?’
‘The same dungeons Megan thinks you should be locked up in?’ Kate said.
‘The very same,’ Guy admitted in a teasing drawl as he ran his strand of grass down her naked arm. His lips curved with satisfaction as he watched her quivering reaction. ‘Still as sensitive as ever, Kate?’ He sounded pleased.
It used to be called ticklish years back…and ticklish was a harmless definition, sensitive was not, Kate realised, as she indulged herself for a few private moments in the waves of arousal buffeting her senses. ‘Tell me about your dungeons,’ she said huskily, hoping to distract him. She relaxed her head down on to her folded arms and waited… After all, she told herself as she waited for him to embellish her erotic fantasies, she had never had the opportunity to visit them.
‘They’re dark and quiet and dry—’ Guy began very softly as he turned his attention to the back of her neck again, brushing the soft red-gold hair aside as he began to pass the tip of the meadow grass across the warm translucent skin with slow rhythmical strokes ‘—and warm and extremely private.’
‘And what happens in them these days?’ She could barely stop herself moving on the warm earth so immense was the sensual overload.
‘That all depends on who’s in there at the time,’ Guy murmured.
Kate held her breath. She could feel his warm breath on her ear, ruffling her hair, caressing her skin—surely this was the moment…
‘Shall we paddle?’
‘Paddle?’ Brutally jolted out of her reverie, Kate could only roll over and stare up at him in surprise.
But even that was a mistake, because now Guy was above her and she was under his shadow with nowhere else to look but straight into his eyes. He had positioned himself as if he might kiss her—he only had to lower himself down an inch or two and…
‘I think the cold water would refresh us both,’ he said, pulling away to sit on his haunches. Then, springing to his feet, he toed off his riding boots and yelled, ‘Come on, Kate. Last one into the water’s a sissy!’
Kate’s limbs felt as if they had rubber where bones used to be and there was so much heat between her thighs she was almost more eager than he was to reach the safety of the water… At least there he wouldn’t know that her thong was so wet she was concerned the proof of the effect he had on her might soak right through the thin muslin skirt. In her rush to get there she tore heedlessly down the bank after him, lost her footing and would have gone flying past him to land on the heaps of stones that lined the water’s edge if Guy hadn’t reached out to catch her in his arms.
‘You never could bear to lose a dare,’ he said, his face close above hers as he held her suspended above the water.’
‘Let me go!’ Kate insisted, struggling fiercely. And he did. Dropping her at his feet so that for a moment she was completely submerged. ‘Beast!’ she railed, springing up to launch herself at him. She was lucky. She caught him off-balance and before either of them could do anything about it they were both flat on their backs under the water. Guy recovered first, pulling her to her feet in front of him with a harsh, very masculine laugh.
‘In the olden days I could have had you locked up in my dungeons for that,’ he observed, his even white teeth a visible line of masculine pride in his strong tanned face as he held her at arm’s length in front of him. ‘Or flogged—’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Kate flared back at him.
For a moment they just stood there passionate and wild, all identity stripped away as they confronted each other in the middle of the stream. The air was electric between them. Kate’s clothes were soaking and proved that she wore nothing underneath except for her tiny thong and Guy, with his thick black hair flicked around the harsh planes of his wet cheeks, bare-chested with his breeches like a second skin, looked like some wild gypsy baron, rather than the educated French aristocrat he was. Then with a shriek of defiance, Kate launched a kick that doused him with water again. Seeing the look on his face she shrieked again, this time with excitement as the chase began.
He let her get away at first—he always had. But then he ran her down at the entrance to the glade—Kate’s glade—the silent, leafy place where she’d used to hide as a child. Once she was inside the circle of trees it was possible to believe she had found some mystical Neverland where no one ever came—where even the birdsong was muted and the sunlight was only allowed to intrude if it came dressed in shimmering shafts of light… Slides for fairies, Kate used to think once, as she gazed up their slopes. Now she kicked her legs through them in furious defiance as Guy carried her in his arms across the clearing.
‘Now what do I do with you?’ he demanded, setting her down at his feet on a rolling green carpet of moss.
‘Let me go,’ she muttered mutinously.
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ he said, dropping to his knees beside her.
‘Which is?’ Kate demanded as she threw a cascade of tousled golden hair back from her face.
‘This,’ he said simply, drawing her into his arms.
KATE was still riding the wave of passion and excitement from the chase and it only took the smallest shift for that energy to change direction. The touch of Guy’s hard chest against the scant protection of her wet blouse was enough. And this time she was on an unstoppable rollercoaster ride that swept every rule aside. With a sharp cry of intent she lashed her arms around his neck in an attempt to put an end to the torment once and for all. Why not kiss him and