Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

He came up behind her and slid an arm about her waist, pulling her delicious curves in against him and pinning her there. She doubled over, slapping at his arm with her hands, kicking her legs. Every movement she made intensified the pressure in his groin, until he thought he’d burst, and with a groan he let her go. She stumbled, fell, landing on her hands and knees, and suddenly it was perfect.

He dropped to his knees behind her, covering her back with his chest, his thighs fitted to hers, her soft bottom cushioning his cock. She turned her head, mouth open in protest, and he leaned down and kissed her.

“Let me,” he murmured, kissing her again, nuzzling at her nape, her hair, pushing his hips hard against her so that she could feel him.

“Oh,” she whispered, understanding.

It made him smile, as he loosened the back of her stays and slid his hands beneath her and cupped her breasts. Her nipples were hard with excitement, and when he gently tugged them, she arched her back in pleasure.

“This wasn’t…part of the…forfeit,” she managed.

“Wasn’t it? You knew it was, darling.”

He slipped down her drawers, hands cupping the globes of her bottom, parting her thighs. His fingers slid between them, finding the slick core of her, feeling her tremble.

She clenched her muscles about him, moving to gain the most pleasure, and he knew he couldn’t wait. Hastily he freed himself and thrust deep inside her, all the way, and groaned aloud with the exquisite pleasure of it. She pushed back against him, gasping. And in the green, secret shadows of the old maze, with one arm about her waist, the other cupping her breast, he took them both to sensual heaven.

“Miss Dupre!” Sir James Trevalen rose from a chair in the parlor, smiling in greeting.

It was morning of the following day, and when Mary had come upstairs to inform her that Sir James was there to see her, she’d immediately imagined the worst.

“Sir James.” Her eyes were round behind her glasses. “Have you come to tell me you’ve arrested the man who—”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to discover the wretch.”

She was so relieved, she only just remembered not to let him see her emotion. “But…you are still looking?”

“Of course. It is my job as magistrate to see that justice is done.”

At that moment Mrs. Wonicot brought in a tray with tea and cakes, and was duly complimented by Sir James. He seemed to be on good terms with her, and although unsurprised, Antoinette was certain it was not because he was friends with Lord Appleby. The two men were worlds apart.

“You knew Sir John Langley?” she ventured, when the housekeeper had gone.

“Yes.” He looked surprised. “A grand old gentleman.”

“He seems to have been well regarded. Did he have any family?”

Sir James hesitated, but when he spoke his voice was even and without subterfuge. “There was the daughter, Priscilla. She never married and went a little odd. She used to concoct all sorts of herbal remedies for the villagers. Then there was a son, Adam. I haven’t seen him for a very long time.”

“How old would Adam be now?” she inquired.

“Oh, fifty years and more, I should say. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Curiosity, I suppose. So there were no other children here? No other family members who made this their home?”

Sir James tapped his cheek. “Children? I suppose some of the servants had children, and the tenants.” He gave her an innocent look.

Antoinette gave up. If the highwayman was telling the truth, and had walked the maze as a child, then she wouldn’t discover his identity from Sir James. She hadn’t seen her lover since he tricked her into the maze and pleasured her so thoroughly, but she intended to question him the next time.

“And now Lord Appleby is the owner of Wexmoor Manor,” Antoinette said quietly, watching Sir James’s face.

His smile didn’t shift. “He is. Quite a prize, having such an important and wealthy man moving down here. We’re hoping he will interest himself in local affairs.”

Antoinette smiled back, but she didn’t believe him. He was lying. Everyone at Wexmoor Manor was lying, and they couldn’t all be in league with Lord Appleby.

When the tea was poured and cake offered, Sir James leaned forward and said, “You seem more content than you did when you last visited me. I hope you are recovered from your, eh, shock. It would be a shame if it spoiled your stay here.”

“A great shame.” Antoinette sipped her tea.