Lady X

He took her arm, a short walk brought them to the double doors of Horwich House where X turned to his lordship, her gloved hand extended. Purposely, she averted her eyes. She just didn’t want to look into those blues just before she went inside. She didn’t want to contemplate at that moment.

Thus, she stood, staring at his mid-section, which proved to be a mistake as her imagination began stripping away his clothes.

Vividly, she saw his naked torso, so hard touchable, and so enticing. Stop, she told herself, what are you doing you stupid girl?

She felt his blues surveying her and was sure of it when he chuckled and said, “Aye?”

She managed to squeak out, “Thank you, my lord. It was very gallant of you to see me home.”

“And it is very remiss of you not to ask me in for a moment’s rest before my journey back to the Towers,” he answered glibly.

Her eyes flew to his face and though she hadn’t blushed in a very long time, she was sure from the heat in her cheeks that she was doing just that right then and there. She didn’t think women actually invited men inside in this era, and wasn’t sure if cared. She smiled and said, “Oh, I do beg your pardon. I assumed you wanted to be on your way so as not get caught in a downpour.”

He walked in, his eyes never straying from her face, she stumbled as she stepped backwards. He reached out to steady her by her shoulders and she felt a bolt of energy shoot from him to her, and ran through her body. It was sexual yes, but so much more. It felt like magical threads weaving through her muscles. She was being absurd. Magical thread? She felt like an impressionable teenager.

She licked her lips and tried to regain her composure, “Would, er…would you like some refreshment? A drink, before you head back?”

“I would, lass,” he said softly.

She turned abruptly about and walked toward the parlor through its open double doors. Without glancing back at him she went to the sideboard, she could feel him; she sensed every step he took as he followed her. She felt him at her back, his body so close, and wondered if he would touch her. She couldn’t deny she wanted him to touch her. She was in for a ride, if she didn’t get this under control.

“Where would the good Mrs. Horwich and the squire be?” he asked softly.

She couldn’t think with him so close. She made the mistake of turning her head to look at him with her answer; which caused her to gulp back saliva before she could answer, “I am not sure.” She turned away from him and removed her gloves, and poured a bit of brandy into the snifter and handed it to him without looking back at his face. “Brandy?”

He took it from her and took a sip. He put it down then followed her across the room watching her as she took

off her top hat and unbuttoned her riding jacket.

The fire beckoned and she put out her hands to it. “Hmm, this is the best thing about coming in after a ride…a nice fire.”

“Exerilla,” he said as he moved to take her hands and put them to his lips.

She saw a strange glimmer flit through his blue eyes. She would have called the look in his eyes, uncertainty, but she couldn’t believe this man was ever uncertain about anything. He always seemed to be in control.

He pulled her in against his body and she gasped, “What are you doing?”

“Taking m’leave of ye lass…properly,” he said huskily, as he bent his head.

She wanted him to kiss her. She had been wanting it the entire ride home. She damn well wanted him to kiss her and that was all there was to it. She could deny it to the world, but not to herself. So what if she and he weren’t meant to last. So what if she was an immortal witch about to return to the future in a few months. She felt something with this man she had never felt before and every inch of her wanted to explore that feeling!

His lips touched hers and wild bursting rockets exploded somewhere overhead. She couldn’t think any longer. Their connection was too hot to contemplate. This was what melting in a man’s arms actually meant. She was melting beneath the heat of their bodies touching.

White flames surged through her veins, it wasn’t just lust. It was bursting stardust, the kind her mother had told her only happens once in a lifetime to a White Witch.

That wasn’t possible. He was a human. It wasn’t supposed to happen between a human and a witch. This couldn’t be. This was lust, she told herself, simple, lust. She had never felt this before. Her pulse throbbed, her heart beat so hard that she thought he would see it through her chest. Her body trembled and her mind screamed go for it, take him now and let him take you.

His tongue teased the tip of hers, licked and joined in a dance with hers. He tantalized her into wantonness and she held onto him for dear life.

His hand found its way to her breast; his touch was bold through the thin material of her blouse. His fingers manipulated her nipples with a skill that left her breathless and wanting more.

He released her and Exerilla reeled with the suddenness of the freedom. He put a finger to his lips to warn her. Someone was coming. Somehow he had heard someone coming. She had heard nothing; she had sensed nothing, only him, his touch, and his kiss.

A moment later, he stood by the sideboard sipping his brandy and she sat with Mrs. Horwich’s knitting basket in her lap. She didn’t know why, because she hadn’t a clue how to knit.

David and the squire walked in, David looked at his lordship with an expression of irritation. The squire, however, walked forward with his hand outstretched and a smile across his face. “You must be MacTorry. They told us at the stable that you were here.” He turned toward David and with a cocked brow said, “My son, David.”

As they exchanged polite, if wary greetings under Exerilla’s watchful gaze, the squire exclaimed, “I see you found the brandy, my lord?”