Lady Bess

His soft, sensual voice slipped inside her, and when he said, ‘new blood’ she wanted to purse her lips and invite him to kiss her. The smile in his blue eyes made her want to press herself against him and feel those arms of his slip around her body.

She wasn’t completely inexperienced, after all. She had a Season and had allowed a few bucks a kiss or two. How else was a girl to know who she wanted, she had told herself while she experimented.

In her early years, away at school with Donna and all their friends, they had met ‘town boys’; all the girls had dared a kiss or two in the dark with them. It had been clandestine, it had been wildly naughty, but it had been a part of growing up. That had been wayward behavior, indeed, but she wasn’t sorry for it. Her philosophy was simple. Men could kiss and move on—why not women? How else would a woman know what it was all about?

She had overheard servants talking about men and how they wanted a lady on their arm and a tart in their bed. Well, she wanted to be both for the man of her choosing. The notion tickled her.

She was now at twenty quite ready for more than stolen kisses. She was at that dangerous ‘yearning for more’ stage.

She was more than curious, and her body demanded what only lovemaking could do for her—make her feel complete, take the girl and turn her into a woman. Here was just the man to take her to that stage, but he didn’t appear to be interested in getting serious, and she needed it all: the flirting, the fun, the love-making, and the marriage! She sighed because she knew she was really out of her league with the Earl of Dunkirk.

What the devil was wrong with her? This man was a rogue, a charming rogue, and she knew, absolutely knew, he was only conducting a mild dalliance. Surely he flirted with her to pass the time and could not be in earnest. She had no doubt that flirting, for him at least, was probably no more than a hobby he had perfected. However, it didn’t matter. She was enjoying it all too much to care what his motives were.

“Our mare is a maiden,” she said and felt the blush fill her cheeks in spite of the fact that she had put quite a bit of effort into sounding casual and sophisticated about it.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Bold Tim is quite the gentleman, skilled, experienced, and he will know just how to approach her, and unlike other stallions, he won’t hurt her when he is done,” he said on a low, seductive note.

His tone, his Scottish burr, lush with something else, something she didn’t want to name, swept her into a dream. Dangerous, he was so dangerous to her well being. He talked about Bold Tim as though he were suggesting he was as gentle as his stallion. Was he talking about how he would handle her? And, yes, she wanted him to handle her.

Oh, oh, but she was thinking like a tart—a tart! It was so much more than just being naughty and outrageous. It was delicious fun.

“I am certain Bold Tim … with all his experience,” she said in a low voice, “will know just what to do.” Her eyes met his with a look intended to display that she knew just what they were talking about.

She saw the surprise in his blues, and a gurgle of laughter escaped her. She had succeeded in oversetting him. He had not expected she would know how to respond to his outrageous dalliance. She smiled to herself—schoolgirl, indeed!

She meant to have a little fun with him, for she could see he meant only to have a little harmless fun with her and then send her on her way. She wanted at that moment to show him that having a little fun could get him into a great deal of trouble.

“Are ye, like I, certain his experience will be enough?” he murmured, obviously caught up in the moment. “We shall see … m’dear.”

~ Four ~

LADY BESS LEANED against the railing of the paddock that housed the brood mares and watched them graze lazily in the warmth of the sun’s bright rays.

She was daydreaming.

It had been two days since she had seen the earl and had been engaged in a banter that had set her body on fire. For two days, he had occupied nearly every thought.

She felt restless and dissatisfied with the things that she normally enjoyed doing. She had no appetite, no wish to ride, or walk, or go and meet her friends for tea.

The sound of horse’s hooves clopping along and kicking stones brought her head around, and she saw Donna waving to her. She sighed and waited, for she didn’t really want company. Her interest was caught, however, as Donna was dressed in high fashion, though in an odd shade of purple that did not suit her coloring. She laughed and said, “My, look at you! Dressed to the nines!”

“Yes, I am a diamond, am I not?” Donna laughed as she slid off her horse and took up the reins.

“Indeed, you funny thing, Now tell me why?” Bess asked, intrigued.

“Guess,” said her friend.

“You are a tiresome ninny,” returned Bess on a laugh. “How should I do that when I haven’t the slightest notion what you have been up to?”

“Go on, give it some thought,” Donna teased.

“Odious girl, tell me,” demanded Bess with a wag of the finger.

Donna laughed. “I have been to Searington Grange,” Donna said triumphantly.

“Wretch! Never say so,” returned Bess, not knowing just how she felt about this. Here was Donna, who had warned her off the Earl of Dunkirk, telling her that she had been to Searington?

“Not alone, silly thing. Robby took me along with him to see Dunkirk and get the tour of the place and a look at his horses. Besides his stallion, Bold Tim, he has quite a number of mares, all of them magnificent, though none like your father’s black.” Donna eyed her speculatively. “Dunkirk said something about expecting your father to visit him today as well.”