The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

"Since I am to call you Sophia, why don't you call me Ryder?"

"Very well. Where would you like to go, Ryder?"

"To the beach, to that very cozy little cottage I've heard so much about."

She didn't miss a beat, but he would swear that he saw her eyes widen, just a bit, in shock. But she said very coolly, "I think not." She gave him a seductive smile and a toss of her head. Her riding habit was of pale blue, her hat was a darker blue with a charming feather that curved around her face. It was very effective, that feminine head toss. "Besides, I do believe the cottage is perhaps still occupied. My uncle lends it out, you know. Yes, one never knows just who might be there."

"Oh? Your uncle, you say?"

Sophie kicked her mare, Opal, into a canter and off they went down the long, wide drive of Camille Hall.

She was brazen. There wasn't an ounce of shame in her.

He followed her, content to let her take the lead. They rode onto the road, following it only for a half mile or so, then she turned off it toward the sea. When they broke through the thin stand of mango trees, Ryder sucked in his breath. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

There was a stretch of beach that went on and on, disappearing around a bend a goodly distance to the east. The sand was stark white, pure and clean. The water was a light turquoise. The mango trees gave way to coconut trees that lined the perimeter of the white sand. The tide was going out and the different hues of the sand and water were startling in their beauty.

"It's incredible," he said before he thought to cen­sor and give her only what he wanted her to hear. "I have never seen anything quite like it."

"I know. It is my favorite stretch. I swim here a lot."

He got control of himself and raised a brow at her. "Would you like to swim now?"

"I normally swim in a sarong. I don't have one with me."

"No matter. I really would like to see you. I already know that your breasts are quite adequate. Not all that large, but fine, really. No man I know of would complain about their size or their weight or their softness. But there is the rest of you—your hips, your belly, your legs, and your woman's endowments. I think a man should be able to see what he'll be getting himself into before he takes the plunge, so to speak."

She turned her head away, but for only a moment. "Oh? And do you believe a woman should have the same consideration, sir?"

"You may call me Ryder since it's likely we're going to become quite close. Why, certainly women should be given every consideration. Would you like to see me naked, Sophia? Now?"

He thought he'd gotten her, but not a moment lat­er he knew he was wrong. She gave him the hottest smile he'd seen in his adult life. She ran her tongue over her lower lip and leaned her upper body toward him. "Why, I think that would be nice, Ryder. Per­haps you could pose for me. I could sit over there beneath a coconut tree and tell you which way to turn so I could gain every perspective I wished of you. A man's buttocks, flexed, you know, are some­times quite delightful."

Good God, he thought, picturing exactly what her words had conjured up in his mind.

He flushed. He actually turned red to the roots of his hair.

Sophie saw that flush and her satisfaction wasn't at all subtle. She shook her finger at him. "Really, Mr. Sherbrooke, it's never wise to bait your hook when you don't know what you'll catch." It was difficult, but she'd managed it. She'd won for the moment. She'd been so outrageous she'd made him blush. She knew she must be the first woman to have accomplished such a feat, for he was polished, this Englishman with his clear blue eyes, polished and cynical and very sure of himself. But she'd known exactly what she was saying, for the first time she'd taken Lord David Lochridge to the cottage, he'd already been three-quarters drunk. He'd stripped off his clothes, eager to show her that his body was f

irm and muscled, much nicer than that old man, Oliver Susson's, and how once she saw him, she'd dismiss all the other men. He'd posed for her, even turning his back to her and flexing his buttocks, and thus it was he she was seeing when she'd said those words to Ryder Sherbrooke.

Ryder was furious with himself. He was so furious with himself that he wanted to howl. He wanted to dismount and kick himself. But he didn't. He wouldn't allow her the upper hand. Ha, she had it. He had to get it back. It was intolerable that a woman, a damned tart, could do him in.

"I enjoy taking chances, Sophia," he said finally, creditably in charge of himself and his voice again. "I haven't yet caught a shark or a piranha. Per­haps I've hooked an angelfish and the good Lord knows they're quite enjoyable to eat." He gave her an intimate smile, but Miss Stanton-Greville merely looked at him, one eyebrow arched, and Ryder would swear she had no clue as to what he was talking about. No, impossible, she was just toying with him again, pretending to innocence this time.

She said on a laugh, "Perhaps I should show you a rooster-tail conch. They're quite lovely but some­what dangerous. They can cut you when you least expect it. Then there is the trumpet fish who is quite loud to other fishes and they avoid him. All in all a rather boorish fellow, one would say."

"I'm at a distinct disadvantage in this," Ryder said. "You could continue indefinitely whereas I have used up the sum of my marine life knowledge."

"Again, it isn't wise to bait your hook—"

"Yes, I know. I wouldn't want to hurt a tender mouth. However, some fish have tough little mouths and even tougher minds. As for their bodies, who can say? I wonder about their taste. Sour, do you think? Perhaps even deadly? Surely not sweet and juicy."

"Your similes are drifting rather far afield. Let's canter up the beach. There are some rather inter­esting caves in the low cliffs just beyond that bend ahead."

He followed her, appreciating the sea breeze that cooled him. He was angry with himself, not with her. She was what she was. The only problem was he wasn't certain exactly what that could be.

She dismounted, shaking her skirts, and led him up a narrow path that skirted jutting rocks and nar­row crevices. There were gnarled bushes along the way. Finally, both of them panting from the heat, she stopped and pointed. There was a narrow open­ing into the side of the hill in front of them. Ryder stepped into the black stillness then out again. "So there really are caves. Have you explored it?"