The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

Her mother had been as strong-willed as a bull, beautiful of face and bountiful of figure, Corinna by name, a woman who loved her children very much, too much to take them on the journey to America, a journey she considered too fraught with danger. Her father had said "nonsense," but he didn't have her mother's strength of character and thus Sophie and Jeremy were fetched from Fowey, Cornwall, by their uncle Theo after the drowning of their parents, and brought to Jamaica. She remembered clearly her grief as well as her gratitude to her uncle. She had loved him, then.

She prayed her parents' deaths had been quick. Even now after four years she still repeated that prayer. Somehow she just knew that her mother had eased her father at the very end. It was the way her mother had been. She closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze from the sea on her face. She slipped out of her riding jacket and unfastened the top buttons of her linen blouse. She removed her riding hat, lay­ing it gently atop her jacket, smoothing its curling feather as she did so.

Within minutes she was asleep.

When Ryder saw her mare, he smiled. So, she had come here after all. Perhaps that cave was really something. Then he saw her, leaning against that coconut tree, sound asleep.

Despite the heavy humid air, here on the beach, out of the sun, it was cool enough. He dismounted a good distance away from her, tethering his stallion close enough to some sea grass so he could graze.

He stood over her, staring down at her face, still now, and he realized that she looked very young despite the cosmetics that still coated her face. Very young indeed. Why, he wondered, why had she tak­en all those men to her bed?

Now she wanted him.

He dropped silently to his knees beside her. Very gently, very slowly, he began to unfasten the remain­ing buttons on her blouse. She wore a very plain batiste chemise beneath. No fancy frills or lace. He frowned and finished with the buttons.

But he couldn't peel the blouse off her because it was tucked into her riding skirt. He wanted her to remain asleep a bit longer.

He pulled the blouse back as far as he could then took a knife from his pocket and slit the chemise down the front to just below her breasts. Ah, he thought, as he eased the light material back, her breasts.

They were beautiful breasts. She stirred, but didn't awaken.

He waited a few minutes, then slowly eased her down until she was lying flat on her back. He waited longer, hoping she would remain asleep. She turned on her side, moaned just a bit, then fell back again. Smiling, Ryder then began to work up her riding habit, slowly, ever so slowly, until it was bunched at mid-thigh, and he could see the plain garters that held her stockings in place. Very nice legs, he thought, long and sleekly muscled.

He was still looking at her legs when he eased down beside her and waited for her to awaken.

He wasn't quite certain how he expected her to react when she did wake up. He supposed she'd look up at him, be a bit aroused already, and hold out her arms to him. He waited, picturing his hand easing up her inner thigh to touch her intimately, and she'd be eager, and she'd beg him to take her here, now. He looked at her mouth.

She awoke in the next instant, and out of that love­ly mouth came an actual scream, loud and embar­rassed and utterly horrified. The scream dwindled into a squeak then a gasp.

He sat up next to her. She was staring stupidly from him to her naked breasts down to her legs.

"Damn you, what did you do to me!"

"I kissed your breasts and you moaned and arched your back. You thrust your breasts into my face so I was forced to slit your chemise open to help you get what you wanted. But you're a greedy woman. You wanted more, so you came down upon your back and lifted your hips and I helped you by pulling up your skirt."

"No, no, damn you, that's a lie!"

Her face was red and she was actually sputtering. Ryder frowned. This was unexpected. Where were her teasing smiles, her outrageous, coy, very sex­ual remarks? He watched as she regained control, watched the blankness disappear from her eyes, watched the control and that damned cool smile set itself into place.

What Sophie was thinking was, Did he see the bruises on my ribs? Dear God, please no.

She got herself in control. Slowly, giving him a very tempting sideways smile, she pulled the sides of her chemise over her breasts and began to work the buttons closed again, all the while keeping her legs exposed to him.

When she'd finished, she slowly rose and stared down at him. She smoothed her skirt, then put her hands on her hips.

"You damned bastard," she said, surprised at the mildness of her voice. "Damn you, you came."

"Yes, I decided my manhood co

uldn't tolerate your obvious scorn."

"Most manhoods couldn't. You are no different."

"No, probably not."

"You had no right to do what you did to me."

"I wanted to take you off guard. I find you exces­sively unpredictable whenever I manage to do it. You shrieked, just like a maiden aunt. Most delight­ful. It sweetens the pot, one could say, all these varied and unexpected sides of you. I wonder how many other sides you will show me if I'm quick enough to catch you showing them."