The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

He released her for a moment, then stepped back and began to pull her gown from her shoulders.

She laughed softly, so very sweetly, and slapped his hands away. "No, Ryder, you'll rip the material and it was expensive. I had it made just for you. I am sorry that you dislike the color. I will have another made in the shade of green you deem proper for me. Now, let me remove it. Let me become naked just for you. Yes, sit down here and watch me. Tell me what you want me to do. Here's another rum punch to cool you whilst you watch me."

Ryder took one sip of the rum punch. He leaned his head back against the chair cushion. His eyes were slitted as he watched her, standing in front of him, her hands on the buttons at the front of the harlot-red gown.

It was the last thing he remembered.

"He's unconscious."

"Excellent," Uncle Theo said, stepping into the cot­tage. He walked to Ryder and examined him closely. "Yes, this is excellent. No, Sophia, don't leave. I would like you to see him. It is quite possible that being the sort of man he is, he will question you, and you must be prepared. If there is a mole or a birthmark on his thigh, why then, you must be able to remark upon it."

She stood back as her uncle dragged Ryder Sherbrooke to the wide satin-sheeted bed. He un­dressed Ryder swiftly, for he'd had a lot of practice. When Ryder was sprawled on his back, quite naked, Theo laughed. "My God, he's still aroused. Look at him, Sophia. Didn't I tell you he was an excellent specimen?"

She didn't want to, but she did look. She sup­posed he was beautiful, for he was lean and nicely muscled, light brown hair covering his chest and thinning out to his belly, but she found him ter­rifying, particularly his sex, which was thick and hard. Uncle Theo turned him over on his stomach. His flesh was smooth, his back long, the muscles deep and firm. There were no moles or birthmarks.

Uncle Theo turned him again onto his back. "Ah, he is ready because in his mind it's you he will bed." Theo turned and called out, "Dahlia! Come in now, girl."

A very beautiful young girl, no more than six­teen, with light brown skin and brown eyes, stepped into the cottage. She sauntered over to the bed and stared down at the naked young man. She stared a good long time.

"He be a treat," she said and gave Theo Burgess a big smile even as she lightly touched Ryder's belly.

"Excellent. I won't have to pay you then."

"He not that much a treat," she said. She slipped out of her dress. She was naked beneath, her breasts pendulous and very large, her hips round and supple. Sophie turned away only to have Uncle Theo grab her arm. "I think you should watch, Sophia. Again, he might ask questions, make comments and—"

"I won't!" she yelled in his face, jerked free of him, and ran from the cottage.

She heard Dahlia laughing softly, heard her say in an utterly happy voice, "Ah, look at how much bigger he get and all I do is touch him with my fingers! Ah, yes, massa, this nice boy be a treat."

Sophie fell to her knees. She felt nausea roil in her belly but she wasn't sick. She was beyond being ill. At first she would have been, but not now. No, too much time had passed. She'd seen too much. She hugged her arms around herself and rocked back and forth.

She heard Dahlia crying out in the cottage, heard her laughing and groaning and encouraging Ryder to come deeper into her, to caress her breasts. She wondered if Uncle Theo were standing there, watch­ing. She knew he'd done it before. She wondered if he'd taken Dahlia to bed himself. She heard Ryder then. Heard him moan, heard him yell. Oh God, it was too much.

She crept away.

CHAPTER

5

RYDER WOKE SLOWLY. His first reaction was one of incredulity, for he felt both slightly drunk and sated. He also felt utterly relaxed, but strangely vague. But it was morning, he knew that, and he was drunk? He'd never been drunk in his life upon waking. It made no sense. Nothing made any sense at the moment.

He sat up in the strange bed, and held his head in his hands, trying to understand. He realized then that he was naked, and remembered where he was and what he had done here in this bed for most of the previous night. Actually, he should be complete­ly exhausted but he wasn't.

He'd been in this bed with Sophia Stanton-Greville.

God, she'd been incredible, her skills beyond the ability of any woman he'd ever bedded before. He rose slowly, shaking his head to clear it. The front door opened and an old female slave came in, giving him a wide toothless grin, saying in just short of a cackle, "Good morning, massa. Aye, 'tis fine you be this mornin'." He started to cover himself, but the old woman merely shook her head. She couldn't have cared less if he was wearing a gentleman's morning wear or was as naked as the Sherbrooke Greek statues he and his brothers had gawked at when they'd been boys.

She offered him a bath and breakfast.

True to form, Sophia had left him alone.

He was just one of many. She hadn't cared enough to stay with him. Oddly it hurt and made him angry, in equal parts. He was just another man and she'd not cared.

He eased himself down into the bath. He tried to remember the previous night in detail, but most of the specifics eluded him, which was surely very strange. He remembered kissing her at first, then he could almost feel again her mouth caressing him expertly and he shuddered with the memory. He remembered her riding him hard and fast, his hands kneading her large breasts, caressing them, lifting them, and he'd screamed like a wild man when his climax had hit him.

She'd screamed as well. And she'd spoken to him, urged him on, telling him what she liked, telling him what a man he was. He remembered it quite clearly, her voice soft and deep. He remembered her breasts in his hands and how they'd thrust forward when she'd arched her back over him.

Ryder didn't remember pleasuring her though, and that was odd for he hadn't lied to her. He was an excel­lent lover. He never left a woman unsatisfied. But he hadn't taken her in his mouth as she had him. He couldn't remember kissing her either, except at the very beginning of the evening, and surely that was even more odd, for Ryder loved kissing, sliding his tongue into a woman's mouth, stroking her, bringing her closer and closer as he used his hands on her body to heighten her pleasure.