Free The Taste of Innocence by Stephanie Laurens Page A

light fading. It was not yet dusk; at this pace, they would reach the manor before the light became uncertain, but Charlie had to ride another two miles more to reach the Park.
    They swept on side by side. The dull thudding of hooves echoed the thudding in her blood, an insistent, steadily escalating tattoo. It rang in her ears, in her fingertips, while the wind of their passage whipped her cheeks and set them, and her, glowing.
    She’d ridden this way countless times, and some of those times she’d galloped even faster. It wasn’t simply the speed that was feeding the undeniable exhilaration within her.
    Stride matching stride, they swung down off the path onto another leading to the back of the manor. They clattered into the stable yard, iron-shod hooves ringing on the cobbles, a peculiar delight bubbling in her veins.
    Her senses were singing. She couldn’t stop grinning.
    Charlie swung down, came and lifted her down; for an instant he held her close, protected by his body as the horses milled about them. Then the stable lads were there, grasping reins.
    “Just walk him,” Charlie called to the lad gathering his gray’s reins. “I’ll be off again shortly.”
    His gaze hadn’t shifted from her face. Releasing her, he took her hand. “I’ll walk you to the house.”
    She nodded, unable to decide what the light in his eyes meant, what the tension she could feel through his grip on her hand portended.
    The horses were led away. Charlie strode for the stable entrance, drawing her with him. Under the arch he paused, looking across the stretch of lawn shaded by large trees that separated the house from the stables.
    Puzzled, she looked, too, wondering.
    Beneath his breath he muttered an oath, and abruptly towed her in a different direction, along the front of the stables and around the corner. He ducked under the low-hanging branches of a fir—then he halted, turned, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.
    Ravenously.
    The triumphant delight bubbling in her veins sizzled, fizzed and rose, rose to wreathe through her brain and pleasurably sweep her wits away. Leaving a sense of certainty in its wake.
    His lips were hard, commanding. She met them, met his demands, thrilled that she could.
    More, that he could want her like this—with just a touch of wildness in the wanting. That he could desire her as he so patently did…
    She hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t dreamt of desire, of him desiring her, but she couldn’t think now, could only appease the hunger in him, and let him seed her own.
    Her lips had parted of their own volition; he’d taken advantage on the instant and claimed her mouth. Claimed her in some way; she felt the possessiveness in his touch as he backed her, as she sensed the brick wall of the stable behind her and his hand rose to cradle her face, to hold it steady at just the right angle so he could deepen the kiss.
    The steely arm about her waist tightened. Her toes curled.
    She gripped his shoulders, clung, intrigued, and kissed him back, unrestrainedly following his lead.
    Two heartbeats later, things changed. The tenor of the kiss altered, gentled, as if he were reining himself—them—in, as if what had already passed between them had taken the edge from his—their—hunger, and now that desperate edge was gone, he—they—could savor.
    Could appreciate, could sink deeper into the kiss and wallow.
    He didn’t let her go; his hold didn’t ease in the slightest. He continued to kiss her, to indulge her and himself with long, languid caresses.
    Simply because he wanted to.
    That last was clear, a truth undeniably etched in her mind when he finally raised his head, and on a sigh released hers. He brushed a thumb across her lower lip, then let her go and stepped back, retaking her hand.
    He didn’t smile. “Come. I’ll walk you to the door.”
    She managed a wobbly smile in acquiescence, and let him lead her back into the world. Ducking under the fir tree’s branches, she went with