Free Valentine by Jane Feather

find her own pace.
    The black drew up alongside. Theo cast a sidelong glance at the earl. To her infuriated astonishment she saw that he was laughing. And then she saw the gleam in his eye, the purposeful set of his mouth, and with a desperate kick at her flanks, urged Dulcie to renewed effort.
    Sylvester caught his own reins between his teeth, leaned over, and lifted Theo bodily off the mare. Interestingly, it was much easier to do with someone riding astride than sidesaddle, he thought with a flicker of amusement, snatching the mare’s reins and hauling her to a halt as he adjusted the rigid figure of his captive on the saddle in front of him.
    “Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best,”
    he quoted, eyes alight with laughter at her stunned expression. “And don’t damn me again, cousin, or I’ll be obliged to take reprisals.”
    Shifting his hold, he drew her tight against his chest, the black coming to a panting halt beneath them as the riderless mare snorted and kicked up sand.
    Theo was still so astonished that for the moment she was dumbstruck. His fingers were on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the shape of her mouth.
    “You have such an appealing countenance, gypsy. But I can’t appreciate it when you’re forever hissing and spitting atme and wanting to throw me all over the beach.” Smiling, he cupped her chin and slowly lowered his head.
    She tried to resist, to fight off this insidiously sweet assault, but it was a lost cause. Her body was no longer under the sway of her mind. She lay against him, feeling his supporting hand flattened and warm, pressing her damp shirt to her back, his breath on her face, the honeyed mingling of tongues. Her blood flew through her veins, her pulse beating fast in her throat, and the sun was hot and red against her closed eyelids.
    His hand slid round her body, feeling for the swell of her breasts beneath the thin shirt. She was wearing nothing beneath the cambric, and her nipples pressed small and hard into his palm. His fingers slid between the buttons, tracing the satin curve, and she shuddered against him with a soft moan, one arm lifting to come round his neck, pulling him closer to her, her mouth opening hungrily beneath his, her tongue now urgently pursuing its own exploration.
    He raised his head, leaving her mouth slowly, reluctantly, and looked down into her face, lying against his chest. His hand was still against her right breast, and the sweat-dampened material of her shirt clung translucently to the other, outlining the swelling curve as clearly as if it were uncovered.
    Her eyes opened and passion swirled in the midnight depths … passion and confusion.
    “You really should wear a chemise,” he observed, still smiling. “You invite the most scandalous attentions, gypsy.” He cupped her breast beneath the shirt, flicking at the nipple with his forefinger in example.
    Theo drew a deep breath and struggled to sit up. His hold tightened while the caress continued, and she yielded with a tiny sigh of defeat.
    “Now, isn’t this pleasanter than threatening me with combat?” he murmured, his voice lightly teasing.
    “It was a challenge, not a threat,” Theo said, finally roused from her sensual trance by his tone and the frustrating reflectionthat the damnable Gilbraith had simply taken his so-called courtesies anyway.
    It had happened again, and she’d had no more strength to resist it than a baby. She thrust his hand aside and pushed herself up against his chest, blinking in the dazzling sunlight. She felt most peculiar. The black shifted restlessly at the sudden change of weight on his back, and she would have slipped to the ground if Sylvester hadn’t grabbed her waist.
    He chuckled but said seriously, “I might be willing to accept a friendly challenge, but I’ll not settle real problems in that way. Best you remember that, little cousin … particularly as