Rexanne Becnel - Scandalous Weddings

He caught her, of course. His steed was bigger and faster-and probably would not dare to disappoint his demanding rider. He caught her and hauled her right out of the saddle as if she were a sack of some useful victual or another-potatoes or radishes or leeks. Her struggles ceased at once, for she did not want to fall beneath his mount's heavy hooves. But though she clung to the arm wrapped so unrelentingly around her, her verbal protests did not abate.

"You wretched, wretched man!" she shrieked. "What do you think you're doing? Stop this very minute, you barbarian. You brute! Let me down." She batted futilely at him. "Stop and let me down!"

"Not until we reach the house," he muttered. He shifted her higher, so that she now sat across his lap.

"I'll not go riding up there carried in your arms like this for the entire world to see," she swore. "I won't. Do you want to start talk about us? Is that your aim?"

"This is my house. No one will talk."

His house? That put a rather different slant on things. Still, Jinx felt a jolt of alarm. Why was he bringing her to his house?

"To obtain a chaperone," he answered when she questioned him. "For both you and my sister."

"Oh." Though she hated to give him credit for anything, the idea of a chaperone was a very good one. So Jinx sat in silence, with no further struggles as they made their way up the drive. Lord Hartley's horse nickered and Daffodil responded, then turned and ambled along behind them. The park was pretty, with ancient hornbeam and mature oaks and an allée of lime trees. Then they made a turn past a small lake and she saw the house, a handsome three-story country house with chimneys and eyebrow windows aplenty, but no turrets or fanciful downspouts. Still, it was a singularly lovely place and beautifully sited.

They were met in the forecourt by two grooms, while a third ran to alert the housekeeper.

"Miss Benchley is hurt," Harrison blithely fibbed when the two men stared in astonishment at Jinx riding before him. He slid off his, horse, still holding her as if she were an invalid. "A twisted ankle from a fall," he said, embellishing his tale. "Ask Mrs. Downy to prepare the room off the terrace for her. And you," he muttered in Jinx's ear. "You'd best be still if you value your reputation so highly as you profess."

What a fuss! Unfortunately, he made a good point. So Jinx ordered herself to relax in his arms. It was all for the best, and he was trying to protect her reputation. Besides, their delay here would afford Colin and Alice more time to achieve their aim.

But it was exceedingly difficult to relax when Harrison Stirling had one muscular arm cradling her back and the other one curved under her knees.

He carried her up the stairs and down a hall, not waiting for the housekeeper to appear. It was a goodly distance, and Jinx was by no means petite. Yet he seemed unfazed by her weight. She, however, was hardly un-fazed. She should not have been. After all, his ability- or inability-to lift her weight was hardly pertinent to the situation. Yet the fact remained: she could feel the muscles in his arms bunch and shift; she could feel the heavy thud of his heart. And with her every breath she caught his scent, a confusion of horses and sweat, and soap and rain. It made her slightly dizzy.

He made her dizzy.

By the time he kicked open a door and deposited her on a settee draped in furniture cloths, her anger at him had turned into aggravation at herself. When had she become so muddleheaded?

She looked up at him as he pulled away from her. He was in the act of straightening up, but when their gazes met, he froze. He cleared his throat. "Just pretend your ankle is injured, Jinx."

She nodded.

"It's only to protect the reputation you value so." * Again she nodded. Lizard legs, but his eyes were beautiful. Dark as night, yet with a sparkling depth to them.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, his voice lower. Huskier.

But she couldn't not look at him like that. He infuriated her and yet he also managed to rouse emotions in her that no other man had ever touched upon. For whatever reason, he fanned to roaring life some small, primitive flame that until now had lain happily dormant.

It was dormant no more.

Their eyes held and he groaned, and she knew he meant to kiss her. Then a knock sounded, he jerked away, and the housekeeper scurried into the room.

" 'Tis sorry I am, sir, to keep you waiting." She curtsied while her curious gaze flitted back and forth between her master and his guest.

Jinx didn't know whether to laugh or cry, the situation was that ludicrous. If only the woman had not come in at just that moment. Jinx needed to find out what was happening between Harrison and her. At the same time, though, she wanted nothing more than to flee and never be tempted by him again. It seemed ridiculously ironic that she could do neither.

So she sat there as he introduced Mrs. Downy. Then he backed away while the housekeeper bustled about, directing two maids to pull back the drapes, open the windows, and remove the furniture cloths.

"I have not been to Grassymere in a while." Harrison spoke into the awkward silence.

When had she begun to think of him as Harrison? "It must be pleasant to have so many estates," she murmured.

He frowned, then signaled to the housekeeper. "You may go. We shall want supper in the dining room. Something simple will suffice." When the woman and her maids left, he faced Jinx from his place across the room from her. "Having so many estates is more duty than pleasure," he said in a tone that sounded awfully defensive.

"I wasn't being critical. I was just… just trying to make polite conversation. You shouldn't be in here alone with me," she added.

He stood stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring her last comment. "You weren't implying that my sister need not marry for wealth?"

She stood up, suddenly weary of this debate they waged. "My brother has an estate of his own, as you well know. And while it may not be so grand as this- or as any of your other estates-it is comfortable enough for our needs, despite its peeling paint and ancient carriages. It provides an adequate enough living for a man to bring a wife home," she added, crossing her arms, daring him to disparage Benchley House.

His gaze narrowed. "Two days ago you seemed as determined as I to prevent a marriage between my sister and your brother. Yet now I detect another mood. First you want to abandon the chase. Now you tout your brother's ability to provide for Alice. You aren't reconsidering your position regarding a union between them, are you? Are you?" he repeated.

When she did not respond, but only pursed her lips and looked away, he groaned. "If nothing else, consider this, Jinx. Their union would make us in-laws. Is that what you want?"

"No." She looked back at him. "No." She did not want to be related to him in that way. But the thought occurred to her that unless the marriage went through, she was very likely never to see Harrison again. The shocking truth was, she didn't want that, either.

So what did she want?

He must have sensed her confusion, for he crossed the room until they were less than an arm's length apart. She should have stepped back, but she could not. Then he breached the failing space between them and grasped her by the arms.

"What do you want, Jinx?"

She stared up at him and tried to be honest. "I want none of this ever to have happened."

He grinned, a half-smile that was, temporarily at least, free of all the strain between them. "Do you really?"

"Don't you?"

Slowly he shook his head, and just as slowly, his grin faded. "No, I don't think I do."

He should know better. He did know better. But that did not alter Harrison 's behavior one whit.

As he pulled Jinx nearer, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he would stop if she protested. But she didn't protest, as he'd known she would not. If she were waiting for him to stop this mad, spiraling desire between them, her trust was sorely misplaced.

So he pulled her nearer, until their breath mingled. Until her thighs brushed his, and the press of her breasts burned his chest. Her eyes, so vividly blue, remained locked with his, as innocent and sultry as a schoolgirl courtesan's. Worldly he might be, but he flung himself headlong into the dangerously deep emotional waters of those eyes. He lowered his head and captured her mouth, and vowed then and there not to give her time to change her mind.

She tasted like no other woman, he dimly realized as he pressed her boldly to him. Nor did she respond like other women, for there was no coyness in her, not an iota. She was who she was, sweet and feisty, strong and innocent. He kissed her, devouring her mouth, invading her with his tongue, and drawing her tongue into his mouth for the heated dance of lovemaking. He would have this woman now.

But what of later?

He hesitated and raised his head. She began to kiss his chin, his neck, and his Adam's apple, however, and the last shreds of logic fled his brain. With one swift motion he lifted her into his arms, while she held his face with her hands and kissed him without ceasing. He lowered her to the bed and lowered himself over her, and still the kiss went on and on. Down the hall a clock began to chime. Up close he was enveloped in the unique scent that perfumed her. Sweet, earthy. Fresh as rain, wild as the forest. ⁽

"I will not let you go," he growled.

"You need not."

"You drive me mad with wanting you."

" 'Tis I who must be mad," she murmured, nibbling the words against his mouth, then nipping his lower lip for emphasis.

He covered her breast with one hand and swallowed her little gasp with a hungry kiss. After that there was little room for speech. His clothing and hers were stripped away, sometimes a frantic struggle, other times a torturous peeling away. He found the mysterious bells around her ankle and, in the process, kissed every bit of skin she revealed, every sweet, supple inch of her, from her pink toes, to her luscious mouth, from the anklet of bells that made her every movement musical, to the masses of fiery hair that drew him like a beacon.

Her little cries and artless moans urged him on. Creamy thighs, sweet belly. He traced a circle around her navel with his tongue, then slid farther up her lithe torso, anointing each rib. He lay between her legs, braced on his elbows. Before him her breasts were exposed to his gaze, lovely pale flesh crested with taut, rosy buds that attested to her arousal. Her breaths came short and shallow. Her eyes were glazed with passion.

She was his now. His.

His own breathing was ragged. "Unloose your hair," he said. "It's so beautiful. Unloose it for me, Jinx."

One of her hands cupped his face; the other rested on his bare shoulder. He saw her uncertainty, so he dipped his head and circled one nipple with his tongue. Then he kissed it, tugging it up into his mouth. She arched up with a cry of acquiescence.

When he raised his head again she began shakily to release her hair from its twists and coils. With her arms extended above her head that way, she looked like a wanton creature, a pagan offering to the gods of earthly delights. He actually hurt with his need to possess her. He captured her raised wrists with one hand, and with the other drew her flame-colored tresses down across her shoulders and chest and breasts. The ends curled near her waist, showing only tantalizing glimpses of her delicious skin between the tendrils.

If his violent desire frightened her, her fear was overcome with passion, for she groaned when once more he teased her nipples with his tongue and lips and teeth.

" Harrison." She breathed his name, and he nearly embarrassed himself, so profoundly did that single sound affect him.

"I cannot go slow," he muttered, half in warning, half in apology. "Then don't."

It was the last straw. He slid up her, letting her feel the strength he meant to release upon her, giving her one last chance to stop this insanity they'd plunged into. But she only gazed up at him, wide-eyed and accepting. Eager. So he drew her legs up and then, capturing her mouth with his, he pressed into her.

Her welcome was sweet and oh, so hot. He slid inside her and she began to writhe. He grew bolder, met with resistance, then thrust past it. She shuddered. He felt it in their kiss. But he worked to rouse her further, sliding his tongue in and out until she melted once more. Then he began the same rhythm with his hips.