eyes widening as she saw his intent.
“Are you thinking to kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.
“Are you thinking to let me?” Nick mimicked her soft drawl, not quite Irish he realized. No, her accent was softer, slower, almost musical.
“Will I be singing your praises afterward?” she asked and he heard amusement in her words.
Nick bent his head and captured her mouth, captured the laugh that came tumbling across her lips, captured the quiet moan that followed. Her lips were soft and full and made for kissing. There was no hesitation in her response, no shy withholding, only acceptance and enthusiasm. He brushed his tongue across the seam of her lips and she opened to him, invited him in, met his tongue with her own and danced and parried.
He angled his head, pressed firmly, drove his tongue into her eager mouth again and again. Hunger thrummed through his veins, pooled in his loins until he was hard and heavy, his cock straining against his trousers. He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had driven him so quickly to arousal.
Voices intruded into the fog that surrounded his brain, male voices growing nearer.
He broke the kiss, watched as her eyes opened, registered the dazed look in their emerald depths. A fragment of memory chased along the fringes of his mind before drifting away.
She blinked once, twice, gave him a bright smile, and scooted under his arm and away. She patted the black stallion on the rump as she walked around him.
“I haven’t time to rub you down and sing your praises,” she crooned as she left the stall, turning into the long aisle.
Nick chuckled, shook his head to clear the last remnants of desire from his brain, then exited the stables by the back door, careful not to be seen by the gentlemen who had entered. As he closed the stable door behind him, he heard the stable master’s daughter’s glad cry of, “Da!”
Chapter Seven
Emily launched herself into her father’s waiting arms and buried her flushed face against his massive chest.
“How’s my girl?” Charles Calvert asked as he clasped his daughter tight in his arms.
“Wonderful, Da,” she whispered, drawing back to meet his intent gaze. “Truly, Da, I am well.”
“Gentlemen, this beautiful lass is my daughter, Emily,” Charles said as he turned to the two men who accompanied him. He kept his arm firm around her waist as he introduced her to Mr. Boone and Lord Carmichael.
Mr. Boone was an older man with a gleaming bald head and an outrageously extravagant white mustache. He was big and round, nearly as tall as her father, with cheerful blue eyes. Lord Carmichael was younger, perhaps thirty-five, tall and lean with wide shoulders. His hair was a deep auburn, a shade or two darker than her own. He looked down at her with warm brown eyes.
“We’ve come to check on Danny Boy,” Charles said as he motioned the two men to proceed down the aisle. “How’d he fare on the journey?”
“Just fine. He’s a grand boy, Da. Everything you said in your letter. He’ll make a wonderful addition to Emerald Isle’s stables,” Emily assured him as she looped her arm through his and followed Mr. Boone and Lord Carmichael into the horse’s stall, careful not to allow her eyes to wander toward the wall in the corner where Nicholas Avery had kissed her.
“Your father has been extolling your skill with a horse,” Lord Carmichael remarked as he eyed the restless stallion. “But surely you haven’t been riding him?”
“There’s not a horse alive my Em can’t ride,” Charles said proudly.
“That’s quite a get up you’ve got on there, Miss Calvert,” Mr. Boone remarked with a smile. “Took you for a stable boy when I first saw you.”
Emily looked down at her white linen shirt and brown breaches and shot a chagrined look at her father, but Charles only smiled fondly at her.
“She can’t rightly tend to the beasty here in skirts and petticoats,” he declared.
Emily laughed softly at the
“Are you thinking to kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.
“Are you thinking to let me?” Nick mimicked her soft drawl, not quite Irish he realized. No, her accent was softer, slower, almost musical.
“Will I be singing your praises afterward?” she asked and he heard amusement in her words.
Nick bent his head and captured her mouth, captured the laugh that came tumbling across her lips, captured the quiet moan that followed. Her lips were soft and full and made for kissing. There was no hesitation in her response, no shy withholding, only acceptance and enthusiasm. He brushed his tongue across the seam of her lips and she opened to him, invited him in, met his tongue with her own and danced and parried.
He angled his head, pressed firmly, drove his tongue into her eager mouth again and again. Hunger thrummed through his veins, pooled in his loins until he was hard and heavy, his cock straining against his trousers. He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had driven him so quickly to arousal.
Voices intruded into the fog that surrounded his brain, male voices growing nearer.
He broke the kiss, watched as her eyes opened, registered the dazed look in their emerald depths. A fragment of memory chased along the fringes of his mind before drifting away.
She blinked once, twice, gave him a bright smile, and scooted under his arm and away. She patted the black stallion on the rump as she walked around him.
“I haven’t time to rub you down and sing your praises,” she crooned as she left the stall, turning into the long aisle.
Nick chuckled, shook his head to clear the last remnants of desire from his brain, then exited the stables by the back door, careful not to be seen by the gentlemen who had entered. As he closed the stable door behind him, he heard the stable master’s daughter’s glad cry of, “Da!”
Chapter Seven
Emily launched herself into her father’s waiting arms and buried her flushed face against his massive chest.
“How’s my girl?” Charles Calvert asked as he clasped his daughter tight in his arms.
“Wonderful, Da,” she whispered, drawing back to meet his intent gaze. “Truly, Da, I am well.”
“Gentlemen, this beautiful lass is my daughter, Emily,” Charles said as he turned to the two men who accompanied him. He kept his arm firm around her waist as he introduced her to Mr. Boone and Lord Carmichael.
Mr. Boone was an older man with a gleaming bald head and an outrageously extravagant white mustache. He was big and round, nearly as tall as her father, with cheerful blue eyes. Lord Carmichael was younger, perhaps thirty-five, tall and lean with wide shoulders. His hair was a deep auburn, a shade or two darker than her own. He looked down at her with warm brown eyes.
“We’ve come to check on Danny Boy,” Charles said as he motioned the two men to proceed down the aisle. “How’d he fare on the journey?”
“Just fine. He’s a grand boy, Da. Everything you said in your letter. He’ll make a wonderful addition to Emerald Isle’s stables,” Emily assured him as she looped her arm through his and followed Mr. Boone and Lord Carmichael into the horse’s stall, careful not to allow her eyes to wander toward the wall in the corner where Nicholas Avery had kissed her.
“Your father has been extolling your skill with a horse,” Lord Carmichael remarked as he eyed the restless stallion. “But surely you haven’t been riding him?”
“There’s not a horse alive my Em can’t ride,” Charles said proudly.
“That’s quite a get up you’ve got on there, Miss Calvert,” Mr. Boone remarked with a smile. “Took you for a stable boy when I first saw you.”
Emily looked down at her white linen shirt and brown breaches and shot a chagrined look at her father, but Charles only smiled fondly at her.
“She can’t rightly tend to the beasty here in skirts and petticoats,” he declared.
Emily laughed softly at the
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