Duke Herheart Final (14 page)

fabric past her hips, the fabric easily pooling at her feet. When he slipped his finger under the tiny tight piece of silk at the apex of her thighs, his mind whirled and he sunk to his knees to view his discovery.

“They’re… bikini panties…Michael. They’re my only pair. Do you…like …ahhhhhh…them?” He was circling with his thumb just on top of the see-through fabric, buckling her knees. He braced her with his other arm.

“I don’t know what bikini panties are…but I want to taste them like I want to taste… you. Don’t touch
me
though or I will explode, my darling.” He bent to her. “I think I like…the taste.”

And he showed her just how much.

Later, when she collapsed into his shoulders, sated and spent from fighting his ministrations, he slid himself up her body so that her slumped form was molded to him. She did not open her eyes. “Kathryn, darling, I can carry you if you need me to.” He said with a low rumble of satisfaction in his deep drawl.

“Not a…chance. I just…need to get my legs back and we’ll continue on.”

“Continue on the run? Are you sure?”

“Abso…lutely. I just need…” she continued to pant.

“You need a chair and a brandy, my dear,” he cajoled.

“No…now more than ever I need a run. In about five minutes, I’ll feel better than I have in days. You’ve had me so tied up in knots and now all that pressure has been released. I feel soooo good.”

“You’ve been knotted up?” he asked not sure he was supposed to be thrilled or concerned.

“I am sure you can imagine. That encounter after the poetry in your study. I was wound tight. Even thought about…”

“What, Kathryn?”

“Helping…myself.”

“You know you needn’t have resorted to that drastic measure. I would have gladly taken care of your needs.” His deep passionate drawl and scandalous repartee’ surprised him anew.

“You have now and I feel exceedingly good for it. I’m also about recovered enough to run again. Can we start at a slow jog?”

Quite satisfied that he had indeed released the tension that had been building in her for the last two days, Michael started off down the path, Kathryn falling into step a few seconds later. Just as she moved, a whizzing sound flew past her ear and Kathryn reacted with a start. At the same moment, a loud crack sounded in the distance.

Michael knew those two sounds and turned to throw his large body 80

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onto Kathryn’s. He caught her in the chest and landed squarely on her in the bridle path. He held her down with one arm and took the quick chance to look around for the shooter, for that had been the crack of a pistol. The shooter was not terribly far away.

With the lower half of his body on the ground, he felt the hoof beat vibrations and knew he would never catch their assailant. Since the villain was fleeing, he took the opportunity to rise to his full height and look in the direction the shot originated. His well-honed senses caught the flank view of a midnight black horse. The rider was cloaked and from this distance undistinguishable.

He turned to see Kathryn lying on the ground on her back, breathing shallowly. “What the heck was all that?” Her rasping voice had him back to her side instantly.

“A stray shot. I am sorry to have been so rough with you. I expect I knocked the wind out of you landing on you that way.”

“Yes, I’m …well…I think my shoulder…”

“Oh, my God, Kathryn, are you injured?” It had not occurred to him that his weight and the force of his shove might have hurt her or a rock or…

“Not…bad…just…” She winced, and he saw the very real pain in her eyes. “I think my shoulder is… a little out of joint.”

“Your shoulder? Let me see.” Michael was familiar with all type of war injuries but dislocated bones were rarer battlefield occurrences than bloody wounds on which he was expert. He had known someone once to be thrown from a horse and the remedy for the dislocation was to put the bone back into place.

“Owww…that hurts. Don’t pull.”

“Darling, you’ll have to let me see. I promise I won’t do anything until we agree.”

“No tricks. It hurts like the Dickens,” she hissed.

“You and your phrases. I am sure you could teach me a pronouncement for any occasion.” His intent was to keep her talking while he examined the shoulder. Distraction worked wonders with treating injuries in the field. “What would you say to me if I said I was going to beat you in a running race?”

“That’s easy…like heck you aren’t.”

“How about if I suggested a wager on it?” He had found the separation and was just ready to surprise her by yanking it back into place.

“I would say you’re on. How much….!!” She screamed.

He released his hold. “There you are all back in place. How does it 81

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feel?”

“You bastard. You tricked me.”

“While I do admit to tricking you. I can assure you I am not a bastard.”

“Where I come from bastard has nothing to do really with your parentage, it’s more of how you act…like jerk or idiot, something like that. You just pulled my arm back into place with no warning.”

“And yet you are even now rolling your shoulder as if you are healed while scolding me with the most vulgar language. I do hope your tirade has helped you get over the worst of your discomfort.”

“So the trick was to distract me?” She looked at him sideways.

“Yes.”

“Well, it does feel better.” She was rolling her shoulder. “I guess you didn’t mean to lie to me. Thanks. I’m sorry. Now I’m really embarrassed at my language. You’ll think I’m a regular trash-mouth.”

“Kathryn, I think nothing like that. You are wonderfully strong and amazingly bullheaded and I do not blame you for being angry with me.

Shall we start back?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve had a mind-blowing orgasm, been shot at, thrown jarringly to the ground, had a shoulder dislocated and then re-located all in a span of less than one mile. I wouldn’t miss the end of this run for the world!”

“When you put it like that, how I can possibly do anything but challenge you to beat me to the cottage on the other side of that rise?”

“You’re on. Go…loser owes the next debt.”

“It’s a deal. You will regret that wager because I will not be so…easy on you.”

“Leaving you in my dust, old man…see if you can keep up.” She bolted, yelling at him over her shoulder.

Kathryn was beginning to outpace him and a spine tingling terror marched its way into his brain. What if the shooter had ridden further on the path but had not departed the scene and was waiting in ambush for them? Kathryn hadn’t even mentioned the shot again or what it might mean since he so effectively distracted her with the shoulder repair, but he was well aware that the long-barreled pistol was a favorite of gentleman—those who practiced at Manton’s for example or collected dueling pistols. That was not the stray shot of a poacher. He didn’t have poachers. They knew well enough to stay away from his lands now that he had returned. He was among those reputed to be a crack shot. His reputation was an effective deterrent.

No. That shooting had been deliberate and the villain had been 82

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aiming for Kathryn. The step forward at the right moment had saved her.

Michael realized the bullet must have missed her heart by inches so he was now running faster than he ever had in his life. Not after any battle on the Continent and not since childhood in races that at the time seemed ever so important had he run as fast as he was now. He had to draw up even with her, put his body close enough to her that he would take any shots that came again.

“You still back there? I can’t hear your breathing. I must be opening up a gap.”

“My lady, your mouth will out run your feet yet. I am overtaking you as we speak.” That was obviously all the challenge she needed.

Michael watched in horror as her muscles rippled, her stride lengthened and Kathryn’s form began pulling away. With burning lungs, screaming legs and a terror filled heart that was pumping so fast it was meeting itself coming and going, Michael did all he could do to keep her in sight. She was going to most definitely reach the cabin before him but what drove him the last hundred feet was the absolute fear that there was danger awaiting there at the cabin.

Her scream pierced him like a knife.

“Kathryn!”
His fear was palpable as he raced that last few feet toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“I win. I win!” she yelled. “I know it’s not at all sportsmanlike to gloat, but your mouth was running faster than your feet, to quote a pious Englishman I know. Well, I knew I had you when you said it. I haven’t raced like that in years, not since college cross-country and then it was exhilarating. Now, wow…I knew just how much I had to beat you. ”

His heart would not steady. He thought something had happened but her scream was of joy. The gunshot had obviously affected him more than he could even have imagined and the race had taken a huge amount of energy. He was becoming lightheaded and when Kathryn pulled him by the hand down the path, he realized he was grateful for her ministrations.

“Don’t you know that after that kind of run you have to keep moving, keep the blood flowing.”

“I…I…”

“Yeah, big boy. I know you are one solid wall of muscle but you don’t do a lot of aerobic exercise. Endurance is different from muscle and brute force.”

“Somewhere… in there, there was…a…compliment. Something about muscles…”

“Yes, you have them and if you don’t mind me saying so, they are 83

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quite impressive.”

“You find my muscles impressive?” Michael was beginning to catch his breath, and his wits.

She stopped and turned to face him, his hand still clasped in hers. “I think I told you once before what I think about your body but I will tell you something else if you promise not to accuse me of flattery or flirtation.”

“Kathryn, your assessments of me don’t…”

“I know, they don’t make me a flirt. So here goes. I’ve not seen a guy with your muscles and your size run like that…ever. Most runners are sleek and slim, long lean muscles. You are powerfully muscled. You must be in amazing shape to have made that run carrying all those muscles with you.”

“Again, somehow I think that was a compliment although it was wrapped in an awfully odd assessment of my physical abilities.”

She laughed and released his hand, turning around to hide the blush that he could see all down the backs of her arms and her slim neck. She was, he believed, the most stunning female he had ever seen. Her shirt was sweat-soaked and he now saw clearly the lines of the simple bindings she had worn to cinch up her breasts. He was intrigued by the glistening sweat running in lines down the side of her sharply angled cheekbone. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms about her waist and tasted the salty rivulets trailing down her skin. “You taste like the English Channel.”

Although they were both sweaty, she snuggled close. “That’s an unusual analogy. How so?”

“Home. Freedom. Victory. Life. You taste like life, Kathryn. You are simply magnificent.”

She reached down to grip his huge thighs while he began a regular pattern of licking her cheek, ear, neck, cheek, ear, neck. She was becoming weak with desire. “You are doing it again…you will...owe me.”

“What I will do to you right here and now is part of no debt or wager.” He moved his fingers into position at her breast and the apex of her thighs and matched their rhythm to that of his tongue. Kathryn’s knees gave under his onslaught, his arms having no trouble holding her and she began thrusting into his hand. He felt the pressure between her thighs building to a crescendo. He kept at her relentlessly until she shattered in his arms, moaning his name. He felt her waves of pleasure course through her and she slumped fully into his embrace.

Without disturbing her shuddering, Michael lifted Kathryn into his 84

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arms, turning on his heel back toward his house. She let her head fall against his chest but held onto him loosely. He removed her arms from his waist instead choosing to carry her dead weight. He wanted her like this. At his mercy. Dependent.

Weak, just for a few minutes.

Completely sated and fragile.

His.

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They had been out for hours and it was well past tea time. He reluctantly allowed her to walk when he realized that the household had probably begun to worry and someone perceptive would most likely be watching for them. They were sorely at risk for being late for dinner.

Hallthorpe opened the grand doors and turned his face so Michael could not see his startled expression at their appearances. They must look quite shocking with the sweat and dirt of the race and the ground. “You have a message from Lord Weatherford that is waiting on your desk, sir,” Hallthorpe whispered after Kathryn had taken a few steps and was just out of earshot.

Asterleigh

We have found some distressing evidence. Meet at Worley at 10:00

p.m. Do not ride alone or unarmed. Weatherford
That sounded more than distressing, he thought after getting the message. He was grateful that the meeting had been arranged already however, as he would have had to do so himself after the events of the afternoon. Michael was now convinced that there was a plot against Kathryn’s life and for the life of him, he could not figure out why. She had not acted like there was anyone after her. She was too honest in her expressions and she was so far away from home he could not countenance that someone from her past or her present harboring the kinds of resentments to kill her had followed her this far. Who around here would want her dead unless…

Michael pushed the thought to the back of his mind but it found its way forward again. Julian’s words came back… “Is she more than just a houseguest…it could explain things…” such as if she is the Duchess presumptive and then if she was carrying an heir someone with designs on the Duchy could be targeting them.
What if someone was trying to
end his line and they were starting with Kathryn?