Simply Forbidden (3 page)

She cleared her throat. “I need to go back. I have to be at the breakfast table to greet my father’s guests.”

He frowned and glanced at the distant stable clock. “We’ve only been here an hour.”

“And an hour is all I have to spare.” Lisette headed toward the gate and waited for him to follow. “If you wish to keep riding, I’m sure I can find my way back to the stable alone.”

“No, I’ll accompany you. But can you wait a moment while I try out this horse?”

“Of course.” Lisette summoned a gracious smile. He didn’t bother to reply, just swept by her into a fast posting trot, a canter, and then into a full gallop. She could do nothing but admire his prowess. He moved as if his body was part of the horse, his hands relaxed on the reins, his hips rolling with each motion. She also knew he wasn’t doing it to impress her; his focus was totally on the horse.

After a few minutes, he drew to a thundering stop an inch from her horse and grinned at her. His smile was so dazzling she blinked, and then it was gone.

“I think I’ll buy this horse.”

“I’m sure my father will be delighted.”

Gabriel jumped down to open the gate and then remounted.

“You ride as if you were born on a horse. Did your father put you up there as a baby?”

“By the time I knew of him, my father was too old to do anything with me.” His mouth twisted. “I spent most of my early life in the stables annoying the coachmen, until they took me in hand and made sure I learned, not only how to behave, but how to ride and care for my horses.”

“At least you learned. I grew up in a French convent.”

He turned to look at her, his black hair disordered by the wind, his cheeks flushed with color. “Not many horses there, then.”

“No, none at all.” She wondered if he’d inquire further about her unusual upbringing, almost hoped he would, but wasn’t entirely surprised that his interest lay in the lack of horses at the nunnery rather than her plight. The stable yard came into sight, and Lisette saw the small stable boy perched on the fence waiting for them.

“Thank you for your help.”

He shrugged. “You did well.”

The horses stopped and the boy ran to their heads to hold
the reins. Lisette turned to find Lord Swanfield waiting to lift her down. She managed to swing her leg over the saddle, but when she tried to kick her other foot free she found the strength in her knees gone and clutched at his solid form.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.”

She obeyed, simply because she had no choice, and felt the warmth of his body and the flex of his muscles beneath the fine wool of his coat. His hands closed around her waist and he slowly brought her down to the ground, her body aligned with his. Behind her, she heard the stable boy whistling to the horses as he walked them away. Lord Swanfield didn’t release her and she made the mistake of looking up at him. He bent his head and kissed her, nipped at her lower lip until she opened her mouth to his tongue.

With a groan he backed her up against the shadows of the stable wall where no one could see them. His kiss was as hot and possessive as she had hoped—had she hoped for this? This torrent of unexpected emotion, this desire to open herself to him and for him?

She wrenched her mouth away from his. “I didn’t say you could kiss me.”

“I didn’t ask.” He lowered his head again and kissed her harder and she forgot to argue, just luxuriated in the sensation of being engulfed, devoured, and possessed…. His hands roamed over her body, kneaded her buttocks, and pressed her closer and closer to the thickness of his buckskin-covered erection. She stood on tiptoe and threaded her hand through his black hair, tried to fit herself against his heat and the promise of his muscular frame.

When he finally lifted his head, her lips were swollen, her breath coming in pants.

“Was there something you wanted to ask me, Miss Ross?”

“What?” Confused, she sought his eyes and saw lust and
something far more watchful in his dark gaze. “What was I supposed to ask you?”

He stepped back and bowed. “It’s of no matter. I’ll see you here tomorrow at five.”

Lisette brought a trembling hand to her lips, suddenly conscious of where they were and of the possibility of prying eyes. Despite what Christian believed, she was usually very careful to behave in an appropriately ladylike manner when she was at her father’s house. But she didn’t feel ladylike. For the first time in a long while she wanted to experience the sexual joys her mother always hinted at, joys Lisette had begun to believe were not meant for her.

“Miss Ross?”

There was a hint of impatience in Lord Swanfield’s voice, as though he’d never kissed her, or as if she had disappointed him in some way. She studied his face, saw the desire he couldn’t conceal, and dropped her gaze lower to the shape of his hard shaft rising from his breeches. Had he felt anything, or was this just part of his usual morning ritual? A result of biology rather than true interest or passion?

She licked her lips and tasted coffee and pure maleness. “Do you always kiss women you have just met like that?”

He considered her for a long moment. “No. Good morning, Miss Ross.” He turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Lisette remained in the shadows until the flush on her cheeks disappeared and her heart rate returned to normal. She’d kissed a lot of men, but most of them never dared to take such liberties with her person as Lord Swanfield had. She was usually the one in control. Despite his lack of courtesy, he excited her more than any other man.

She sighed and went to find her cloak. There was no time to ponder the interesting matter of her attraction to such a man now. She needed to get ready for the day as her father’s hostess.
Dare she turn up tomorrow for her riding lesson? It seemed likely that Lord Swanfield would want to continue his other, more sensual lessons as well. She shivered at the thought of him touching her again, and realized she had no choice. She’d be back in the morning whether it was safe or not.

G
abriel tried to concentrate on the sway of Miss Ross’s body in the saddle as she trotted past him, but his treacherous imagination kept placing her in a different situation altogether; on top of him as she rose and fell, her naked breasts in his face, his fingers on her clit, stroking her to a climax.

“Was that better?” She pulled up alongside him.

“Hmm. Do it again.”

She pouted as he sent her off around the field again, but it was that or pull her out of the saddle and shove his cock deep inside her. Briefly, Gabriel closed his eyes as his expanding cock kicked against his breeches. He hadn’t felt like this about a woman for years, this driving need to possess, to own, and to dominate. He hadn’t meant to kiss her yesterday either, but the chance to help her win her bet had given him the perfect excuse to tease her. He’d thought he’d never feel capable of wanting a woman like that again. Miss Ross had made a fool out of him, whether she realized it or not.

“My lord?”

“Canter now.”

She sighed, but she obeyed him, her lithe body reacting perfectly to the change of pace and the lengthening of the horse’s stride. She’d be ready to try that abomination of the sidesaddle tomorrow and all his good work would be ruined, but at least she’d have her confidence back. He turned toward the gate and opened it, waiting for her to catch him up. Her knee brushed his as they rode together up the narrow path, sending a jolt of pure lust straight to his cock.

She glanced up at him as the stable boy relieved them of their horses. “Are you going to kiss me again today?”

“Do you want me to?”

Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Not particularly.”

He closed in on her, moving her back into the shadows of the huge medieval barn. “Liar.” He sought her mouth, found it already waiting for him, and was engulfed in a fiery need that shocked him to the core. Without further thought his hands worked on the waistband of her borrowed breeches and dragged out the tails of her shirt.

She pulled his hair hard. “What are you doing?”

“Finding your breasts.”

“I …” She stopped speaking and gasped instead as he shoved aside the linen binding her breasts and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He drew hard on her, used his fingers to bring her other nipple to a needy point and then sucked that one, too. She didn’t push him away. She caught the rhythm of his suckling and moved her hips to it, offered herself to him, even if she didn’t realize it. He shoved his knee between her legs until she rode his thigh, felt her fingers tighten and tighten in his hair until he no longer felt the sting of pain, until she climaxed with a muffled scream and buried her face in his shoulder.

Despite his protesting cock, he slowly pulled away and stared down at her. He’d learned the hard way to control his passions, never realizing that his painful experiences might aid him now.

“Are you sure that there isn’t anything you want to ask me, Miss Ross?” He winced at the hoarseness of his own words, the northern burr he’d tried so hard to eliminate from his speech. It irked him that she’d made no effort to win her wager and coerce him into asking her for a dance at the upcoming ball. It irked him that he was attracted to her at all.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” She stuffed her shirt back into her breeches and fastened them. “Or is it your way of suggesting I take you up to my bedchamber and have my wicked way with you?”

God, he’d like that, like her stretched out naked on the sheets, her long legs open wide, his mouth sucking and licking at her wet, willing sex.

Her hazel eyes narrowed and he wondered what she’d seen on his face. “Do you think I’m the kind of woman who would take a lover before marriage?”

He blinked down at her, his salacious thoughts still cluttering his brain. “You let me kiss you.”

“Kissing a man is not the same as bedding one!”

“Surely one thing leads to another?”

“Not always, Lord Swanfield.”

He stepped back just in case. “And how am I supposed to know that?”

“From your long and no doubt varied career seducing women?”

He glared down at her. “I kissed you because I wanted to. If you don’t want me to kiss you, perhaps you should show more restraint and not throw yourself at me and stick your tongue in my mouth.”

His head snapped back as her bare palm met his cheek with a resounding crack. He waited to see if she would hit him again, and saw instead that tears glinted in her eyes. He couldn’t bear that. He swallowed hard. “I apologize for my last remark. It was uncalled for.”

She bit down on her lip. “No, it wasn’t. You are quite right. No single woman should be kissing an eligible man behind the stables. I should be apologizing to you.”

“I liked you kissing me.”

Her smile was wry. “And I liked kissing you, but I’m forced to admit that you are right. It certainly isn’t a very ladylike way to behave.”

He shrugged, aware that all he wanted to do was kiss her again until she screamed his name and begged to take his cock inside her. He’d known she was an unusual woman, and her reaction to his kisses had proved it. But he still had his fences to mend, and for once he was willing to make the effort.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were a loose woman.”

“Thank you—I think.” She smoothed a hand over her disordered hair and glanced up at him. “My family circumstances make it imperative that my conduct is beyond reproach. Sometimes I find it hard to live up to society’s expectations.”

“Obviously you don’t know much about my position in society,” he said dryly. “I have many of the same restraints.”

“Really?” She gave him a speculative look as they both turned to retrace their steps back to the house. “What did you do?”

He kept his gaze on the path. “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll find someone amongst your acquaintance to tell you all the juicy details.”

“I’d much rather hear the truth from you.”

He halted on the path and bowed, hoping his smile was as withering as his tone. “Then you’ll have to wait a very long time. Good morning, Miss Ross. I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”

He strode away from her before she said something else to either infuriate or arouse him. How long was it since a woman had elicited such a response from him? He couldn’t remember and didn’t want to remember. What the devil was wrong with him? He’d been much happier just concentrating on his horses.

Yet again, Lisette found herself following after Lord Swan-field as he strode ahead of her. Sheer rage quickened her stride, then finally made her run after him and call his name.

“I wish you would stop walking away from me.”

He didn’t stop. “Our conversation is over.”

“If you weren’t implying that I should ask you to my bed, what
were
you expecting me to ask you?”

He stopped then but didn’t turn around. Lisette struggled to control her ragged breathing as she waited for his response. When he said nothing, she forced herself to continue. “I assumed you kissed me because you wanted to, but perhaps there is more to it.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression inscrutable. “What more could there be?”

“Surely that is for you to tell me?”

“If you don’t know, then there is nothing to say.”

Lisette resisted the urge to stamp her booted foot or kick him in the shins. Was she angry because she’d realized that while she was unable to resist him, he was totally in control of his actions, aware of his affect on her, and able to pull back whenever he wanted to? She was usually the person who did that. She’d learned from her mother, a master of the erotic arts. Perhaps it was simply her hurt pride that urged her to question him.

“Never mind.” She sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“At five.” He bowed. “I’ll make sure Mr. Green uses the sidesaddle.”

“Tomorrow will be our last lesson before the hunt.”

“Then we should make sure to use the time wisely.”

She glared at him. “Don’t worry, my lord. If you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll keep my tongue in my mouth.”

His mouth twitched up at the corner as if he was about to smile but he quickly suppressed it. “Indeed.”

Lisette watched him leave and headed up the back stairs to her bedchamber. Morning sun stippled the rose-patterned carpet and glinted off the gold mirror outside her door.

“Been anywhere interesting, sister?”

Lisette stiffened as Christian strolled toward her. His cravat was untied and his coat lay over his arm; his hair was tousled as if he had just woken up.

“Just down to the stables.”

“At this hour?” Christian leaned up against the doorjamb. “I thought you loathed riding.”

“Which is why I’m trying to improve.” She put her hand on the door handle. “Excuse me, I have to get changed.”

Christian followed her into her room and shut the door behind him. He strolled across to a chair and sat down. “Did I mention that I saw Lord Swanfield creeping in as well?”

“Did you?”

“He, too, was dressed for riding.”

“How interesting.” Lisette took off her coat and fiddled with the cuffs of her shirt. “And where have you been? You scarcely look as if you are dressed for the day.”

He smiled lasciviously. “I’m not.”

She met his far from innocent hazel gaze. “And yet you have the gall to question me about my whereabouts.”

His eyebrows rose. “My, my, we are defensive this morning. Are you worried I’ll put two and two together and assume you clandestinely met Lord Swanfield in the stables?”

“I did meet him in the stables. He is a hard man to avoid.” Lisette rang the bell for her maid and undid the fastening of her braid so that she could brush out her hair. She was all too aware of Christian watching her in the mirror.

“And?”

“And nothing.” She turned to smile at him. “He really is the most infuriating man.”

Christian stood up. “I don’t believe you.”

“That he is infuriating? Trust me, the man has the manners of a commoner and the morals of an elderly nun.”

“And you know this because you’ve tried to flirt with him?”

“I’ve given up trying to flirt with him. I leave that to Emily.”

Christian didn’t look convinced. “I think I’ve seen him at the pleasure house.”

“So?”

“So, don’t trust him.”

Lisette forced a laugh. “Really, Christian, if I mistrusted everyone who went to Maman’s I wouldn’t have any confidence in the vast majority of the aristocracy, the entire house of Lords, and quite a few members of Parliament.”

Christian headed for the door. “If you don’t want to listen to me, I’ll leave you to dress.”

Lisette stood up, too. “You haven’t said anything worth listening to yet.”

“I’ve suggested you keep away from Lord Swanfield. Isn’t that enough?”

“You suggested nothing. You merely told me not to trust him. And I don’t. I’m not stupid, Christian.”

His smile was reluctant. “I know that.” He studied his fingers. “But, God knows why, I get the sense that he is important to you.”

“More important than you, perhaps?” Lisette tried to make a joke of it. “Are you jealous?”

Christian looked at her steadily. “Yes, I think I am. It’s not like you to defend another man.”

Lisette sighed. “Why are you making this so difficult? I haven’t asked where you were last night. I haven’t made assumptions about your choice of companion or commented on your morals.”

“And you never do, do you?” His smile was rueful. “I’ve always tried to protect you from the worst of my excesses.”

Lisette bit her lip. “I don’t need protection from Lord Swanfield. He will be gone after the ball and I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

“Let’s hope that’s true. You seem … different this time and that concerns me.” Christian nodded as Lisette’s maid entered the chamber. “I’ll leave you to dress.”

Lisette sat back down again, her thoughts in turmoil. She and Christian had always been close, some gossiped unnaturally so, and she was shaken by his questions. For the first time in her life she wasn’t willing to share her feelings about another man, to hold him up for either Christian’s ridicule or his approval. She wanted to keep her meetings with Lord Swanfield private. Was that so wrong?

She was almost twenty-two now and no longer a child. Had she finally reached a parting of ways with her brother? Perhaps it was time they grew apart. He had become increasingly distant over the last year anyway, his sexual activities a closely guarded secret; his friends, his adventures no longer shared with her.

Lisette listened to her maid’s chatter and stared at her perturbed reflection in the mirror. If she managed to get through tomorrow’s riding lesson without incident, perhaps her unsettling attraction to Lord Swanfield would disappear and all would be well between her and Christian again. She sighed. Or perhaps it was simply too late to return to how things had been and she should move on.

With a stifled curse she realized she couldn’t trust herself to ride with Lord Swanfield. She craved his touch more than she craved peace with her twin and that was unacceptable. Despite her efforts to behave like a lady she’d allowed a man to make her climax in public! A wave of heat flooded her cheeks and she pressed her hands to her face. There was no excuse. She would have to renege on the arrangement and keep out of his way until he left.

* * * 

“Let me be, man.”

Gabriel scowled down at Keyes, his valet, who continued to fuss over the arrangement of his cravat and the positioning of the single jet pin to secure it.

“Just a minute, sir, and I’ll be done. You want to look your best, don’t you, sir?”

“Not particularly.”

Keyes looked aghast. “You’re going to a ball, sir. You have to impress the ladies.”

“And if I don’t want to impress them?” Gabriel moved irritably away from the mirror, hating the sight of his own face, the same face as the man who’d sired him for the most dishonorable of reasons. “In truth, I wish all women to the devil.”

Miss Ross hadn’t turned up for their riding lesson and she’d avoided him all day. Just to spite her, he’d asked Miss Emily to dance with him at the upcoming ball and endured her rapturous acceptance. But even that hadn’t persuaded Miss Ross to seek him out, and now he was committed to attend the kind of social occasion he loathed. He could only hope he’d manage a moment alone with Miss Ross to set things straight between them, and then he’d leave, hunting be damned.