Lost Lords: No Longer A Gentleman Part 8

The second thing he'd learned was that riding required the use of muscles he'd forgotten he possessed. Despite the rest breaks, every muscle and joint in his body was complaining by late afternoon.

The track had narrowed so Ca.s.sie had led for the last couple of hours. The blasted woman seemed tireless. She had an elegant back, though, and she rode beautifully. He enjoyed watching her.

He'd stopped feeling guilty about inappropriate thoughts for a female twice his age. She was proof that a woman could be alluring no matter how many years she had. A good thing she was capable of tossing him into the nearest wall if he behaved badly.

Would he know what to do with a willing female when the time came? He supposed if he could still ride a horse, he'd be able to ride a woman. He'd find out once he was back in England. For now, he and his guide needed to concentrate on traveling quickly and not being noticed.

The hut was by a jagged outcropping of rock, just as Romain Boyer had described. Ca.s.sie halted in front. The hut was small, large enough for perhaps four people to sleep if they liked each other well. A lean-to had been added on one side for horses, and the other side boasted a pile of wood. "I'm glad to see firewood," she said as she dismounted. "It's going to be a very cold night."

Grey tried not to groan when he swung from Achille's broad back. "I don't mind the cold, but my aching body is likely to stiffen like a board by morning."

"I have some liniment that's good for sore muscles." She led her pony to the lean-to and started to bed Thistle down for the night.

"You are a remarkably useful woman to have around." He tethered Achille under the lean-to and removed the saddle. He was becoming rather fond of the old boy.

"My fairy G.o.dmother bestowed practical gifts like efficiency and endurance rather than beauty, charm, or golden hair," Ca.s.sie said dryly.

He wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing. He doubted she would be flattered if he told her she had a beautiful back. Even though it was true.

Ca.s.sie the Fox was the perfect travel partner, Grey decided as he rolled into his blanket that night. She was relaxing to be with and fulfilled his desire for companionship while asking very little of him. Which was good, because his camping skills were nonexistent. While she prepared supper and hot tea, all he'd had to do was forage for more firewood to replace what they used from the woodpile.

On the other side of the hut, Ca.s.sie wrapped her blanket around herself. She was all of about four feet away from him. "Sleep well," she murmured. "Tomorrow's ride should be easier."

"Every day is a new adventure," he replied. "Tomorrow's will be discovering if my seat is too sore to sit a saddle."

Her laughter swiftly turned into the soft, regular breathing of sleep. He was so tired that he thought he'd sleep easily, too, but his mind stubbornly refused to slow down.

Ca.s.sie might think herself lacking in beauty, but he found her increasingly alluring. With nothing else to distract him, all he could think about was her.

He rolled onto his side facing away, but it was impossible to forget her presence. As the night wore on, he added wood to the flames in the primitive little fireplace. It barely took the chill off the air, but no matter. He was quite heated enough.

During the latter years of his captivity, pa.s.sion had died and he'd felt like a eunuch. The idea had hardly bothered him when there were no women in his world except in increasingly distant memories. But now he was sharing a small s.p.a.ce with an attractive woman whom he liked and admired, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to touch her.

He guessed it would be a long time before his craving for touch would be slaked. Greedily he remembered the hug she'd allowed when he had just been freed. She was all woman-soft and woman scented, but also strong. Efficient, but kind.

He couldn't help but wonder how far her compa.s.sion would go. Would she lie with him from pity? He was so crazed with l.u.s.t that he didn't care what her motives might be. Pity would be fine if offered.

But his last shreds of sanity and honor wouldn't let him roll across the hut to wake her and beg for the sweet solace of her body. She was the bravest woman he'd ever met, his savior, and she deserved better than to be pawed by a fool like him. If he tried, she'd probably emasculate him, and justly so.

He pulled his blanket tight and ordered his mind to sleep. Sleep.

Chapter 17.

A cold night was improved by having a warm man in one's bed. The large, stroking hand pulled Ca.s.sie from deep sleep to the edge of awareness and created a curl of desire that moved gently through her. Warm lips touched her throat and she stretched her neck into the kiss.

"Rob?" she murmured. She was wearing too many layers of clothing because of the cold, but that could be worked around. As his lips nibbled toward her ear, desire and wakefulness increased.

She turned her face toward him and his mouth covered hers hungrily. The kiss was deep and pa.s.sionate. She loved the erotic brush of his beard on her face.

A beard? She jolted to full wakefulness when she realized that what she felt wasn't the faint bristle of an overnight shadow, but a full-blown beard. Not Rob.

"d.a.m.nation!" She shoved hard at the body covering hers even before she recognized that it must be her traveling companion.

Grey gasped, then swore, "Merde!" as he hurled himself away from her. "Dear G.o.d in heaven, what was I doing? I swore to myself that I wouldn't touch you!"

He drew a ragged breath. "I thought ... I thought I was dreaming." There was enough light from the embers on the hearth to illuminate the genuine horror on his face.

"Your dream was an active one," she said acerbically.

"I am a beast!" His voice was agonized. "Please ... please forgive me. I didn't intend such insult. I'll move outside for the rest of the night."

"Wait!" She caught his arm as he started to rise. "This was regrettable, but not entirely surprising when we're sharing tight quarters and you've been deprived of female companionship for so long. Any woman looks attractive."

"You undervalue yourself," he said tautly. "I've found you attractive from the beginning. Yes, I'm hungry for the embrace of a woman, but that alone wouldn't have led me to a.s.sault you in my sleep."

Taken aback, she asked, "How can you be interested in an old woman like me?"

"I've always liked females with something to say for themselves, and that's more common among mature women." He shook his head. "As heir to an earldom, I think I was giggled at by every brainless debutante in the ton. A woman like you, with strength and courage and intelligence, is a hundred times more attractive."

He laid his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. "Which is why I bathed in an icy pond my first night out of prison, and why I'd best sleep outside now. There's a reason why young people are chaperoned carefully. Being close to an attractive woman can destroy male judgment."

She hesitated, knowing she could let him go outside and they'd never refer to this awkward incident again. But did she want him to leave? Her blood hammered with rising desire. Like Grey, she yearned for touch and intimacy.

And if he thought she was attractive despite her carefully maintained guise of age and drabness ... well, she found him attractive despite the effects of his imprisonment. Recklessly she said, "Don't leave."

His arm became rigid under her hand and the air thickened with tension. "I would like nothing better than to lie with you. I don't mind if it's from pity, but it mustn't be because I've coerced you."

"I've lain with men for worse reasons than mutual pleasure and comfort." She leaned forward and kissed him hungrily. Bed.a.m.ned to restraint and good sense.

Now that they were awake and willing, sleepy fondling blazed into sharp, clear pa.s.sion. His mouth was demanding, hot with need, arousing equal heat in her. Impatiently she drew him down onto her rumpled blanket.

"I may have forgotten how to do this," he said gruffly.

She laughed as he loosened the bodice of her gown. "I doubt that."

Grey might be half crazed with l.u.s.t, but as with his riding, he remembered the skills of lovemaking even after ten years of deprivation. With her gown loose, he pulled down the shift to bare her breast. Her nipple tightened in the icy air, then tightened more when his warm lips captured it.

She caught her breath and arched into his kiss, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back. His hand moved down her body, leaving fire wherever it touched despite her clothing.

He caressed her hip and thigh, then slipped his hand beneath her gown. His warm hand on her bare flesh made a wickedly erotic contrast to the cool air that flowed over her intimate parts. Then he banished the cold with deft, heated fingers.

She pulsed against him as he brought her to swift readiness. His breathing harsh, he undid his trousers, moved between her legs and entered her with a long groan of pleasure. For an instant he was still, every fiber of his body rigid. "I ... I can't last long."

"Of course not," she breathed as she rocked against him.

Her movement shattered his control and he convulsed, pouring himself into her in seemingly endless rapture. Chest heaving, he subsided, his bearded cheek against her forehead as he murmured incoherent endearments in French.

She brushed his damp hair, amused and frustrated. She'd known this joining would be quick. Though not how quick. "You seem to have remembered the basics."

"That was even better than I remembered," he said with a catch of laughter. "Just touching you dissolved every shred of restraint I possess." He rolled to his side and pulled her skirts down over her bare legs, then slid a hand up to her thigh under the fabric. "I also remember this matter isn't finished yet."

She gave a startled squeak when his questing fingers touched moist, sensitized flesh. Surprise dissolved into hot, pulsing sensation. She was so aroused it took him only a few skilled strokes to bring her to intense release. She buried her face against his shoulder to cover her cry of pleasure as shudders wracked her body.

She relaxed in his arms as sweet peace curled through her, content to drowse in the moment. Strange how their bodies could be in such harmony when they scarcely knew each other. Perhaps the fact that Grey would be gone from her life in less than a fortnight made this rare, startling intimacy possible.

He held her close, his hands caressing the length of her back. "I wonder if we'll have a chance to do this someplace warm enough that we can take our clothes off."

"At my age, nakedness is not always desirable," she said wryly. "It's been a good few years since I was eighteen."

"'Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety,'" he quoted. "You are timeless, Ca.s.sie the Fox. Now I have twice the reason to be grateful to you. You've restored not only my freedom but my manhood."

"No grat.i.tude is needed for mutual pleasure," she said drowsily. "If you feel you owe me something, make it up in the future when you will have opportunities to help others. That's the best part of being a lord. Your power to aid the less fortunate."

"You sound like my mother." He reached for his blanket and added it to the coverings over them. "She has always been very keen on helping the less fortunate."

"And you aren't?"

He hesitated. "I was raised to have a sense of n.o.blesse oblige, but it was just words to me. Though I a.s.sumed I'd do the right thing when the time came, I never thought much about what that meant. In the future, I shall be much more aware of how fate can be unkind, and when I might be able to help."

"Another silver lining to be found under a very dark cloud."

"I suppose." Tenderly he cradled her head. "I want to know more about you, Ca.s.sie. Have you any family? A husband, a lover, children, grandchildren?"

"If I had a husband, I would not be lying with you," she said dryly. "I have none of the other things, either."

"Not even a lover? Any woman as splendid as you deserves a lover. Maybe several," he said firmly.

"There is a man in London," she said slowly. "More than a friend, but less than a lover. We know not to ask too much of each other." Neither of them had much to give.

His arm tightened around her. "Perhaps when this war is finally over and you find that cottage, you'll also find the companion you deserve," he said. "Someone to share your declining years."

"You're a romantic, Lord Wyndham." She smiled into the darkness, thinking there was no reason he shouldn't know the truth. "How old do you think I am?"

He frowned. "I really don't know. At first I thought you must be at least sixty, but you're so strong and fit." His fingers trailed down her cheek. "You have lovely, smooth skin, and from what I've felt of your body, your figure is one any woman would be happy to possess. Perhaps ... you're in your midforties and descended from a long line of healthy folk who lived to ripe old ages?"

She chuckled. "I'm about two years younger than you are."

"The devil you say!" He stared at her in the dim light. "You helped me disguise myself, so presumably you've done the same to yourself. Yet still I wouldn't have guessed you to be so young."

"A friend of mine in London is a master perfumer," Ca.s.sie explained. "She created a blend she calls Antiqua. The scent is essence of harmless little old lady."

He began laughing. "That's brilliant!" Laughter abruptly cut off. "Then you are of child-bearing age, and I didn't leave before I came."

"No need to worry. I use a very ancient and generally reliable method of preventing unwanted consequences." She shrugged. "Either the wild carrot seeds work, or I'm barren. I've never had occasion to worry."

"Now that we've settled that"-he nuzzled her neck-"I look forward to smelling you when you're not wearing Antiqua. I'm sure your scent is utterly alluring."

"I don't know about that, but I probably won't smell twice my age," she agreed.

"Any last guilt pangs I felt for l.u.s.ting after a woman older than my mother have vanished." His nuzzling turned into a delicate tracing of his tongue around her ear. As she caught her breath, he continued, "I really must delve deeper to find the true essence of Ca.s.sie the Fox, the most delectable vixen in France."

Telling him her real age had changed things between them, she realized. He was no longer giving her the deference due a respected older woman. Instead, he was playful in a way that was new to her. "Vixens bite," she warned before nipping his ear.

He inhaled and she felt him hardening against her thigh. "So do their foxes."

He set his teeth on her nipple with exactly the right amount of pressure to excite, not hurt. She was shocked at how powerfully pa.s.sion flared. She wouldn't have thought it possible so soon. "You have much lost time to make up for," she said huskily.

"Indeed I do." His palm came to rest on the juncture of her thighs, moving in slow circles as he gave luxurious attention to her breast. "And I want to make up for all that lost time with you."

She laughed, feeling like the young girl she'd never had a chance to be. Ten years couldn't be made up in two weeks. But they could try.

Grey awoke feeling like a new man. Or rather, a man reborn. The air was bitter cold, but enough morning light seeped into the hut that he could study the delicate features of Ca.s.sie's sleeping face, which was mere inches away.

Now that he knew her real age, he was amazed that he'd thought her old. She'd drawn subtle lines of age on her face, but this close he could see the smoothness of her complexion. She carried herself as a woman worn out by too many years of living when in fact she was the strongest, most physically adept female he'd ever met.

He bent the few inches forward to press his lips tenderly to hers. Her eyes flickered open. "I am in love," he breathed. "Truly, deeply, madly, intoxicated with the most wonderful woman in the world."

There was something deep and unreadable in her enigmatic blue eyes before she said briskly, "It's the pa.s.sion you're in love with, not me. Don't worry, you'll recover from any infatuation that you might feel, Lord Wyndham. Now it's time we rose and broke our fast so we can be on our way."

He blinked. Even a teasing declaration should be treated with some respect. "Can't I be at least a little in love with you?"

She gave him a twisted smile. "Pa.s.sion warps the mind and judgment. I merely happen to be available. That's not the same as love."

He wasn't sure he agreed with her. Love might be more than pa.s.sion, but really good pa.s.sion such as they'd shared through the night was surely an element of love.

He slipped his hand into the folds of her clothing and cupped her bare breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. "Available is an excellent quality and not to be wasted. Surely we can delay breakfast for a bit."

She caught her breath, her eyes turning misty. "For a few minutes, I suppose. That should be plenty of time for you."

He roared with laughter. "Is that a challenge, my delicious vixen? I shall take it as one." He wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled onto his back so that she was lying on top of him, her mischievous face above him. Her old-age perfume was wearing off, so he could inhale her natural alluring female scent. Uniquely Ca.s.sie.

There was truth in her belief that he was in love with making love. But she was far more than the nearest willing woman. He really was a little in love with her. And, he guessed as her kiss sent him spinning into rapture, he always would be.

Ca.s.sie suspected she was smiling like a fool as they set off on the rugged track that would take them out of the hills to a road that led north. Though it was hard to read Grey's expression behind the beard, she suspected he was also beaming. They'd ended up delaying breakfast for quite some time.

She'd been rather touched by his joking claim to be madly in love with her even though he was really just expressing his exuberant pleasure in his rediscovered s.e.xuality. Perhaps she was a little bit in love with Grey. His lovemaking had a playfulness that was new to her. She looked forward to more pa.s.sionate interludes between now and the time she delivered him to Kirkland in London.

Grey would return to the loving arms of family and friends and, in time, a suitable young wife. Ca.s.sie hoped she would be sensitive about what Grey had endured.

As for Ca.s.sie, she'd return to France with blazing memories to warm her in that English cottage, if she lived long enough to retire. She'd survived more than a dozen years in the spying trade. Perhaps she'd actually live to celebrate Napoleon's death.