Portrait of a Scandal (4 page)

Thomas felt the tingling build in his balls, expanding through his body, but he ignored the urge to spill prematurely. He began to pump his hand faster as he thought of Lady Nellie’s passion-filled gaze, as she slid down his length and took him into her wet mouth, caressing him with that sharp tongue in a completely new, erotic dance.

He moved his hands faster, his hips leaving the mattress as he worked to prolong his pleasure, before he let go, groaning into the darkness and spilling into the cool sheets around him.

* * * *

“That is an amazing animal,” Thomas muttered, as a groom brought forward a stunning grey stallion. The beast tossed his head in protest at the groom’s control, but the man did not relent. It took Thomas a moment to realise the horse bore a side-saddle.

“That he is. Cost me the dickens, too,” Lord Kilbride said with humour.

“Lady Nellie is to ride him?”

The older man chuckled. “Yes. Nel has had him since her sixteenth birthday. I have never seen a rider and horse so well matched. I would have thought that with their personalities so aligned they would butt heads, but they are the best of friends.”

Nellie soon descended the steps of the grand manor house, a riding habit hugging her smooth curves. The bodice clung greedily to her breasts as it tapered down to her slim waist then flared at her wide hips. The top hat and fine veil made her look regal and downright stunning. Thomas forced himself to not dwell on her lushness—otherwise he would be riding with a stiff cock. Not a comfortable way to endure any hunt.

“Good morning, Lord Sterling,” she said, with a nod in his direction and a warm smile towards her father.

“Good morning, Lady Nellie. I was just admiring your horse,” he said, looking over the animal and his owner, unable to stop himself.

Nellie cooed to the stallion as they approached. The horse had been watching her since she had come upon them, and now had his ears pricked in her direction. The sudden whinny aimed at his mistress, and how the horse reached towards her as Nellie approached, confirmed her father’s words. She rubbed his muzzle and spoke to him too quietly for Thomas to hear.

“What breed is he?” Thomas asked.

“Geist is a Trakehner. Father bought him for me when we travelled through Prussia,” she said fondly.

“Spirit,” Thomas said. He watched her subtle fingers, clothed in a riding glove, stroke the soft skin of the horse’s muzzle. Last night, he had imagined those fingers at other tasks.

“You speak German?” she asked with surprise, turning to him.

“A little. Are you fluent?”

“Yes. My governess during our travels was German. She taught me well.”

“Well, I am sure he lives up to his name,” Thomas said, moving forward to pat the stallion. The horse shifted away from his touch, almost trampling the groom in the process.

“Thank you, I have him now,” Nellie said to the groom, who appeared only too happy to relinquish his hold on the animal. She handled him well, Thomas noted, and the horse calmed instantly in her care.

His own groom appeared beside him with his thoroughbred stallion, a horse he’d won in a card game. It had been much prized by the original owner. Thomas had gladly taken the animal, mainly because of the fondness the gentleman had had for the mount. A sudden twang of guilt assaulted him. He pushed it away quickly.

Others started to arrive and the insistent sound of hounds barking made any attempts to engage in chatter almost impossible.

Nellie nodded to her groom and he came around, assisting her to mount. Thomas followed her lead and mounted his own hack, settling in the softness of his well-worn saddle.

“I believe I will ride by you today, my Lady.”

Nellie gazed over her shoulder towards the other riders and looked around slightly before returning her attention to him. “Are you talking to me, my Lord?”

His lips curved slightly in amusement. “I believe so.”

She looked around again, her gaze lingering on the other ladies suiting up to ride, some of whom smiled when they caught Thomas’ eye. He gave a nod in acknowledgement and looked back towards Lady Nellie.

“I have been graced with your presence as you are a guest in my home, so should you not grace the other eager ladies with your company, my Lord? I would hate to feel I have monopolised all your time,” she said with an insincere smile.

Thomas laughed—he could not help it. “My lady, I assure you, I am more than willing to allow you to monopolise me in any way you wish.”

She seemed unimpressed, her eyebrow rising slightly. “Well, lucky me, my Lord. I do fear the other ladies will feel my glee from here.”

He chuckled again at her biting tone. “I am sure they can, my Lady. I am sure they can.”

* * * *

Geist galloped through the open field, his strong legs eating up the distance, but Nellie was quick to rein him in as the bordering forest came up before them. The hounds were still a fair way ahead and that was how she preferred it. She cared little for the hunt itself, but loved being in the saddle and paired with Geist. She could think of nothing better.

The marquess had been true to his word, riding with her at the back of the pack. She had tried to ignore him, but how could she? He was a man whose mere presence had her core dripping with lust and had her grinding herself against the horn of her saddle. And all that did was arouse her further.
Blast him for his good looks and infuriating charm!

His black stallion was taller than hers but of a lighter set, built for speed, not endurance like Geist. Nellie reluctantly looked over her shoulder when the sound of his horse’s hooves failed, and brought Geist around as she noticed Thomas stop and dismount, running his hand down the front of one of the horse’s legs. She instantly forgot her displeasure at his presence and worried for his animal.

“Is he well?” she asked, as she trotted up beside him.

The marquess looked up at her and gave a sad smile. “He stumbled a moment ago and is now limping on it. I fear it is already swelling.”

She looked down at the horse’s legs and compared them. He was right—the leg had already swollen. “We need to get him back to your groom.”

“Yes,” he agreed, and turned the horse around so he could head back in the direction of the keep on foot. The ground was muddy, though, from the army of twenty-odd horses that had already trampled through.

“You will slip and fall, then how are we to get you both back, limping and crying for your mothers? Here, give me his reins,” she said and held out her hand.

He huffed a laugh. “Cry for our mothers? Really, Nel? I would not have thought I portrayed the mother’s boy persona.”

Her brow dipped. “Nel?” While she liked it when her father addressed her as such, the endearment from this man’s lips did foreign things to her. She gave her hips a slight shift against the horn of her saddle, rubbing her core. It only increased the tingling.
Blast the man!

His lips curved into a grin. “Forgive me for taking liberties, but I think we can be familiar in private, and I insist you call me Thomas. ‘My Lord’, I have to admit, is becoming wearing from your lips,” he said, with a knowing look.

Nellie felt heat rise to her cheeks. Yes, she had used his title in a mocking tone and he had endured it. “Forgive me, but I do not feel I know you well enough to address you as such.”

“Then perhaps if we use this as a starting point, our friendship could only grow?”

She sighed at his words and gave a nod. Friendship, though, was not what she wanted from this man. She wanted nothing from him, nothing at all!

“Fine. Thomas, please pass me your steed’s reins.”

He smiled—pleased with her, it seemed—as he walked forward, sliding slightly in the caking mud. “Why do you need his reins, Nel?”

“I intend to hold them while you mount.”

His brow dipped. “The horse is lame, Nel.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I know, and that is why I shall hold him while you mount behind me. Geist can take both our weights easily.”

He blinked. “You wish me to ride with you? Share your stallion?”

“No, I do not wish it,” she all but snapped, trying to convince herself of that very thing. “But I do not want you breaking your neck either.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Nel, I did not know you cared.”

“I do not, but I also do not wish to trample through the mud to save your derriere when you slide down a slope or something else as befitting.”

“Such a kind-hearted lass.” He chuckled as he handed her the reins and swung himself up behind her.

Nellie inhaled a breath as he settled behind the saddle, gripping her hips, presumably to keep his balance. One leg moved up behind hers on the saddle. Geist shifted slightly but she distracted herself by cooing to him. He instantly settled.

“You have a way with the beast, Nel,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, right to her clenching core. He shifted closer and she felt a distinct hardness against her bottom.

Oh, my! What have I done?

She mentally shook her head and handed him his horse’s reins, urging her own steed into a slow walk and resisting the urge to rub against the horn of the saddle, if only mildly.

Thomas was becoming drunk on the intoxicating smell of wildflowers. Not from the surrounding forest, but from the smooth skin of the woman who sat before him. He wanted to lean forward, nuzzle into the softness of her flesh and inhale the sweet scent. Then he wanted to bite that skin and soothe it with his hungry tongue.

The rocking motion of her horse urged him closer towards her bottom with each step Geist took. Thomas’ hard cock rubbed against her and there was nothing he could do about it—nothing he
wanted
to do about it, anyway. He wanted her to know of his desire for her.

His mind moved to finding a bride. He needed a woman who would keep his attention, a woman who could be his equal in many ways and a woman he liked and could grow to care for. He knew Nellie could be all of those things. He could already picture her sleepy eyes looking up at him as he loved her awake in the early hours of the morning.

“Have you ever stayed in London, Nel?” he asked, picturing her sprawled out in his large bed, her brown hair fanned out against the cool white sheets.

She stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I simply wondered if you liked the
ton
. You visit for the season, do you not?”

She took a moment before answering, “For the last two years I have been in London for the season, but I prefer the country.”

He did not find that surprising. “I must admit I am coming to tire of the
ton
myself. The slower place of country life is much more appealing,” he commented. “Has any man tried to gain your favour?”

She turned slightly and gave him a weary look before returning her focus back to where they were travelling. He knew it was rude to ask as much, but he found himself waiting eagerly for the answer. And if there were men who sought her hand, why were none present at this hunt? Should they not seek to be in her presence when other eligible men were around?

“No. No man has sought my hand.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he muttered.

“Well, it is true, my Lord. Gentleman find it difficult to picture me as a wife.”

‘My Lord’
—she was cross with him again. Thomas frowned at her back. “And why is that?”

“Because I am opinionated and more trouble than I am worth. I believe those were Lord Chamberlin’s exact words last spring.”

“Well, rest assured, he is not only a fool at cards and business, he also appears to be a fool and a poor judge when it comes to women. I can think of nothing duller than a woman who agreed with me every moment of the day. How trivial the conversations would be.”

Again, she looked over her shoulder at him with a furrowed brow. “I would have thought much the same, yet it appears that is the type of bride most men seek.”

“I am a man, and trust me when I say that is not what I seek.”

He watched her gaze stray to his lips as that very mouth curved into a smile. She studied them for a moment longer, then she sighed and turned to face forwards. He wondered at the sigh, but shifted closer still against her bottom. Was she as aroused as he? Thomas’ cock twitched at the thought.

He had heard that the horn on a woman’s saddle could provide stimulation if a woman pressed herself forward into it. He noted how far forward she was in the saddle and almost groaned. She did indeed! She pleasured herself!

Thomas rolled his hips, rubbing his hard cock against her. Resting his arms at her sides now, he slowly hitched up the outside of her skirts ever so slightly with one hand. Her breathing deepened as his fingers ascended the fabric at the base of her calves. He let his other hand come to rest upon her waist, his chest now flush with her back. Not even a hair’s breadth of space separated them and the divine thing was, she didn’t protest. He could almost hear the battle going on in her mind, but still, she didn’t gripe. She wanted him. It was a satisfying thought.

“What is it you look for in a husband?” he whispered in her ear.

Her breathing hitched and she stumbled over her words. “I… A lady is… We are supposed to seek a place befitting our station.”

He smiled and dipped his face closer to her skin, inhaling. “Yes, but what do
you
want?”

“A man who will love me.”

Thomas paused. This was what all women wanted, but the way she’d said it, with feeling and meaning in her tone, said more.

“And you have found none that you could grow to love?” he asked.

She swallowed, then he heard her exhale. “I… No. None care for me to be myself. I could never marry a man who does not like what I think, or at least understand that I will not always agree with him, nor the fact I will have no hesitation in telling him so.”

He smiled. “Then I think you have been very smart indeed. You deserve no less in a husband.”

The sounds of celebration and the barking of the hounds signalled to them that they would be soon be descending on the manor and that the hunt had been fruitful. As they cleared the river and climbed the bank—slowly, so as not to cause Thomas’ stallion further injury—the building emerged through the oaks. Thomas, though, could not draw his attention away from the gentle movement of her bottom against his rigid cock as the stallion below them gained on the manor. He wanted to grind into her, reach around and palm her breast, but he did not think she would allow this. She was not like other women he had known. She was special, and he did not want to take advantage. What an odd realisation.