Ripe for Pleasure (13 page)

“Your what?”

Leo chuckled, the sound rumbling through her. “My Tintagel. My Tower of London. Occasionally even my Nottingham Castle.” He
turned and sat beside her, gazing out over the field and stream. “No, to be truthful, it was my brother’s Nottingham.”

“Did your father build it here for you?”

“No, my grandfather built it for my grandmother, but she shared it with us, along with stories of King Arthur, Robin Hood,
Cú Chulainn—all the myths and legends that Father and Mother eschewed in favor of truth and history.”

“But the stories are so much more satisfying, aren’t they?”

Leo nodded, still playing with the leaf. “More happy endings anyway. Good wins over evil. Right triumphs in
the end…” His voice trailed off, and he tossed the leaf over the edge.

Viola watched the leaf spiral down until it disappeared into the climbing roses that girded the tower’s base. “It’s a beautiful
folly. It must have taken quite an effort to create it.”

He ground a weed under the toe of his boot. “It’s a miniature version of the ruins of Kirby Muxloe. Grandmother loved the
place. It’s only a few miles off. I should take you to see it. We could ride over tomorrow if the weather stays fine.”

“I don’t ride.”

Leo shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “Honestly?”

Viola shook her head and shrugged one shoulder, wishing madly that she did ride. “This is the first time I’ve ever been to
a country estate. Not much call to ride in town.”

“You can’t always have lived in London?” He looked shocked. As though he couldn’t fathom the idea of being born and bred in
a city.

“No, but I’ve never lived in the country. A sedan chair is a simpler, and cheaper, option regardless of what city one is in.”

“Not ride.” He turned the concept over, his brows drawn up in disbelief. His eyes took on a familiar spark of devilment. “Well,
that will have to be fixed, and what better time and place than this?”

“Oh, nooooo…” She let the word drag out as uncertainty washed over her. “Thank you very much, but—”

“You aren’t afraid, are you?” His eyes were still danc
ing. “The divine Mrs. Whedon, not ride? It’s an outrage. For heaven’s sake, think of my reputation if you’ve no concern for
your own! Lord Leonidas Vaughn, Corinthian, owner of Dyrham, breeder of some of the most sought-after hunters in all of England,
to have a mistress who
doesn’t ride
? I’ll be a laughingstock.”

His feigned outrage set her laughing until she had to place one hand across her stomach, afraid she’d burst her stays like
the subject of some rude cartoon.

“You see, even
you
find it ridiculous.” His blue eye had taken on the teasing nature of his green one.

Viola gasped for air and blew out a long breath. He was going to wheedle and tease until he got his way. She was done for.
“Have you ever taught a woman to ride? Do you even have a lady’s saddle here? And what am I to wear for this adventure? I’ve
no habit, and I’m certainly not going to attempt to learn in this.” She waved one hand to encompass her simple
Chemise a la Rein.

“No, I’ve never taught a woman to ride, but I was present when my sister learned.” He ticked off one finger. “Yes, we have
several ladies’ saddles here, as all the women in my family ride.” Another finger bent to his accounting. “Also in consequence
of which, I’d be willing to wager that at least one of them has left behind a habit or two you can make use of—and no, you
certainly shouldn’t make the attempt to learn in that wisp of a gown.” He made a sweeping flourish with the hand upon which
he’d just counted off his points.

Viola wrinkled her nose. “But I’m not your mistress. You said so yourself. So my lack of equestrian skill shouldn’t matter
in the least.”

Leo gave a shout of laughter. “Minx. You’re not getting off that easily. Are you afraid of horses?”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of the horse itself; it’s the fall.”

“Then don’t fall.” He looked perfectly serious. As though it were really that simple.

“
You
perch five feet off the ground, clinging to a scrap of leather with your knees while the animal it’s attached to moves of
its own accord, and
then
we’ll talk about not falling.”

“Is that a wager?”

Viola narrowed her eyes. “Is what a wager?”

“If I can ride sidesaddle, you’ll learn?” His slow grin set off a burning sense of indignation deep in her chest. If he didn’t
already know for a fact he could do it—and she was almost certain he did!—he wasn’t the least bit worried about attempting
it.

“If you can do it
just as I’ll have to,
I’ll attempt it,” she agreed. He wasn’t the only one who could turn a situation to his favor.

A sudden crease appeared between his brows. She saw comprehension flare, followed by amusement and something indefinable that
must be whatever it was that prompted men to wager on everything from raindrops racing down a windowpane to who could seduce
the latest ballet dancer.

“You mean to put me in skirts, do you, vixen?”

“I do, my lord. I should have to wear them after all.”

“What if I put you in breeches instead? You wouldn’t be the first. Doesn’t Mrs. Bing make a spectacle of herself in them regularly?”

Viola shrugged. “Either way, my lord. Me in breeches or you in skirts.”

Leo grinned evilly. “I think I rather like the idea of you running around in breeches. Such a lovely view of your otherwise
hidden charms… but for now, let me show you something you’ll like far more than the folly.”

“It’s hard to imagine that the estate has anything more beautiful than this view to offer.” She pushed herself off the wall
and turned her full attention to the vista that spread out from the tower. Rolling hills, speckled with sheep. A group of
thatched cottages in the distance. Dense woods beyond them and the gleam of flowing water twisting through it all.

“You’re correct. The view couldn’t possibly be more beautiful.” His voice brought her back to the fact that he was staring
at her, not the landscape, as he spoke. “But you’ll like my surprise all the same.”

She eyed him warily. He looked too pleased with himself to trust him entirely.

“Come.” Leo held out his hand. She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to lead her down the stairs. The warm leather
of his gloves slid against her naked hands with a seductive softness. She forced herself to ignore the sensation and the thrill
that coursed down her spine. When they reached the bottom, he caught her about the waist and pressed in for a kiss.

His mouth met hers with an urgency that belied how lightly he held her. Viola sagged back against the stone wall for support
and Leo followed, hands splayed out beside her, caging her in.

He moved to her jaw, traced a searing path to her ear,
sucked hard on the sensitive spot where neck and jaw met. Her hands crept inside his coat, slid around to his back, sliding
between the layers of silk with ease.

She—they!—were going to ruin her dress, and she couldn’t find it in herself to give a damn. A gown was a small price to pay.
The knowledge that he was every bit as susceptible, every bit as powerless, was priceless.

CHAPTER 13

L
eo broke off the kiss as Viola’s dog nudged into them with her head, knocking him off balance. Pen sneezed, blowing petals
off the roses, and grinned up at him. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, spilling from beneath an impressive display
of teeth.

Leo steadied his hand, flexing it against Viola’s tightly corseted waist. “You’re a damn inconvenient beast,” he said to the
dog. Her grin widened, and she rocked back and forth on her front paws. He reluctantly stepped back from Viola, taking her
hand and pulling her along toward his horse.

“Tell me again why you insisted on keeping her?”

Viola shook her head, tossing her loose curls away from her face. One curl slid back, and she tucked it behind her ear. “Because
she needed rescuing, and you can’t tell me, in this of all settings, that you don’t know a damsel in distress when you see
one.”

A frown pulled at Leo’s mouth. He forced a smile instead. This entire trip to Dyrham was nothing but a
ruse. A fantasy. The fact that she thought him a hero ate at him like a canker. At least his conscience was clear where the
dog was concerned. “Take your shoes off and dip your toes in the water.”

“What? Why?” She didn’t look as though she trusted him in the slightest. Somewhere deep down, her instincts were correct,
but not in this instance.

Leo shook his head. “It’s a surprise.” She narrowed her eyes and shot him a quizzical glance. Her hair, gloriously loose,
swung around her shoulders, tips bouncing about her hips. “Trust me. It’s one of the best parts of Dyrham.”

She rolled her eyes, but stripped off her shoes and stockings all the same. Naked, familiar feet padded through the grass.
She gathered up her skirts, exposing limbs like those of a statue, long, beautifully molded, and pale, save for the love bite
he’d left just above the inside of her knee.

She stepped carefully off the bank, toes disappearing into the water. “It’s warm.” She twirled about, eyes wide enough for
him to drown in, lips parted in surprise. The hem of her skirts trailed in the water as she waded in.

“There’s a hot spring on the estate. If you look upstream, you’ll see the real surprise. It’s a bathhouse. You’ll never be
satisfied with a tub in your room again.”

Water spilled from a stone pool into an enormous soaking tub before swirling away down a sluice and out of the building. Steam
rose off the pool’s surface. Light poured in from the glass roof. Viola sat on the pool’s edge, skirts damp and filmy, clinging
to her thighs, feet dangling in the water.

“If I owned this, I’d never leave.” She splashed her feet in the water, sending waves sloshing over the edge and into the
tub. “I’d put a bed in one corner and a table in the other and I’d live right here.”

“Like a sultana in a harem?”

“Why not.” Viola sighed and stretched her neck, face going soft and dreamy. “I don’t think I can imagine anything more wonderful
than endless, everlasting hot water.” She pulled her feet from the water and stood. The wet linen of her skirts plastered
itself to her legs. Leo swallowed hard. Why was something almost visible infinitely more alluring than something fully exposed?
He’d seen her naked, but somehow this was far more exciting.

“Stay and enjoy it then. I’ll send your maid.”

Her brow furrowed, and her lips compressed into what he was coming to recognize as her secret smile. “Only if you’d rather
not
join me, my lord.” She tilted her head, chin raised just enough to emphasize the challenge in her declaration.

Leo grinned. She did so like to have the upper hand. Almost as much as he did. “Not today, my dear. Today—though it breaks
my heart to say so—I have a meeting about a horse. But we’ll have plenty of time to play the sultan and the concubine while
we’re at Dyrham. In fact, while I’m gone, you can pick out a spot for that divan. But for now”—he pulled his watch from his
pocket and thumbed it open—“yes, for now, I really must leave you to your own devices.”

Leo sketched a small bow and strode out of the bathhouse. Viola was clearly not pleased. For a woman who had made her living
pleasing men, she apparently had
little skill masking her anger. It was possible that none of her former protectors had ever provoked her, but—knowing his
own kind as he did—that seemed unlikely. Perhaps it had been the other way around, and they’d been the ones who made every
effort to please? Having one of her select set in keeping was considered something to brag about. Losing such a woman was
certainly an embarrassment.

Viola’s dog raised her head as Leo emerged from the bathhouse. She gave him a long, penetrating look before laying her head
back down upon her paws with a protracted and almost artfully woeful sigh. Whatever inconveniences might arise from her adoption,
at least he need never worry that his cousin could slip in unnoticed. Pen had clearly set herself the task of guarding her
mistress, so Charles would never get past her.