Ripe for Pleasure (17 page)

W
hen Leo returned to Dyrham, he found Viola confident enough in the saddle to join him on cross-country rides about the estate.
She was most comfortable at a trot, but she’d managed a canter on several occasions, and today she should get enough practice
in to master that gait, too.

They’d fallen into a schedule of sorts. She wrote all morning, they rode all afternoon, and then they made love all night,
sleeping only in fits and starts. She’d woken him from a dead sleep this morning with a hand wrapped around his cock.

She was going to be the death of him, but what a magnificent death it would be.

He reined Meteor in, while Oleander waded across the shallow streambed. Viola let the reins go slack, just as he’d instructed
her, then collected them again when they reached dry ground. Pen splashed through behind them and ambled off into the field,
snuffling in the tall grass as she went.

Viola glanced over at the folly and then back at him. “Is Kirby Muxloe really as magnificent as you say?”

“Why ask? You can judge for yourself shortly.” He urged Meteor forward, and Oleander fell into step beside him as they emerged
from the water.

“It’s just that I’ve never seen a castle.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. Never.”

“You’ve most certainly seen the Tower of London.”

“Well yes, but one hardly wants to count that.”

Leo chuckled. “And, pray tell, why not?”

Viola shrugged and flicked a large, trailing curl back off her shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s just so, so…”

“Large? Stony? Imposing?”

She laughed, and her dog woofled back, causing her to laugh again. “I don’t know. The Tower is just, well, it’s the Tower.
It’s impossible to imagine London without it. And a castle, well, a castle should be a hulking gray ruin, covered in lichen,
with the wind whistling through it like a ghost.”

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed in Kirby Muxloe. Apart from the ghost, it fits your description as though you’d already
been there.”

They rode across the field and pushed through a gap in the hedge and onto the road. Leo glanced up and down the deserted lane.
“Come on then. If we hurry, we can be home in time for dinner.”

Viola’s laughter drifted back as Oleander broke into a canter, and the two of them shot merrily down the lane. Pen took off
in pursuit, a cloud of dust rising from her churning paws. Leo watched them for a moment, some
thing like pride stirring in his chest. With a whoop, he set Meteor after them.

Their pace ate up the miles to the castle. Leo reined in Meteor. Beside him, Oleander slowed as well. “If you look there,
just beyond those trees, you’ll see the very top of Kirby Muxloe’s tower.” Viola straightened in the saddle, straining to
see. She shook her head, her face a moue of chagrin.

“Not to worry,” Leo assured her, “we’ll be there momentarily.”

As they emerged from the trees, she grinned like a child, a gurgle of delight breaking free. Leo grinned back, well able to
remember the first time his grandfather had brought him here.

In the middle of a large moat, the water smooth and dark, stood the earthworks for the base of a grand castle. All that remained
were a single tower and the large gatehouse. Viola reined in as they approached the remains of the bridge.

“Is it safe?”

“It’s not as old as it looks,” Leo responded. “Look below; the supporting timbers are enormous.”

He urged Meteor forward, and Oleander followed, their hooves loud as the battering ram of the Roundheads must have been. As
they passed through the wide, vaulted entrance, a hare burst across the open, grassy expanse that was all that was left of
the castle. Pen gave chase, her excited baying echoing off the stone walls of the gatehouse. The hare disappeared into a hole,
and Pen jammed her nose in after it and began to dig.

Leo leapt down and turned to help Viola from her
saddle. She kicked free and slid into his arms, the motion almost without thought now. She tugged away from him, as though
she were eager to explore.

“Not so quickly.” Leo tightened his grip.

Viola smiled up at him slyly, her arms sliding up his chest until she could clasp her hands at the back of his neck. “Yes,
my lord?”

Leo gave her a quick, hard kiss. He held on just long enough to feel her go pliant in his arms. When he broke it off, she
was still smiling. “Can we climb the tower?”

“Pick up your skirts, and we’ll go exploring.” She glanced at their mounts, worry pinching her brow momentarily. “The horses
will be fine here. Come on.” He held out his hand, and she took it, scooping up her skirts with her free hand.

“Is there a dungeon?”

Leo grinned. “Yes, but it’s under the tower, and it’s usually flooded. You’ll have to look elsewhere for your ghost.”

“This will do,” Viola said as they reached the entrance. Sunlight poured in through the remnants of a window. The sound of
wings filled the air as a small flock of starlings took flight and whizzed about the room.

Viola shuddered. “I don’t like starlings. I can’t explain it, but I just don’t like them. They look at you as though they’d
like to peck out your eyes.”

She shuddered again, and Leo bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the laugh attempting to work its way out of his chest.
What a thing to be afraid of: birds no bigger than your hand. “There are ravens nesting in the top. Shall we forgo the view
and make do with the gatehouse?”

“No, they don’t bother me the way starlings do. Ravens are honest in their greed. Almost playful. But there’s something deceitful
about a starling.”

Viola let go of Leo’s hand and hurried up the dark stairs. The only light came from tiny and very occasional arrow slits.
She didn’t so much as pause to gaze out of one, the urge to leave the birds behind too strong.

When she reached the ramparts, she pulled off her hat and turned her face up toward the sun. The breeze caught her hair and
sent it flying all about her face. She smiled as Leo stooped under the lintel. She knew she was being silly, but she couldn’t
help it.

Viola spun about to take in the full view. The ruins were amazing, marooned as they were like a private island in the middle
of the countryside. If she let her imagination wander, she could almost picture knights upon enormous destriers down in the
courtyard and ladies in flowing gowns and bejeweled hats gathered to watch them.

“It makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

“Small?” Leo looked lost.

“Well, maybe not
you.
But it makes
me
feel small. Once upon a time, this was someone’s home. That courtyard bustled with life. People worshipped in the chapel.
And now it’s just this. Empty and tumbling down around us.”

“Ah, now you’re getting deep and possibly maudlin. None of that. Today is for adventure.”

Leo pulled her along the wall. Her skirts slipped from her hand, and she tripped, legs hopelessly tangled. He caught her up
and tossed her over his shoulder. Laughing, he ran along the rampart until he reached the entrance to
the tower stairs. He ducked under as she squealed, her hat flying out of her hands and rolling away. He charged up the stairs,
emerging onto a large, circular battlement with her still balanced on his shoulder.

“There.” He set her on her feet. “Dragged through the castle like the spoils of war.”

Laughter bubbled up, causing her to gasp for breath. “So you’re the marauding knight? You’ve broken the castle’s defenses
and are now going to claim the lady of the castle as your own?”

“It’s a rather good idea, you must admit.”

“Must I?”

“I really think you must. It’s surrender or death, my lady.”

Viola turned her back to him, putting her hands on the parapet. “But isn’t an honorable death what any true lady would choose?”

“Ah, such a loss isn’t to be thought of.” He crowded her into the battlement, hands pushing her hair aside, mouth exploring
her neck. He’d been playing with her a moment before, but now their game had changed. She could feel herself pulled toward
him, an invisible wire strung tight and growing tighter still, like a violin being strung to the perfect pitch. Desire swamped
her, flooding out all concern for decorum.

“No?” She pressed back, hips circling.

“No, my lady.” His arms came around her, hands splayed out over her breasts. Even through her stays, she could feel his palm
scrape across her nipples.

His cock was hard against her. She pushed, and he thrust back. His hands slid down to her thighs, and her skirts rose like
the curtain at Drury Lane. The leather of
his gloves danced along her skin, the distinct edges of the seams trailing along her hip, moving across her belly, then down
between her thighs.

She gasped as he touched her. His knees nudged hers apart, and after a moment, his cock pressed for entrance. His circling
fingers urged her backward; the thrust of his hips as he pressed inside pushed her into his hand. She fought for breath, her
release carrying her away as assuredly as Leo had done only minutes before.

He pressed fully in, then stilled. Leo rested his forehead against the back of her head, his breath hot and unsteady on the
nape of her neck. “Any man who wouldn’t storm a castle for that isn’t a man at all.”

Viola tightened herself around him and pushed backward. She didn’t want slow and tender. She wanted the conquering knight.
His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in, hips rocking against her. She moaned, wanting more. Needing more. His weight
pinned her to the parapet; his cock filled her.

“Again. Come for me one more time.” His voice grated over her. His hand slid back around, pushing roughly between her thighs,
fingers riding hard against the swollen folds and the sensitive peak hidden between them.

She was gasping, pleasure sliding over into pain and back again, her release teetering just out of reach until it crashed
over her and her bones liquefied. Leo made a growling sound that rattled through her, and he pressed infinitesimally deeper
as he came.

“Good God, Vi.”

She attempted to move, but he held her fast.

A soft tremor rippled through her, and he made a guttural
sound in the back of his throat. “Whatever you do, don’t move just yet.” She pushed up, feeling the full weight of him. He
rubbed his cheek against her neck like a courting cat. “There’s nothing better than the throbbing, shuddering afterglow of
a woman’s release.”

“No?” Viola tipped her head, giving him the side of her neck to explore. He was wrong, but the particulars of why and how
weren’t something that could be explained.

His teeth slid lightly across her skin, and she let the thought go. It wasn’t any of her business that Lord Leonidas Vaughn
had never been in love.

CHAPTER 19

L
ight flooded through the mullioned windows of the parlor, bouncing off the Canaletto over the mantel, making the canals of
Venice appear to flow across the canvas. Viola stared at it for several minutes, letting her mind wander along streets she’d
only ever read about.

She shook off the daydream and returned to the task at hand. With a few precise stitches, she reattached a Dorset thread button
to Leo’s shirt cuff. It was amazing that they’d found it, lost among the sheets. The earbob she’d lost in the library was
still missing.

A sop to the gods or some such. A small price to pay for such pleasure, really.

She could have left the mending to Nance, but her poor maid had enough to do keeping up with the frequent damage to Viola’s
own wardrobe. Asking her to repair the rents and tears of Leo’s clothing as well would be too much.

Besides, Viola rather liked having something to do when Leo was gone for the afternoon. And this task allowed her
to play with the memories of just how that particular button had been torn from its cuff, or how a seam had been rent.

She set the repaired shirt aside and reached for the next one in her workbasket. Across the room, Pen stirred in her sleep,
feet twitching madly. Viola held the shirt up and turned it over in her hands, hunting for the damage. Ah, yes. This one’s
seam had given at the shoulder as he’d yanked it off just last night.