Taste of the Devil (10 page)

When they went outside, she was relieved to see his stallion. Good. They would be riding, then. The groom brought her mare around for her to mount.

“Would you like a leg up?” A warm, husky breath teased at her nape.

Flustered, she spun around to look up at him. “N–

no, thank you. I can do it myself. I’ve been mounting for years.”

The man’s lips twitched with amusement. “Have you really? And here I thought I would have to teach you how to mount.”

What a silly man! Did he not know that country estates usually had very good stables? What did he think she had been doing all these years? “I can assure you I ride very well.”

A dimple appeared in his left cheek. “I have no doubt you do, my lady.”

They set out over the verdant rolling land at a moderate pace.

It didn’t take long for Ginny to get caught up in the beauty of the day. There was a slight breeze pleasantly wafting at the curls in her hair. Birds were chirping cheerfully away. Flowers were in bloom everywhere, and the scent of English lavender filled the air. Altogether, it was a perfectly lovely day.

As long as she discounted her horse trying to nip her leg every ten minutes. Must be a long-lost relative of Uncle Jediah’s, she mused.

They rode along in companionable silence.

Every now and then Tyler’s glance would stray towards Ginny.

The lady seats a horse well...

Occasionally, he let his stallion fall back a step or two just for the pleasure of watching her pert little rump bounce with the stride of the horse. Now that was an enticing view.

Her horse again tried to nip at her; she rapped its nose smartly with her riding crop.

By God, that was making him damned hot.

When they came upon a picturesque vale with a gurgling stream and a large shade tree, he called a sudden halt. “I’m getting hungry, my lady, aren’t you?”

Ginny glanced at him over her shoulder. Lord Devon’s catlike eyes held a familiar, mysterious gleam.

It rather reminded Ginny of Charles just before he pounced. She frowned.

Not waiting for a reply, Tyler dismounted and grabbed the picnic basket tied to the back of his saddle.

Without looking up, he addressed his companion. “I would offer you a hand down, but since you have assured me you are so well accomplished, I can only surmise you wish to go it alone.”

Mounting a horse with a groom holding the reins was one thing. Dismounting without assistance was quite another. Even if she tried to jump off, she knew from experience this horse would likely get a good nip on her. Not wanting to admit her disadvantage, she remained stubbornly seated.

Tyler strolled over to the base of the tree and spread a blanket underneath. Sitting down in the cool shade, seemingly oblivious to Ginny still astride her mare, he opened the wicker basket and started to remove its contents. Two crystal goblets, a bottle of wine, some cold chicken, flaky rolls, a cold salad, and... Fresh raspberries.

Ginny’s stomach rumbled. She hoped she didn’t lick her lips. Raspberries were a particular favorite of hers.

And she was quite hungry, having foregone breakfast.

Nonchalantly, Tyler grabbed a chicken leg and took a healthy bite out of it. His knowing glance flicked to her over the hunk of meat.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” He drawled.

The man was annoying beyond belief. Ginny lost her temper. “Damn and blast, Tyler Devon, you know I can’t get off this grouchy horse!”

Putting the chicken leg down, he took his time getting up off the blanket. Slowly, he approached her, amusement evident with every step. “All you had to do was ask, sweet.”

Before she realized what he was about, he boldly lifted her out of the saddle and carried her over to the blanket.

Where he not so gently deposited her.

“Ow!” Ginny rubbed her backside. “Why ever did you just let me go?”

He joined her on the blanket, coming close. “Oh, so you don’t wish me to let you go?” He gathered her in his arms again.

She pushed at the broad shoulders. Odd. For a man who spent all his hours in leisure pursuits, his grip was akin to iron. “Don’t be an oaf! Of course, I wanted you to let me go– only not so hard.”

“Now that’s a first.”

“What is?”

Tyler’s mouth curved in a sensual way. “I can’t recall hearing a female ever asking me to not be so hard.”

Ginny brushed at her skirt in an attempt to smooth it out. “Well I can’t imagine why, if you throw them all around like that.”

The entendre had simply passed her by. Her innocent, if annoyed response was very engaging. Tyler’s regard was warm. “You know, you really are a very sweet girl.”

Ginny gaped at him as she removed her hat.

“Whatever are you talking about? Sometimes, Lord Devon, I wonder at your meaning.” She screwed her face up at him. “Is there, perchance, madness in your family?”

Tyler roared with laughter, falling over onto the blanket.

Worried, Ginny bent over him. “I fear there is.”

His laughing eyes gazed up at her. “Whatever runs in my family, my dear, I can assure you, it is not insanity.” Excessive lustiness, perhaps, but definitely not madness. He grinned up at her revealing perfect white teeth.

Ginny regarded him skeptically.

A muscular arm casually reached up behind her shoulder. In the blink of an eye, the ribbon which held back her hair was quickly removed. The released strands immediately tumbled about her face.

Ginny was not happy. “Why did you do that?”

Strong fingers lightly brushed the luxuriant texture of the long hair. “Looks better this way.” He brushed a lock across his lips. “Feels better, too.”

“Is that so?”

Before he could reply, she leaned fully over him, her fingers flying quickly to the back of his neck. They reappeared triumphantly dangling a thin black ribbon.

Ginny grinned down at him and arched a delicate brow in challenge.

“Mmm, I somehow see where this is going,” he drawled.

“Yes, you’re right, it’s not loose enough yet.” Ginny practically sprawled on top of him as she delved her fingers through his thick mane, completely mussing it up.

She sat back to survey her handy work.

The rogue quirked a black eyebrow back at her. He’d killed men for less.

“Yes, I think it looks better that way, my lord.” She laughed as his hair flew out in every direction. “I wager it feels better, too.”

Tyler sat up. “Well, it certainly felt better while you were doing it.”

Ginny’s face flamed as she realized the impropriety of what she had just done. Her hand went to her mouth. “I–

I’m sorry, sir. I sometimes do things without thinking first.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

Ginny sighed. “You can’t imagine the trouble it gets me into.”

“I have a very good imagination.”

“But sometimes, when you don’t think about things... they turn out quite interesting.” She bit her lip as she warily glanced at him. “Don’t you agree?”

Her earnest expression tugged at a heart he thought long dead. He sucked in his breath as a new kind of heat smoldered inside him. “Yes, I do, Ginny,” he whispered.

“Sometimes, ‘tis best not to think at all.” Unable to help himself, he leaned towards her.

“I’m so glad you feel that way!” She abruptly turned to the food, foraging for a piece of chicken.

Tyler blinked.

What the hell had just happened? Good lord, was he losing his touch?

He peered at Ginny as if she were a strange new specimen of womanhood. A specimen that did not proceed down the proper path of seduction.

He was somewhat vexed.

She, on the other hand, glanced over at him in artless delight to merrily inform him that the chicken was delicious.

A slight throbbing developed around the region of his temples. He needed a drink.

So they ate their meal enjoying the scenery along with the bottle of wine. Ginny, not used to drinking more than a half glass at dinner, became pleasantly relaxed.

Leaning back on her elbows, she dreamily surveyed the stream. The clear water looked refreshing and cool.

She sighed wistfully. “I would so like to take off these riding boots and wade in the stream.”

Regarding her over the rim of his wineglass, Tyler more than suspected that the alcohol was mellowing any reservations she might have. He grinned slyly at her.

“Then why don’t you, my lady? ‘Tis a warm afternoon, for sure.”

Her reply was measured. “I’m not at all certain that it would be proper.”

He shrugged. “Who is to say? Surely, you don’t think I would tell anyone of your terrible lapse of propriety should you wade in the stream with bare feet.” His eyes danced with amusement. “This Lord Devon– the model of societal decorum?” He winked at her engagingly.

She chuckled. “It does sound rather silly, doesn’t it?”

Especially since I first met you in your undergarments.

He quickly reached over and grabbed her foot. “Which part is silly, eh? Your removing that boot or me giving a damn about society’s mores?”

“Tyler!” Ginny yelped.

It was the first time she had said his name, and he rather liked the way it sounded on her lips. Unrepentant as ever, he tugged at the laces on the riding boot. “I’m going to lead you down the path of ruin by helping you remove these freedom obstacles in the form of boots.”

“That would be rather bad form of you.”

He gave her a small grin. “’Tis my nature to be wicked; ask anyone.”

“Oh, I never had a doubt of it.” Ginny tried to scoot away; he held fast.

“I can assure you, should word get out that you actually waded in the stream in front of me before we wed– why, you would never be able to show your feet in public again.” His sensual lips quirked. “At least not in polite society.”

His words had the proper effect. Ginny laughed as she leaned back on her elbows. She never knew a rakehell could be so deemed entertaining.

Taking that laugh as agreement, Tyler immediately tugged off her boot. Then his experienced hands skimmed up under her dress to quickly undo her garters.

Ginny gasped as she tried to bolt upright. “What are you–”

“Shh. You can’t go wading with your stockings on, now can you?”

Warily, she bit her lip.

He took the opportunity to roll the silk stocking down her calf; his fingers gliding along the smooth, bare skin. His experience with women being what it was, he had an exact image of the shapely leg just from the touch of his fingers.

Tossing the stocking over his shoulder, he turned his attention to the other foot. In no time, the second stocking was tossed over his shoulder as well. The trim ankle, he kept a firm grip on.

Ginny tugged at her trapped foot. “Give it up, Tyler.”

He ignored the plea, and ran a long index finger down her instep. Ginny flinched at the stimulating sensation.

It did not go unnoticed by Tyler. “This is a very interesting foot, my lady.”

Ginny blinked. Interesting? “How can a foot be interesting?”

“Oh... many ways. For instance, these are the most winsome toes I’ve ever encountered.” He brushed his well-formed fingers lightly across the little pads.

It was ticklish. But he looked beautiful doing it.

Ginny didn’t know whether to giggle or pant. ‘Twas a most peculiar feeling. “I– I think they look rather silly.”

“Never, my lady.” He grinned at her, showing an alluring flash of white teeth.

Ginny wiggled the toes of her captured foot.

“My word, they beckon me.”

Ginny pealed in laughter as he swooped down and firmly caught the pad of her big toe between those strong teeth.

Why, it feels so...! Um, ah–

Suddenly Ginny wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Stop teasing, Lord Devon. Let me up!”

He did release her, but not before playfully tickling the bottom of her foot. Those that truly knew him would never believe it.

Ginny sprang up, glaring at him. “What a ridiculous thing to do!” Annoyed at him, she stomped off, heading down to the water.

Tyler’s knowing glance followed her down to the streambed. He had heard the sharp intake of her breath, had felt the slight tremor at the touch of his teeth. She wasn’t angry; she was scared. He had aroused her.

He rubbed his jaw. Lady Thomlinson was a passionate woman and he was going to take pleasure in prodding that sensual streak in her. Indeed, he would test her limits until he damn well ignited a real fire in her.

When that time came, rogue that he was, he would oblige by helping her put it out. Again and again and again.

‘Twas a certain talent of his, although he had others.

Chapter Nine

When Ginny returned from the brook, Lord Devon was resting full length across the blanket.

“Cooled off?” he asked suggestively.

Ginny noted that the heavy-lidded expression was oddly challenging.

“Yes actually, the water was lovely.” She plopped down onto the blanket, her glance drifting over to the open basket. “We haven’t eaten our raspberries yet.” All but licking her lips, she snatched up the bowl of savory fruit.

Always a step ahead, Tyler’s quick mind devised a new way to vex her. So, she loved raspberries did she?

Obviously, a woman with superior taste.

He smoothly rolled over onto his side and plucked the bowl away from her. “No, we haven’t.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed ominously. “Aren’t you going to share?”

“I always split the booty,” he remarked obliquely.

“Ask anyone.”

That said, he took a berry between his fingers and held it out to her.

Ginny took the proffered bait, swallowing the sweet fruit.

Tyler popped a raspberry into his own mouth, but his gaze remained locked on her. He held the next berry against her lips. As he had predicted, the reds were almost identical. And just as luscious to the taste, he’d wager.

Ever-so-gently, he placed the sweet fruit on the tip of her tongue, letting his finger linger a moment on the full curve of her bottom lip.

Ginny stared at him, a worried expression marring her smooth forehead. He couldn’t be using the raspberries to attempt a seduc–