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him.
It was a compliment, or she thought that it was, though she could barely think
at all. "Shall we go on?" she whispered.
    "As riding
partners?" he returned.
    "R-riding
partners?" she stammered, unable to believe her good fortune and not quite
understanding him. "D-do you like hunting too?"
    He stepped closer to
her, taking her other hand. Nicole's eyes widened. His grip upon her palms was
hard. She could not have moved away from him if she had wanted to— which she
didn't.
    "Not until
today," he said harshly. "Just how good a rider are you,
Nicole?"
    Nicole could no longer
think. He was reeling her into his arms, and she knew— she just knew —that
he was going to kiss her. "V-very good," she whispered.
    "I imagine you are
superb," he said. His hands slid up to her elbows and their bodies
touched.
    Nicole had never been
kissed before. In fact, she had never imagined what could possibly be appealing
about a man covering your mouth with his—until last night. Last night she had
dreamed of his kisses, wondering endlessly and shamelessly what it would be
like, and now, dear God, she was about to find out.
    "The time for
pretense is over," he said. "I want you, Nicole. I want you very
much."
    Nicole could barely
believe what she was hearing. Their thighs touched, her breasts brushed his
shirtfront. And then his mouth covered hers, the kiss slow, gentle and
delicate.
    Rapturous longing filled
Nicole as his mouth teased and seduced her. She strained against him, her ardor
natural and even innocent, and his hands instantly tightened, nearly hurting
her. The pressure of his lips suddenly changed, and he was devouring her.
    Nicole gasped, pressed
against him from toe to breast, his arms locked around her. His mouth was
fierce, nearly brutal, demanding instant surrender. She opened for him and was
shocked when his tongue thrust into her mouth. He pillaged there, while she was
swept away by hot desire.
    Filled with a sudden,
desperate need, she touched her tongue to his. His response was instantaneous.
He groaned, his hands moving down to her buttocks, grasping them firmly,
lifting her up against the long, hard shaft of his manhood. Hungrily, shaking
in. his arms, Nicole began to fence with him. She was clutching the folds of
his shirt, clinging, and pressing herself wildly against him.
    Abruptly he laid her in
the grass by the stream and covered her body with his. As he settled himself on
top of her, his massive manhood against her loins, Nicole cried out in
desperate, dazed pleasure. She felt him tugging up her skirts while she arched
against him.
    "Soon,
Nicole," he rasped, "soon, I promise you, I will give you everything
you want; I will ride you as you've never been ridden before ..."
    Nicole could barely
think as his hand slid over her thinly clad knee, beneath her skirts and
petticoats, then over her thigh. He moved his mouth to her neck, and she
shifted, moaning, a stone abruptly digging into the back of her head. Her eyes
flew open and sanity hit her full force. She was lying on her back, half in the
grass and half in the dirt, and the Duke of Clayborough was treating her the
way no lady should ever be treated.
    She did not want him to
stop. Even as her mind cried out a fierce warning, her hands dug into the
thick, long tawny hair at his nape. Even as she knew she must not continue this
endeavor, she moaned and thrashed as he stroked high up on the insides of her
thighs, only the thin cotton of her lace drawers between her flesh and his. His
hands came up and he began to unsnap the frogs of her riding jacket. This was
the Duke of Clayborough, she managed to think frantically, and she wanted not
just to make a good impression, but to be his wife.
    That need was more
compelling than any other need, and she grasped his wrists to stop him, crying
out. "No, please! Not like this!"
    Instantly he became
still. He did not move for a heartbeat, but the moment was one of respite.
Despite the delicious agony her body was in, despite