“Unacceptable.” He placed his knuckles underneath her chin and pushed it up, forced her to meet his gaze. “Repeat after me, Freddy. I am talented.”
She shook her head. “Though I find it soothing, I cannot even knit. You know so. I’ve showed you my attempts.”
“I have, and I want you to make me something. All the somethings. If you make a hat, I’ll wear it. Gloves too. Please do provide a scarf.”
“None of them will fit, and they’ll only barely resemble what they are meant to be.”
“I’ll wear them anyway. And in the meantime, we’ll find you other tricks to try.” He held an arm out toward the mare.
“I can ride.”
“I know you can.”
She ventured toward the horse, reached a hand out, and stroked fingers down the mane.
“Lucky horse,” he said.
She chuckled. “Should I stroke my hand down your mane?”
“God, yes. But not right now. We’re busy. Do stop trying to distract me with your wicked seductions. Mount.”
“It’s not sidesaddle.”
“No, it’s not sidesaddle. You cannot stand on a horse with a sidesaddle.”
“You want me to … to stand on the horse?” She shook her head, back away.
He pressed his body into her, crowded her forward with slow, strong steps. “Different horses are bred for this sort of thing so that they are stronger, shorter, stouter.”
“Bred specifically for circus performance?”
“Perhaps not specifically. It’s more accurate to say that Mr. Garrison selects and buys the ones that are that way. Better for balance, better for support. Come along.” He held his arms out, wiggled his fingers at her then dropped his gaze to her hem and frowned. “Wait.” He dropped to his knee, took the hem in his fingers, a fine linen but weak. As all fine linens usually were. He lifted his face to her, and he wore his wickedest grin. “Do I have permission to ravish you just a bit? Only a bit. For now. Just to get things started for later.”
“Please do.” One last time, excitement should tingle through her. She studied the lines of his face in sorrow, instead. She would miss him. She wanted to press both hands to her heart to keep it from breaking, shattering into uncountable pieces. Had she gone too far already? She’d thought to end this before pain ripped her to bits.
“Excellent.” He clutched the hem of her gown in both hands and pulled.
Rip.
She shrieked, a sound half laugh that rose to the rafters.
He stood and dusted his hands off. “Oh wait.” He ducked down again, grabbed the hem of her shift this time and ripped it, too.
She gasped again, stuck her leg out, blushing to see the long line of it slipping between the torn panels of fabric. Her plain white stocking gave a soft glow in the muted light of the amphitheatre.
Kneeling on one knee, his head bent, his gold-burnished hair offered to her, he resembled a knight of old, pledging everything to his queen. She pushed his hair behind one ear, and his head whipped up.
He wore a feral wildness on his face. The charming rogue entirely wiped away to reveal the needy animal inside. His hand wrapped around her ankle, moved up to caress her calf then glided higher until it rested on the line between skin and stocking. All the while, he pinned her with his gaze, his hungry eyes devouring, promising. His warm, large hand offering a glimpse of pleasures to come.
She bit her lip as his hand slipped from her leg and he stood.
“Hell,” he said, his voice raw. “You are temptation incarnate. I’m hard as a rock. Ha. And at the mere sight of a curvaceous leg and silk stockings, a little black garter keeping the stocking up high. A small-heeled slipper at the bottom, prim, proper, and horribly appealing.” He cupped a hand around her neck and pulled her body against his. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
She did. She felt the whole hard, long length of his desire, and it mirrored her own need—hard and … perhaps never-ending. Would she ever forget it? Or would it always run rampant through her, a rogue compulsion to touch him, to kiss him.
She breathed heavy, rested her head on his shoulder. “I thought you meant to ravish me only a little bit.”
“And that’s all I did. I’ll do no more. Not yet. But I want to. Damn me, I want to. Can barely control it.” He squeezed the hand wrapped around her neck, then stepped away, dragging in a deep breath and turning his face toward the dark-black of the rafters. “Very well. Let’s continue.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to the back of the horse.
