Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) by Jean Hart Stewart Page B

wonderful. But please take me up to bed now. Let me pleasure you anyway I can.”
    He hesitated a moment. His cock was pushing against his trousers so hard he hoped the seams didn’t split. He’d doubtless spurt all over the place if he taught her how to use her hands as he craved. But he didn’t want to set a pattern of letting her off the hook by a temporary relief. Nor did he have any illusions he could be in bed with her without plunging into her beautiful body.
    No, he hoped he’d given her a night’s rest. He had no illusions he’d get any sleep at all.
    * * * * *
     
    Lars said nothing but looked at her, the longing in his eyes accompanied by sorrowful determination. A determination as firm as the stone statue she’d admired. She feared she could never break his iron will.
    “Will you still teach me to ride?” Sophie blurted out the words, desperate to keep some kind of contact with the man she loved.
    “Of course. But that has no bearing on our situation. You already know I’ll always help you with anything bothering you.”
    Yet the path of revenge she’d chosen could easily get her killed. And anyone who helped her. She didn’t intend to put Lars in more danger. He was amazingly powerful, but he was not proof against a bullet or a sneak attack.
    She said nothing, longing for him but knowing she couldn’t commit to him until she’d avenged her father.
    It was a long moment before he spoke. “I won’t get angry again. And I won’t give up. In the meantime, I’ll tell my mother you need more time to get over your terrible experiences.”
    She nodded in agreement and he stared at her with desolate eyes and then walked away, closing the door softly behind him.
    Sophie waited a moment, then scurried to her room. She needed as much privacy as she could get. Tears were running down her cheeks, but she was in luck and saw no one. When she reached her room she threw herself on the bed, trying to control her sobs. Her weeping finally exhausted, she curled up to think of what to do next. How could she find her father’s murderer without involving Lars? He was so damned determined to protect her.
    She had no choice but to do this alone. She’d do anything to keep Lars safe. He might be an elf, a gorgeous and powerful elf, and wiser and stronger than a human. But he could still be shot from ambush or even poisoned.
    She’d not put him in danger again.
    But how could she exist without the pleasure of swiveling her hips on his powerful erection? And doing all the wonderful things he’d taught her? To bring them both to the screaming ecstasy she knew she’d never find with another man?
    * * * * *
     
    Sophie found the riding lessons a pleasure, even though Lars touched her as little as possible. He instructed one of the grooms to help her mount as he silently watched. Still, it gave her a chance to see him at more than the dinner hour. What he did all day she didn’t know, except for his piano playing. His skill was so pronounced, she noticed servants stopping in their duties with rapt expressions. Probably he spent some of his time catching up on the vast estate’s activities and tenants. She read a lot, chatted with the countess and counted the hours until the next riding lesson. At least she could touch him as he helped her dismount. He didn’t seem to want to delegate that task. That was of little help as he never took off his riding gloves until her feet touched the ground.
    And she polished her new theorem until she was certain it was a novel and even brilliant idea.
    Sophie knew her best chance to find Mallory would be in London. Since this wasn’t yet possible, perhaps she could track down the horrid villain from the ship. He might very well be on the lookout for her, especially if he had been sent by Mallory, the man she’d seen murder her father. And the black-bearded sailor might still be in the vicinity.
    That night at dinner she casually mentioned to the countess that she was woefully short