appeared at the connecting door to their chambers.
“I’m almost ready. I need to take off my stockings.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
Jocelyn beamed. “Let me blow out the candles.”
“Go and wait for me. I’ll take care of the candles.”
Jocelyn padded through the connecting door and sat on Leo’s bed. Leo followed her, mere seconds later, closing the door behind him. He prowled nearer in the way of a beast, yet she didn’t experience alarm. He blew out one of the two candles lighting his chamber, enclosing them in a bubble of intimacy.
“Why don’t you have a valet?”
“I did, but he ran away with one of the parlor maids. Stay right there,” he instructed, parting her legs a fraction so he could kneel comfortably in front of her.
Her breath caught, a warm glow suffusing her limbs. When she started to get dizzy, she gasped in air to combat her breathlessness.
Leo chuckled, his amusement bringing a wash of heat to her cheeks. “After he disappeared, I decided to do without a valet.”
“Oh.” It was difficult to concentrate with Leo’s fingers trailing over the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
“You like red stockings?”
“I like red, yet it’s difficult to find a shade of red that suits me.”
Amusement glowed in his dark eyes, the corners of his lips twitching a fraction as he reached for a lock of her hair and gently tugged. “Red is my new favorite color.”
“You are in a minority, I fear.”
“Their loss.” He released her hair to yank at her garter. Soon he was sliding woolen fabric down her calf. After a pause to place a kiss on the skin he revealed, he removed and tossed her stocking aside. Every inch of skin he touched turned tingly. His contact might be innocent, yet they both knew where this would lead. The other stocking followed the first. Leo stood and held out his hand to her. “Time to remove your chemise.”
Once she was naked, he swooped her off her feet and set her in the middle of the mattress. He dropped his robe on the floor, allowing her a glimpse of his muscular body and rampant erection before he blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness.
Clouds skittered across the night sky, obscuring the moon for long minutes before racing off again and allowing dull light to pierce the darkness. The faint sound of chanting carried on the breeze, low and harmonious and out of place in the moor.
The man stood on the hill, surveying the scene below, watching for oddities. Deep shadows, cast from the ruined abbey, made it difficult for him to survey the scene, but nothing odd captured his attention. When clouds drifted across the moon again, he made his way down the hill, leading his horse behind him. His cape swirled in the puffs of wind, and his footfalls remained cautious in the darkness.
A woman’s scream rang out. High and ear-piercing, it made the hair at the back of his neck rise. His mount danced a few steps, and he reached out to soothe the beast. “Steady, boy,” he said in a low voice.
He paused to listen and could discern only normal sounds of the night. As he neared, it was easier to see the outline of the ruins, left when Henry the Eighth had ordered many of the country’s monasteries destroyed.
The woman screamed again, and he frowned. They should have waited until they’d entered the secret crypt to start the ceremony. Anyone could hear her, and that was all they needed. One nosy person, a farmer tending his flock, and their sweet setup here at the abbey would cease.
Hastening his pace, he led his horse to the shelter of a lean-to. Disguised from public scrutiny, it already contained four horses. One nickered in welcome, and he covered his own horse’s muzzle with his hand in a sign for his mount to remain silent. He didn’t think anyone had followed him, but he had to take care to minimize the risk. After one final scan of his surroundings, he retrieved a candle from within the temporary stable. He lit the wick while
“I’m almost ready. I need to take off my stockings.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
Jocelyn beamed. “Let me blow out the candles.”
“Go and wait for me. I’ll take care of the candles.”
Jocelyn padded through the connecting door and sat on Leo’s bed. Leo followed her, mere seconds later, closing the door behind him. He prowled nearer in the way of a beast, yet she didn’t experience alarm. He blew out one of the two candles lighting his chamber, enclosing them in a bubble of intimacy.
“Why don’t you have a valet?”
“I did, but he ran away with one of the parlor maids. Stay right there,” he instructed, parting her legs a fraction so he could kneel comfortably in front of her.
Her breath caught, a warm glow suffusing her limbs. When she started to get dizzy, she gasped in air to combat her breathlessness.
Leo chuckled, his amusement bringing a wash of heat to her cheeks. “After he disappeared, I decided to do without a valet.”
“Oh.” It was difficult to concentrate with Leo’s fingers trailing over the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
“You like red stockings?”
“I like red, yet it’s difficult to find a shade of red that suits me.”
Amusement glowed in his dark eyes, the corners of his lips twitching a fraction as he reached for a lock of her hair and gently tugged. “Red is my new favorite color.”
“You are in a minority, I fear.”
“Their loss.” He released her hair to yank at her garter. Soon he was sliding woolen fabric down her calf. After a pause to place a kiss on the skin he revealed, he removed and tossed her stocking aside. Every inch of skin he touched turned tingly. His contact might be innocent, yet they both knew where this would lead. The other stocking followed the first. Leo stood and held out his hand to her. “Time to remove your chemise.”
Once she was naked, he swooped her off her feet and set her in the middle of the mattress. He dropped his robe on the floor, allowing her a glimpse of his muscular body and rampant erection before he blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness.
Clouds skittered across the night sky, obscuring the moon for long minutes before racing off again and allowing dull light to pierce the darkness. The faint sound of chanting carried on the breeze, low and harmonious and out of place in the moor.
The man stood on the hill, surveying the scene below, watching for oddities. Deep shadows, cast from the ruined abbey, made it difficult for him to survey the scene, but nothing odd captured his attention. When clouds drifted across the moon again, he made his way down the hill, leading his horse behind him. His cape swirled in the puffs of wind, and his footfalls remained cautious in the darkness.
A woman’s scream rang out. High and ear-piercing, it made the hair at the back of his neck rise. His mount danced a few steps, and he reached out to soothe the beast. “Steady, boy,” he said in a low voice.
He paused to listen and could discern only normal sounds of the night. As he neared, it was easier to see the outline of the ruins, left when Henry the Eighth had ordered many of the country’s monasteries destroyed.
The woman screamed again, and he frowned. They should have waited until they’d entered the secret crypt to start the ceremony. Anyone could hear her, and that was all they needed. One nosy person, a farmer tending his flock, and their sweet setup here at the abbey would cease.
Hastening his pace, he led his horse to the shelter of a lean-to. Disguised from public scrutiny, it already contained four horses. One nickered in welcome, and he covered his own horse’s muzzle with his hand in a sign for his mount to remain silent. He didn’t think anyone had followed him, but he had to take care to minimize the risk. After one final scan of his surroundings, he retrieved a candle from within the temporary stable. He lit the wick while
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