before gently kneading her bottom lip until she gasped, her lips parting slightly. One taste of unknown spices and delicious sunshine of her mouth and he wanted more. She tensed ever so lightly but as his tongue swept into her mouth with compelling eroticism, she went limp, melting into a sea of thick honeyed sensations.
The waiting groom coughed, pulling Victor up from his brief sojourn into the beckoning lure of her sensuality. He broke the kiss reluctantly. He had been afraid the potion she drank would inhibit his desire, if only by slowing hers. He saw now that he was wrong.
He gathered the reins and mounted. She stood perfectly still, which seemed like a miracle with the swirl of beautiful colors dancing abstractly through her dazed mind. A hand slowly reached to touch her lips, where she soothed the strange sensations. She wished he could kiss her again....
He bent over, his large hands circling her waist to lift her up in front of him. She instinctively grabbed his upper arms as he lifted her off her feet and to the saddle. Dizziness swirled in her head, and she steadied herself by laying her head against his chest. He checked the horse's dance, and then pulled her face up to his. She could feel the scrutiny of his gaze. "I find ... I am having a great deal of trouble thinking "
She smiled as she heard the warm sound of his laughter. "I don't believe I paid for your thoughts, much as I might want them." While he could prefer an unencumbered clear mind for the
pleasure, opium, he knew, could enhance a woman's pleasure, drawing it out and leaving it shimmering for hours. Hours would not be long enough for her. "Mary Devon, my beautiful changeling, intoxicated or no, just tell me, are you my willing victim?"
"Victim..." Her foggy mind seized the word. She brushed her hot cheek against his clean white shirt and breathed the delicious masculine scent of him. The sensation burst into colors in her mind, a swirling rainbow of pretty colors. "Oh, yes, I am...."
He started the horse forward and felt her tense slightly, her arms wrapping securely around his waist. "Have you never ridden a horse before?"
She tried to concentrate on the question. Horses. A sweet smile lifted on her lips. "I used to ride often when I was a child." She was speaking too slowly, but the thought disappeared as vivid scenes rose in her mind again, scenes of her father's daily riding lessons. For a long moment, she lost herself to the play of pretty pictures in her mind's eye. "My father wanted me to ride better than any boy in the parish. He used to tease me that ... that ... he would enter me in the parish race dressed as a boy, that I would win and as I stepped up to the winner's circle, he would remove my hat and show my face and end the argument that women can't ride . . . ride—" She stopped, realizing she was repeating herself. The idea brought confusion; she forgot what she was saying....
She felt as if she floated on a bright white cloud of sensation, heavy and dreamy. He found himself smiling down at her, his suspicions melting away beneath the lilt of her sudden ease and laughter.
"You have not always been blind?" She managed to shake her head. "When did it happen?"
She tried to remember. Why was it so hard to remember? Why was it so hard to think?
What was the question? "Oh, yes... seven years ago... when I was... thirteen. Like Mercedes..." The name echoed in mind.
"An accident?"
His question pulled her back and she nodded with a contented sigh as her finger circled a button on his shirt. She reached a timid hand to his face. Gently, light as a feather, her fingers traveled over the strong distinguished lines of his face, exploring the textures again. She touched his lips and traced the wide and sensuous lines there before touching her own lips and remembering his kiss. "I wish you would ... kiss me again."
Victor chuckled as his large warm hand brushed back her hair, his lips lightly grazing her forehead. "You know, I half
The waiting groom coughed, pulling Victor up from his brief sojourn into the beckoning lure of her sensuality. He broke the kiss reluctantly. He had been afraid the potion she drank would inhibit his desire, if only by slowing hers. He saw now that he was wrong.
He gathered the reins and mounted. She stood perfectly still, which seemed like a miracle with the swirl of beautiful colors dancing abstractly through her dazed mind. A hand slowly reached to touch her lips, where she soothed the strange sensations. She wished he could kiss her again....
He bent over, his large hands circling her waist to lift her up in front of him. She instinctively grabbed his upper arms as he lifted her off her feet and to the saddle. Dizziness swirled in her head, and she steadied herself by laying her head against his chest. He checked the horse's dance, and then pulled her face up to his. She could feel the scrutiny of his gaze. "I find ... I am having a great deal of trouble thinking "
She smiled as she heard the warm sound of his laughter. "I don't believe I paid for your thoughts, much as I might want them." While he could prefer an unencumbered clear mind for the
pleasure, opium, he knew, could enhance a woman's pleasure, drawing it out and leaving it shimmering for hours. Hours would not be long enough for her. "Mary Devon, my beautiful changeling, intoxicated or no, just tell me, are you my willing victim?"
"Victim..." Her foggy mind seized the word. She brushed her hot cheek against his clean white shirt and breathed the delicious masculine scent of him. The sensation burst into colors in her mind, a swirling rainbow of pretty colors. "Oh, yes, I am...."
He started the horse forward and felt her tense slightly, her arms wrapping securely around his waist. "Have you never ridden a horse before?"
She tried to concentrate on the question. Horses. A sweet smile lifted on her lips. "I used to ride often when I was a child." She was speaking too slowly, but the thought disappeared as vivid scenes rose in her mind again, scenes of her father's daily riding lessons. For a long moment, she lost herself to the play of pretty pictures in her mind's eye. "My father wanted me to ride better than any boy in the parish. He used to tease me that ... that ... he would enter me in the parish race dressed as a boy, that I would win and as I stepped up to the winner's circle, he would remove my hat and show my face and end the argument that women can't ride . . . ride—" She stopped, realizing she was repeating herself. The idea brought confusion; she forgot what she was saying....
She felt as if she floated on a bright white cloud of sensation, heavy and dreamy. He found himself smiling down at her, his suspicions melting away beneath the lilt of her sudden ease and laughter.
"You have not always been blind?" She managed to shake her head. "When did it happen?"
She tried to remember. Why was it so hard to remember? Why was it so hard to think?
What was the question? "Oh, yes... seven years ago... when I was... thirteen. Like Mercedes..." The name echoed in mind.
"An accident?"
His question pulled her back and she nodded with a contented sigh as her finger circled a button on his shirt. She reached a timid hand to his face. Gently, light as a feather, her fingers traveled over the strong distinguished lines of his face, exploring the textures again. She touched his lips and traced the wide and sensuous lines there before touching her own lips and remembering his kiss. "I wish you would ... kiss me again."
Victor chuckled as his large warm hand brushed back her hair, his lips lightly grazing her forehead. "You know, I half
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