She began to push at him, but remembering his injury, she stopped. Her hands were suspended in midair as Devon pulled her hips against his. Feeling how hard he was, Kathleen drew in a quick breath.
“Someone will see,” she hissed.
He was far too occupied with her drawers to care. “Silk,” he said, his hand wandering deeper inside the trousers.
“Yes, so they don’t bunch up beneath the… Oh, do stop…”
The legs of the undergarment were hemmed so that they only just covered the tops of her thighs. As Devon continued to explore, he discovered that there was no split-seam opening in her drawers. “They’re sewn shut.”
A nervous giggle broke through Kathleen’s indignation as she saw his genuinely perplexed expression. “One wouldn’t want an opening there while riding.” She shivered as one of his hands slid down her front to caress her over the silk.
He traced the delicate swells of feminine flesh, the heat of her radiating through the fabric. His fingertips played over her, tickling and soothing, and he felt a change in her body, the way she began to soften against him. Returning his mouth to her neck, he kissed the smooth curve down to the collar of her jacket. Very gently he used his knuckle to stroke into the furrow between her thighs, the knobbiness drawing a moan from her.
She began to say something on a desperate breath, but he took the words into his mouth, kissing her with avid hunger. Her hands fluttered to his shoulders, and she clung to him with an agitated sound. Her reluctance was collapsing, melting deliciously, and he didn’t allow her one second of respite, only kissed and stroked until a little seep of dampness came through the silk.
Kathleen struggled until he let go of her and stepped back. Holding the front of her trousers closed, she went to snatch her overskirt from the hook on the wall. She grappled with the heavy mass of fabric, unable to find the fastenings.
“Would you like me to —” Devon began.
“No.” Huffing with frustration, she gave up and bundled the skirts in her arms.
Instinctively Devon reached out for her. She hopped back with an anxious froth of laughter.
The sound aroused him unbearably, heat bolting from nerve to nerve.
“Kathleen.” He made no attempt to hide the lust in his gaze. “If you hold still, I’ll help you with your skirt. But if you run from me, you’re going to be caught.” He took an unsteady breath before adding softly, “And I’ll make you come for me again.”
Her eyes turned huge.
He took a deliberate step forward. She bolted across the nearest threshold and fled to the carriage room. Devon was at her heels instantly, following her past the workshop with its long carpenter’s benches and tool cupboards. The carriage room smelled pleasantly of sawdust, axle grease, lacquer varnish, and leather polish. It was quiet and shadowy, illuminated only by a row of skylights over massive hinge-strapped doors that could be opened onto the estate’s carriage drive.
Kathleen darted through rows of vehicles used for different purposes; carts, wagons, a light brougham, a landau with a folding top, a phaeton, a hooded barouche for summer. Devon circled around and intercepted her beside the family coach, a huge, stately carriage that could only be pulled by six horses. It had been designed as a symbol of power and prestige, with the Ravenel family crest – a trio of black ravens on a white and gold shield – painted on the sides.
Halting abruptly, Kathleen stared at him through the semidarkness.
Taking the overskirt from her, Devon dropped it to the floor, and pinned her against the side of the carriage.
“My riding skirt,” she exclaimed in dismay. “You’ll ruin it.”
Devon laughed. “You were never going to wear it anyway.” He began to unbutton her riding jacket, while she sputtered helplessly.
Quieting her with his mouth, he worked on the row of buttons. After the sides of the jacket had listed open, he took the back of her head in his hand and kissed her more deeply, ravishing her mouth, and she responded as if she couldn’t help herself. A shock of pleasure went through him as he felt her suck on his tongue with a shy little tug, and he reached out to fumble for the ring-shaped handle of the carriage door.
Realizing what he intended, Kathleen said dazedly, “You can’t.”
Devon was more aroused and entertained than he’d ever been in his life. After tugging the door open, he pulled down the folding step. “Here’s your choice: Out here, in full view of anyone who passes by… or in the carriage, where no one will see.”
She blinked and stared at him, seeming aghast. But there was no concealing the deep flush of excitement on her face.
“Out here, then,” he said ruthlessly, and reached for the waist of her trousers.
Galvanized into action, Kathleen turned with a whimper and climbed into the carriage.
Devon followed instantly.
The interior of the carriage was luxuriously upholstered in leather and velvet, with lacquered wood inlays, compartments for crystal glasses and wine, and silk-fringed damask curtains framing the windows. At first it was too dark to see, but as Devon’s vision adjusted, he could make out the pale gleam of Kathleen’s skin.
She moved uncertainly, sliding her arms from the riding jacket as he tugged it from her. He reached around her to unfasten the buttons at the back of her blouse, and felt her trembling. Catching the rim of her ear with his teeth, he nipped softly and soothed the little spot with the tip of his tongue.
“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he whispered. “Until then, we’ll play by my rules.” He moved to strip off his coat with a grimace of effort. He pressed a smile against her head as he felt her hands go to the knot of his necktie.
With each item of clothing that was removed… waistcoat… braces… shirt… he began to seriously question how much self-control he would be able to maintain. As he eased Kathleen against his naked chest, she slid her arms around him, her palms coming to rest on the backs of his shoulders. Groaning, he kissed his way down to the upper curves of her breasts, where the corset had plumped them high. He longed to unhook her corset, but there was no way he would be able to refasten it in the darkness.
Searching beneath the loosened waist of her trousers, he found the drawstring of the silk drawers, and untied it with a deft tug. Kathleen stiffened, but she didn’t protest as he eased the garments down past her hips, and lower still, with hands that weren’t quite steady. His heart pounded in a rough staccato, every muscle knotted with craving. Kneeling on the carpeted floor, he ran his palms over the smooth curves of her bare hips and along the length of her thighs. The riding trousers had caught on her short boots, bunching at her ankles. Thanks to the gussets on the sides, and the leather tabs at the backs, the boots were easily removed. After divesting her of the trousers, Devon drew a single fingertip along the line of her clenched thighs.