“In Greek mythology Pontus was the god of the sea, father of the fish and other sea creatures, while Triton was styled the messenger of the sea—” I managed to shut off my idiotic rambling and reached out to stroke Pontus, hoping for a distraction from my embarrassment. It helped a little, but not before I felt the flush of heat creep up my neck. I had a habit of spouting off senseless facts that nobody ever cared to know. It was obnoxious.
Ivan moved in to nuzzle the side of my neck where I had to be flushed as red as a beet. “I like it when you talk nerdy to me, Gabrielle, and I'm going to insist we revisit this," –he placed his hand at my throat; wrapping it around my neck to hold me gently but with the force of something much more binding— "professor-student situation."
I leaned into his nibbling lips. “You do? I was about to apologize for doing the professor routine. I try to refrain but I can’t change the fact that I am a gigantic nerd. Anorak, as you Brits say.”
“You’re right about the Greek names. There have been many aquatic deities named among the horses bred here over the years.” He took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him directly. “An educated woman as sexy as you are is a rarity. Don’t you know that? It pleases me to see you interested in the world around you. You’re an intelligent, passionate, creature with absolutely no reason to apologize for being the gorgeous anorak you are.”
He grinned widely, giving me the view of his perfect white teeth but for the space between the middle two. I liked it on him. “Oh, so you agree I’m a nerd?” I pretended to be offended even though I was secretly thrilled about the gorgeous anorak remark. “You’re supposed to contradict me and say it’s not true.”
“I would change nothing about you, Gabrielle,” he said with a soft shake of his head.
And then, his green eyes grew dark and determined as he leaned in and took my mouth in a blistering kiss that went on for a good while. Plenty long enough to make me forget all about being embarrassed in front of him, or even my own name for that matter. I’d discovered Ivan had a way of making me forget just about everything.
By the time he ended the kiss, I had been reduced to nothing more than a breathless, molten mess. Something Ivan could probably give a class on.
I would change nothing about you, Gabrielle.
It was nice of him to say so, but I was sure that if he knew everything about me, he would never have said it in the first place.
IVAN
As we walked toward the horse barns, I reached for her hand which she accepted sweetly, curling her delicate fingers around mine in a gentle acknowledgement of trust. Fledgling trust, yes, but she was giving it to me. And Christ, did it turn me on to the point of making it bloody difficult to think about anything but having her underneath me again. This woman held power. And she could do some damage with her power if she knew she had it. But I don't think she had any idea at all. She appeared completely unaware of any preconceived judgments regarding me, which made sense really when she didn't have a clue who I was. She'd also been hurt by someone in the past. I'd be lying if I said didn't want to be the one to make that pain disappear. I wanted to help her as much as she could help me. And didn’t that just make her all the more unique and alluring?
Fucking irresistible more like.
She enjoyed meeting the other horses and greeted each one separately. I snapped a pic of her with Athena, reminding her that the Greek names for the horses were still in full force after nearly two centuries. She also enjoyed her game of demanding I give her the name of every horse we met. Which I did. Gabrielle enjoyed the hell out of testing me. I don't know why she cared if I knew the names of the horses or not, but it damn well pleased me that she did. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a guest at Donadea who truly seemed to appreciate the old place as I did.
“So now you’ve indulged me showing you around the grounds, what part of D.R. do you want to see next?” I asked her the question even though I knew what she would say. She was itching to get a look at the art. Winding her up was a pleasure all in itself because soothing her back down again would be my reward… later. Later was quickly evolving into something of an obsession. I couldn’t get enough alone time with Gabrielle Hargreave, and the realization of that fact had me a tad worried. The feeling of intensity I had when I was with her was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I realized right away I was definitely in uncharted territory, and not completely sure how to proceed. Carefully of course. I would not fuck this up with her a second time.
“D.R.?” She squinted up at me, looking adorably curious.
“Donadea Rothvale is a mouthful. D.R. for short.” I looked around at the landscape. “I love it here and it’s nice to be able to show it to someone who appreci—”
“Rothvale? You just said Rothvale.” She jerked her hand, stopping us dead in our tracks as we walked toward the Jeep, her eyes round with surprise.
“Yeees…because Rothvale is the baronial title I inherited.” What had got her all wound up now?
“Oh, my blessed God, you're Lord Rothvale, aren’t you!”
She shrieked the accusation at me and stomped her foot, all worked up over something yet again—and ever so lusciously fuckable to me. I wanted to haul her away somewhere for a quick and dirty shag just to take the edge off. I could have those jeans off her in seconds, and the horse barn would do just fine for a bit of privacy—
“I just figured it out,” she continued breathily, green eyes still wide. “I—I did not know, Ivan. Nobody ever mentioned your title—just your name. Most of the discussion focused on the large amount of uncatalogued paintings you’d inherited, and how you were in need of someone to come over here to take a look in case you had something significant in your collection. Paul Langley had only told me you were a generous patron from an old aristocratic family, and pretty much blackmailed me into accepting the assignment that first time.”
“Okay…” I paused, unsure where this line of thought was leading. What did my title have to do with anything? “Well, I’ve already told you how pleased I am that you’ve come, I really think there’s a bit of fate at work here, don’t you? I've so much bloody art. You're a specialist in art. I like—”
“My thesis, Ivan.” She pushed her hand on my chest to stop my rambling.
“And your thesis is about?” I really wished she might fill me in at some point because I was not grasping the plot at all.
“Mallerton. My thesis is on Tristan Mallerton, probably the most important Romanticist painter that ever lived. He painted works that were unique and vibrant with life, absent of the dark, stiff, formality that marked the work of artists that came before him. His talent was new and amazing for the period. Innovative. I know you’ve mentioned to me that you have a Mallerton or two in your collection, but I didn’t really have a lot of faith that you knew what you were talking about. Finding Mrs. Gravelle’s wedding portrait on your stairwell this morning made me hopeful there might be another undiscovered Mallerton here. And then you told me about the ladies playing cards…and now I find out you are freaking Lord Rothvale.” She sighed and shook her head back and forth slowly. “I can’t believe the irony.”