Fiery Pursuit (Passionate Pursuits, Book One) Read online

  She refused a traditional riding habit.

  “I rode quite a bit when I was younger, before we went to London to live. Papa had a split skirt made for me and I’ve always ridden astride. Could you please do that for me, Madam Lefleur? And make it shorter so it barely tops my boots.”

  Madam Lefleur gasped in horror and looked disapproving. The countess drew herself up with her starchiest hauteur, threw a withering glance at Madam Lefleur and spoke only to Sophie.

  “How very clever of you, Sophie. Perhaps I need one too. I’ve always hated sidesaddles.”

  Lars laughed as he dropped a kiss on his mother’s hair.

  “I think you both definitely need one. Sidesaddles look so uncomfortable. I think Madam Lefleur has your measurements, Mama. Can you do one for each of my ladies, Madam?”

  Madam Lefleur’s face changed so quickly Sophia had to turn away to hide her smile.

  “Of course, milord. If the ladies would kindly pick their materials, I’ll put the girls on them at once.”

  Sophie turned back, her face calm. “And please don’t put too much material in the trousers, Madame. Enough to make them look like skirts if we’re standing still, but not so much as to be unwieldy.”

  A little perturbed about how much this was costing Lars, her face sobered. And why was Lars so particular about how she looked? The thought of how much she owed him worried her. She loved the new clothes, but surely she didn’t need so many all at once.

  If she murdered Mallory she’d probably be in prison the rest of her life. And then only if Lars could save her from a death sentence. Certainly he could never marry a murderess.

  * * * * *

  Three days later Sophie sighed with pleasure and donned her new riding habit, using the beautiful blue ribbon Lars had surprised her with to tie back her hair. Soon she skipped down the stairs and called for her horse.

  She rode daily, gradually progressing to long rides around the estate. The grounds around the chateau were unusually beautiful, but she liked it best when the cultivated gardens gave way to more country-like paths. Often Lars rode with her, but mostly she was alone except for her groom. She possessed a natural skill for riding, and loved cantering or galloping with the wind in her face. When she rode alone, Lars made sure her groom was armed, or that when she ventured too far from the house another groom or two followed her at a discreet distance. She felt perfectly safe on his estate and with his loving precautions.

  Chapter Six

  Sophie had turned into an avid horsewoman. She loved her mare Dolly, and she adored the fact she was able to ride again and as much as she wanted. Her bottom was now not so dreadfully sore when she finished a long ride. She’d never suspected she’d be allowed this new joy, and once again she thought of how she’d miss riding when she was forced to leave Lars. To leave Lars? How could she? The very thought plunged her into despair. For her it would almost be an impossibility. To be without the joy of caressing his sculptured body and his impressive cock? To give up having him bring her to one of her soul-shaking orgasms? She’d have to summon a fortitude she wasn’t sure she possessed. And yet she’d not handicap him with a murderess as a wife.

  There would ultimately be no choice. Not if she possessed any honor at all.

  She wanted to ride as often as she could before they went to London. She’d never completely followed the path that led through the woods. Lars was holed up in his study, and today she was bored with reading. Her mathematical treatise was polished and ready for presentation. She didn’t know when, but she’d manage that too.

  She had Dolly saddled and headed out toward the forest. She was used to having a groom go with her, so she merely saluted him with her whip and trotted Dolly until she was warmed up. Then she let loose, cantering into the woods, delighting in the cool green shade and the feel of being at one with nature. Nature at its best. Much as she longed to get to London and avenge her father, still she knew she’d miss the peace and beauty of Alfheimer for the rest of her life.

  Throttling her unproductive thoughts, she enjoyed the beauty of the forest, its fragrant and pervasive scent of pines and the wildflowers winking up at her from patches along the path. The trees were varied, from massive oaks and pines to small saplings. At some point she heard her groom calling to her, but in a delightful daze from the beauty surrounding her she rode on. Not thinking at all. Relaxed and enjoying herself in a glow of unusual contentment.

  When she felt herself yanked from her horse and thrown to the ground she was too stunned to comprehend what had happened. But John Smythe stood over her, as dark and menacing as ever, with a victorious gloat on his face and lewd anticipation in his eyes. Villain Two in all his menacing danger.

  “Well, my fine lady. You’ve finally left the protection of your beloved’s fancy estate. You’ll sing a new song pretty soon. Will you scream or shout when I fuck you? It will take quite a few times to satisfy me. Your groom is pounding up to rescue you, but I’ve got him in my gun sights. He’s a dead man if he comes closer.”

  To her horror Smythe did have his pistol in his hand, and as she watched he cocked it. Brant galloped up and Smythe let him advance until he was within firing distance. When he sighted the pistol Sophie gathered her strength and kicked at his nearest leg, even though she couldn’t reach above his boot.

  Her kick served to slightly alter Smythe’s aim. The groom was hit, but the shot missed his chest and shattered his shoulder. He fell from his horse and lay on the forest floor, writhing with pain. Even so, he tried to get up, but Smythe leaned over and bashed his head with the gun.

  “Guess we don’t need witnesses after all, do we, milady? He’ll not help you for some time. Still I wonder if it might not be better if I take you with me. I don’t want no more interruptions.”

  Even as he moved toward her, the two rear guards came thundering along the path. Sophie looked on in astonishment as Smythe cursed loudly and grabbed her to him and shouted at them.

  “Come any closer and she’ll be the one to pay. I’ve got one bullet left and I’ll use it on her. I’d rather take her with me but if you prefer her dead come right ahead. Then you’ll have even more to confess to your master.”

  Both grooms stood still, looking at Smythe with his gun to Sophie’s head. The men’s expressions showed obvious distress and wild uncertainty of what they should do.

  Smythe grunted out a laugh and motioned to Sophie to start walking. “I’ll take her with me. If I hear the slightest sound of one of you following me I won’t hesitate to kill her before I run. Now get moving, bitch. My horse is over this here mound, and you’re coming with me. This time there’s no miserable elf to stop me.”

  A soft, stern voice suddenly spoke. “Ah, but there is. I do not permit anyone besides me to lay hands on my fiancée. Put your gun down, Smythe, and I’ll allow you to walk away.”

  Smythe swung around, although he still kept the gun fast against Sophie’s head.

  “I’ll kill her before I do, my fancy lord. Now move out of our way, and maybe I’ll spare her life and yours too.”

  Lars looked at him with resignation. “So be it.”

  The gun fell out of Smythe’s hand as Lars immobilized him on the spot. He’d like to have used his fists on the brute, but not with Sophie watching and frightened. Sophie watched in awe as the two guards immediately moved in, catching him as he crumpled and binding his hands behind his back.

  One of them grinned at Lars. “This is one real nasty thug, milord. What do you want us to do with him?”

  Lars stripped off his crested ring and held it in his hand. This piece of carrion was going no place but to jail and deportation. Still Lars said nothing for a moment. He must eliminate Smythe as a player and yet take care of his men. Smythe was tricky as well as evil. A slight protective spell around all of them seemed best.

  “He’ll wake in an hour. Tie him securely now and then take him to the magistrate. As soon as he is sensible he’s being charged for murderous assault on a nobleman and h
is fiancée. I think the best thing is to have him deported to someplace far away. I’ll think about where I want him to go, but I want him out of the country. I’ll send word.”

  Probably Van Neiman’s land would be the farthest. As a powerful nobleman Lars could have him hung. Still, getting him out of the way for good was the best solution. He had this silly scruple about killing even a bastard like Smythe.

  He turned to Brant and put curative hands on his shoulder, whispering words of healing until the wound stopped bleeding. Then he tore off his own shirt and used it for a bandage, tying the groom’s arm tightly so there would be as little movement as possible. Brant’s face had lost its agonized look, and by the time Lars helped him gently to his saddle he revived enough to smile and thank his lordship.

  “Get Brant to a regular doctor as soon as possible. Fortunately the bullet went cleanly through, but the wound needs to be cleansed and dressed. Turn Smythe over to the authorities after you take Brant to a doctor. Watch him well ’til then. My ring will prove your story, and I’ll be along after I take care of my lady.”

  They both watched the four set out. Smythe was lashed stomach down in front of one of the guards, then Brant, looking pale but determined sitting on his horse, and then the last guard with his gun cocked and at the ready should Smythe manage to make a move.

  Lars watched the little procession, knowing they would be all right, but that he’d better follow them fairly soon to press charges.

  He heard a little sob and turned and held out his arms even as Sophie rushed to him. She’d pushed herself to her feet and watched as Lars rescued her once again.

  “Lars, I’m so sorry. I’m nothing but trouble to you.”

  She clung to him, molding her body against his as closely as she could. She was shaking and distraught, and Lars held her tightly even as he turned to check the guards were on their way.

  Lars reveled in the feeling of Sophie’s body clinging to his. Nestling against him with a shuddering sigh. He raised her beloved face to see if she realized how she was inflaming him, and saw only naked desire. She attempted to press even closer and ran her hands up and down his body even as she lifted her face for his kiss. All thoughts of denying their mutual passion fled, as Lars swung her up in his arms and, spotting a grassy glade, strode toward it. She clutched him tighter and wiggled her body frantically against him.

  “Yes, Lars. Oh yes, please.”

  If she’d thought for a hundred years she could not have uttered more inflammatory words.

  Lars took off his coat, spread it on a mossy patch and lowered her to it. He kissed her on her lips and then, opening her blouse, nuzzled her perfect breasts. Her belly rose as she bucked against him and Lars groaned in passion and relief from anxiety. He’d been so long without her, and now she seemed to want him at least partly as much as he wanted her. But he wouldn’t grind into her as if she were nothing but a receptacle for his lust. She was his everything, the mate he’d despaired of finding. He was determined not to rush this wonderful joining.

  He let his hands drift over her perfect body, molding first her breasts, then baring them as he drew her dress down to her waist. She was already writhing and more than ready for him to continue his skillful undressing. He pulled off her shoes and drew her riding outfit over her uplifted arms. She was clad only in her shift and he gloried in the fact she never wore stays. Independence or the knowledge she didn’t need them? Maybe some of both.

  He quickly unbuttoned the flap of his trousers and drawers and let his cock spring free. He was far too gone in passion to do more.

  He eased her legs apart with his knees, even as he resumed his wild caressing of her face and her heaving bare breasts. Pinching her nipples as she moaned and tried to reach for his cock, still he held her off. He wanted her mindless, although what was left of his brain told him she was as inflamed as he was. He suckled her nipples while her hips rose to meet his, although he didn’t quite let her succeed. He caressed her hot cleft with heated and expert hands. Her pussy was dripping wet, and more than ready for him. She responded with an ardor delighting him, twining her legs around his waist and bucking her pussy against him.

  “Lars, please. I want you. Now.”

  Her beseeching words arrowed to his already swollen cock. Her luminous eyes showed a passion that made his heart turn over in his chest. He heard her with joy. Her voice expressed longing and desire. Perhaps even a love she was not yet ready to acknowledge. No matter, he could wait no longer. He entered her with a long, plunging stroke. Her walls tightened so deliciously around him he fought not to spill his seed before she’d received pleasure. Not moving for a moment, he struggled for control, resting his forehead against hers, then held her to him tightly and took a long, deep breath.

  Sophie wasn’t about to wait any longer. Grabbing his hips, she raised her body and clutched his cock with the walls of her vagina. Powerless to resist, he resumed his stroking, out of control and wanting only to brand her so deeply with his body she’d never again think of leaving him.

  Mine, mine, mine. Forever mine.

  Lars reveled in the feel of her slick body closing around him, her legs around his waist, her inner muscles clenching his fully swollen cock. Her vagina clutched him tightly as she rocked against him in a frenzied heat.

  She seemed to melt around him, as Lars lost all control and almost lifted her body from the grass with his powerful strokes. She came immediately, but he didn’t allow himself release yet. He wanted her body to acknowledge his possession and so he drove into her again and again. They were both heaving for breath before he allowed himself to have his own strong and spurting orgasm. Sophie joined him and screamed as she felt his last thrust, and they rode almost instantly to an ecstatic finish.

  Not letting her free, Lars rolled her until they lay side by side, luxuriating in the warmth of their still-joined bodies as their breathing gradually slowed. He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead sweetly.

  “You are everything I’ve ever wanted, Sophie. Will you marry me? I want to share your problems as well as your joys. I love you so very much.”

  Sophie retreated into silence. He could feel her heart’s withdrawal even as she broke their bodily link and sat up beside him.

  She leaned over and buried her face in his shoulder for a long minute. Then she raised her head, her regret making it hard to speak.

  “Lars, you know I cannot. You’re a nobleman. You cannot marry a woman who might well be accused of murder. Why can’t you understand that?”

  “Do you love me, Sophie?”

  “Of course I do. You must know that also. I certainly show you with my body every time I get the chance. But the answer is still no. I cannot marry you.”

  He lay back, regarding her gravely. He made no effort to cover his splendid body, his rod only half diminished. Stretched out beside her like some magnificent god of the past, he held himself still but regarded her with hot eyes that nearly dissolved Sophie. The male muskiness of his scent wove its own sensuous spell, and she caught herself just before she agreed to do whatever he wanted.

  Why was she reluctant to marry this wonderful, this perfect man who was misguided enough to think he loved her? Because surely when he knew her better he’d realize she was not nearly the woman he deserved as his countess. Surely until she’d avenged her father she couldn’t even think of telling him how deeply she loved him. Perhaps she could think of something short of murdering Mallory that would be a suitable revenge and she’d be free to bare her feelings to Lars. But until then she must face the fact she might soon be a murderess. If he knew how desperately she loved him she could never hold out against him.

  He’d protect her in any case. She must save him from his own nobility of character.

  Lars regarded her in silence for an uncomfortable length of time. Both his elf’s ears were peeking through his long brown hair, and she longed to reach over and kiss the tips of each one.

  Finally he heaved himself to his feet in one s
wift, graceful motion and stood looking down on her. His face was without expression, other than that cold reserve she hated.

  “We leave for London tomorrow. At noon. I’ll instruct your maid to pack all your new clothes.”

  Without another word or glance he strode toward his horse.

  Sophie sat silently for a while, using all her control to keep from breaking into a fit of desperate sobbing. Her warm, loving Lars was gone. The question was should she try to get him back? Or for his sake, should she let him go? Drive him from her while she had the strength?

  Lying back, she gave in to a few sobs after all. She was miserable even at the thought of living without him. What would it be like if she killed her enemy and was finally forced to give up Lars? How would she ever bear a life with no Lars?

  She had no choice. She was the only witness to her father’s murder.

  She must avenge him.

  Finding a nearby rock to help her, Sophie mounted her horse. Lars leaving her alone rather than touch her showed his determination, although she’d wager his mind was keeping track of her and making sure she followed. Swallowing her anguish, she firmed her resolve and rode behind him until they reached the stables.

  He waited until she was safely there and then left her without a word.

  She wasn’t sure she should try again to break through his steely tenacity to hold himself aloof unless she gave in. His “marry me or else” attitude seemed a mite intransigent to her. He surely knew she loved him to distraction. Why would he not at least consider her obligations and honor them by his understanding? She was in one hellish predicament, loving Lars and yet refusing to endanger him with her revenge.

  Could that damned stubborn elf at least talk to her about her dilemma?

  Chapter Seven

  Lars dressed quickly and stormed to the stables. He must first take care of the formalities of charging Smythe and make sure the magistrate understood the seriousness of the charges. And to keep him safe until he decided exactly what he wanted to do with him. For now he’d concentrate on what the hell to do with Sophie.