More or Less a Marchioness by Anna Bradley

Author:Anna Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Finn had meant to take her arm at once and move her away from the horse before Chaos tried to knock her over or bite her, but he stilled when he caught sight of her leaning over the edge of the stall, her bright hair illuminated by a beam of sunlight.

Her head was bent toward the horse, one of her hands curled around the stall door, the other caressing the horse’s neck with slow, easy strokes. She was murmuring to him, and the horse’s ears were twitching with pleasure at the sound of her low, sweet voice.

Finn leaned a hip against the door of the stall and crossed his arms over his chest. She was so preoccupied with the stallion she didn’t seem to realize he was there, and the scene was so tranquil he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt them.

He’d watch her for a moment only, and then he’d—

“Oh, just look at you, you beauty.” She let out a soft laugh when Chaos butted his nose roughly into her shoulder. “Oh no, indeed. There will be none of that. When I ride you, you’ll act the gentleman, sir.”

She continued to stroke the horse with long, steady sweeps of her hand, again and again, slow and rhythmic, crooning to him all the while. Finn couldn’t hear all of what she said, but it didn’t matter.

She could be saying anything, or nothing at all.

His eyes slid half-closed as he let himself fall deeper under the spell of her hypnotic voice, but even as his brain was lulled into quiet the rest of his body surged with awareness. She didn’t look at him, but it was as if he were taking her inside him, each syllable sinking in and becoming invisible, like water disappearing into sand.

“There. That’s it, Chaos. You can be sweet when you choose, can’t you?”

She laughed again when the stallion nosed her cheek, and Finn’s own lips curved in response. Had he never heard her laugh before? Or was it another thing he’d failed to notice about her? Her laugh, the stubborn lift of her chin, her voice like the stroke of a hand over him, a lullaby and a seduction at once.

He would have stood there all day and listened to her.

“You’re both sweet and wicked, aren’t you? Ah, such a soft mouth, like velvet.”

Finn’s breath grew short, his chest heaving with each inhale. Even here, in the stables, with Lady Honora and Wrexley right outside the door, every inch of him strained toward her, his cock rising and pressing against the front of his falls, his body desperate for more of her voice, her fingers stroking his lips. What would it be like to lie next to her, with her mouth pressed to his ear as she whispered to him, each word no more than a warm breath of air?

“No, I can’t believe you’re truly wicked, not with that mouth.”

And the horse—damned if the horse wasn’t just as fascinated with her as Finn was. Chaos was a devil.

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