The Bride of Larkspear: A Fitzhugh Trilogy Erotic Novella by Sherry Thomas
Author:Sherry Thomas [Thomas, Sherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Erotica
ISBN: 9781620510599
Google: 6IgSGP8MNRUC
Amazon: 1620510596
Publisher: NLA Digital Liaison
Published: 2012-09-29T21:00:00+00:00
AFTERWARD, I RELEASE HER WRISTS, hold her in my arms, and, with her blindfold still on, kiss her for a long time. She does not return my kiss, but she does not speak in mockery. Nor does she tell me she is pretending that I am someone else when I once again make love to her, slowly, tenderly—for a while, at least, until my lust—our lust—burns out of control and we again revert to animals.
In need. In frenzy.
In love.
Me, at least.
Chapter Four
DAWN BEGAN WITH A MISTY DRIZZLE. By the time I return—early—from my ride, rain is coming down in a steady shower, accompanied by flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.
I find Grisham outside my door, anxiously waiting for me. Most of the time he is high-spirited and adventuresome, and I see little of him except in passing, as he runs about showing himself a good time around the estate. But when the sky cracks open with booms of thunder, Grisham turns into a whimpering pup and follows on my heels for as long as the weather remains loud and violent.
“I ought to chase you out of here, Grisham,” I admonish him even as I crouch down to scratch him behind his ears. “Why, yesterday afternoon when I came across you in the woods, you didn’t even stop to say ‘arf arf.’ You just zoomed past me after that rabbit. And now you come with your tail between your, well, next to your leg, and you want the comfort and security of my manly presence?”
Grisham barks eagerly.
“It’s true what they say: Irony is lost on you, my boy. All right, I forgive you. Now give me a minute change out of my wet clothes. We’ll go down for breakfast and I’ll let you steal some bacon from my pl—”
Some instinct makes me turn my head. Farther down the corridor, my bride stands by her half-open door, watching me. For no reason at all, my face grows hot.
And is it my imagination or is her face also turning red?
I straighten. “Lady Larkspear.”
She returns a perfunctory nod, steps back inside, and closes the door. I remain where I am for long minutes, before I realize I am still wet and that Grisham is still waiting for his bacon.
I sigh and rub the top of his head. “Come on.”
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