To Win a Viscount by Frances Fowlkes

Author:Frances Fowlkes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-07-24T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Splotches of early-morning sunlight filtered through the budding, high branches, the small copse of oak the perfect respite for the snorting horses after a particularly grueling training run. Edmund’s stallion snorted its eagerness for rest as he followed Lady Albina’s bay, their heavy hooves snapping the fallen twigs underfoot.

“Here is as good a place to rest as any,” Edmund said, his voice loud in the serene setting.

“You don’t think it too secluded or far from the pasture?” Lady Albina asked. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she arched a dark brow.

Of course the dense thicket of trees was isolating and a fair distance from their usual run. He had selected the area precisely because of it. Unseen by Lady Albina, the earl had observed their training from afar on more than one occasion. Four weeks of his sporadic and unannounced visits had taught Edmund to secure his compensation in less visible areas, free from potential viewing and reprimand. The man’s visits brought enough anxiety to Edmund’s instruction, and he didn’t need further pressure placed on his shoulders whilst engaging in what was the most pleasurable part of his tutelage.

His body warmed in anticipation of receiving his compensation. A month’s instruction had not only made Lady Albina a more confident rider, but a more assured kisser. His instruction had yielded a lean, intuitive racer, yes, but even more so, a curious, bold, and passionate lover.

That he could not wait to have in his arms yet again.

“I think the location fine.” Edmund stilled his horse and slid off the beast’s wide back. “The shade allows the horses a nice respite from the sun’s heat.”

“It is only dawn, Mr. White. And I am still cool in my jacket. I hardly think the horses overheated.”

“You are yet cold?” he asked. Coming alongside her horse, he offered up his hand, which she grasped as she fell forward, into his embrace. He held her against his chest, the floral bouquet of her soap firming his lower half. “I had thought the new jacket warmer than the previous one.”

She glanced down at the wool coat he had given her a few weeks prior. While larger than her last, it was thicker, the standard uniform issued from the earl to his staff. Edmund had given it out of his own collection, not wishing to overstep or push the boundaries of the earl’s generosity.

Trembling in his arms, she said, “The jacket is quite fine, Mr. White. The temperature, however, a bit cooler here than in the sun-filled pasture.”

“A problem I can easily rectify.” Edmund gathered her close and nuzzled his face into her hair. “Are you warmer?”

A trill of laughter escaped her lips, accelerating his heartbeat. “I am. Though only by a degree.”

“A degree? I shall have to do better than that.” He slid a hand under her chin and tilted her face upward.

“Yes, though, however shall you manage?” she whispered.

“Oh, I think ways might be found, my lady.” Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against hers. She parted her mouth on a sigh, the small exhalation the welcome encouragement he sought.

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