Page 49 of Aurelia

Memories of that night and their kiss—which she had worked so hard and diligently to repress—suddenly flooded her. Aurelia opened her mouth, but then realized she had nothing to say, and closed it again.

She faced forward, staring at the beauty all around her, but only seeing the man at her side.

***

A short time later Aurelia was crouched on a rock, staring intently into a tide pool, and sketching like mad when something shockingly cold engulfed her ankle boots.

She yelped and lurched to her feet so abruptly that she slipped off the rock and promptly staggered backward, dropping her sketchpad into the water.

Hands closed around Aurelia’s waist and she was suddenly moving through the air. “Wha—”

“The water is coming in fast,” Lord Crewe said, his voice terse as he deftly swung her to the side of his body and hitched her on his hip as if she were an infant—an extremely big one—his large hand splayed beneath her buttocks and holding her tightly. “I should have been paying attention to the tide,” he muttered, trudging through water that was deep enough to reach his calves and staring down at his feet, which were barely visible in the churning froth. “The way you were leaning over that rock pool I’m surprised you weren’t swept right in.”

Aurelia was too aware of his hand on her bottom and her spread sex pressed against his hard hip to generate a sensible response. He was carrying her along as if she weighed no more than her satchel.

Her satchel.

“Where is my satchel?” she cried, feeling her chest for the strap that was usually across her torso.

“You left it with the horses,” he reminded her. “But I’m afraid your sketchbook was lost before I got to you.” Lord Crewe suddenly staggered and Aurelia bit back a startled squeak as one of his legs sank into what must have been a pool.

“Damnation,” he muttered, pushing himself out of the hole, his arm like an iron bar around her. He took a few steps and then shrugged her up higher on his hip and soldiered on.

Once again Aurelia had to bite her lip, but this time to hold back a gasp of pleasure as his hip rubbed against exactly the right spot.

Oh Lord, she silently prayed.

“Here we are,” the earl said, his voice slightly breathless. But instead of putting her down, he turned to her, his eye squinting against the sun, only a slice of icy blue iris visible. “Well, hell,” he muttered, his lips twisting into an odd smile.

And then he lowered his mouth over hers.

***

You bastard, Crewe!

The voice in his head sounded like his cousin’s—if Arthur had ever used such vulgar language. Roland was a bastard for wanting Miss Burton. And an even bigger one for acting on his desire.

His arm ached from carrying her, but by God, she was a delicious armful—tall and slim and delicate with soft, gentle curves that fit against his body in a way that felt shockingly… right.

Her lips were as plush and soft as he remembered and, just like their all-too-brief kiss in the library, her response was adorably eager and innocent, once again driving home the fact that she knew next to nothing about kissing.

Because she was an innocent.

That realization had stopped him that night, but it didn’t do a damned thing right now.

She tasted, smelled, and felt bloody intoxicating. And then she gave a soft moan and pressed her mouth against his, and Roland needed more.

He let her slide down off his hip, her soft body grinding against his far harder torso. Rather than release her when her feet touched the ground, he embraced her slim back with one arm and cupped her face with his free hand, tilting her until he could reach her better.

When her hands came up to rest on his hips he slid his tongue between her primly pursed lips. She gasped at the bold move, but then pressed herself closer rather than pulling away.

Encouraged, Roland invaded her with all the finesse and gusto of one of his ancestors ransacking a village, his self-control rapidly splintering as he explored her soft wet heat.

Her hands tightened on his hips, her fingers digging into his flesh and pulling him against her. It was his turn to moan when his erect cock pushed against her belly.

She stiffened and lifted her mouth from his, meeting his gaze with eyes so wide and shocked he might have laughed if he wasn’t so bloody hungry for her.

Frustration and restraint warred within him.