The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [55]
“There are even some rich pink marsh orchids sticking up here and there,” Helen said. “You wouldn’t enjoy it if I threw marsh orchids at you. But mainly, as you can see, there is just the harsh green shingle flora covering most everything. Yes, this is my biblical lily of the valley. I do not expect it to return anything to me, except the lamp.”
“A rather large expectation.”
“Just the search makes it worth it,” and he believed her. Actually, it would make it worth it to him as well. He watched her reach down and snap a flower off its stem. “It’s wild chamomile,” she said, straightening. “Just breathe in the smell of it, Lord Beecham. Mrs. Stockley makes a marvelous tea with it.”
“The scent is not bad, but on the other hand, it’s not you.”
Did her hand tremble at his words just a bit? Probably not. She said, “Lord Beecham, you will attend me. Now is one of those unexpected times in your life when you must attune your brilliant mind to matters other than carnal passions.”
“You wish me to forget that soft white flesh behind your knees?”
“You have never known the soft white flesh behind my knees.”
“True, I’ve been too frantic, too crazed with lust, and thus neglected the less dramatic yet still quite delicious treats that you have to offer me. I will try to find more control the next time.” He took her hand and couldn’t help himself. He stared at her mouth. “But the problem, Helen, is that I want to be inside you immediately. I want to be so deep inside you that when you tighten around me, I feel like I will fly apart and there is no more wondrous thing in life to do than fly apart inside of you. And your long legs, Helen, around my flanks, squeezing me. And just before you scream your pleasure, I love to kiss that wild beating pulse in your throat.”
“You are very fluent with words that create very vivid images, but I am not listening to you, Lord Beecham. The words you have just said have flown away on bird wings, thus, to me, they never even existed.
“There will be no next time. I have given this a good deal of thought. You will be my partner, no more, no less. Anything else makes no sense. I am serious about this, Lord Beecham. Now, it is time to get back to Shugborough Hall. It is time for luncheon, then time for work.”
He lightly stroked his fingers over her cheek, tucked a windblown piece of hair behind her ear, and leaned forward to touch his mouth to hers. It nearly undid him, but not quite.
He drew back, smiled at her, patted her cheek, and whistled as he walked away from her.
“You need discipline,” she called after him, her hair whipping into her mouth.
He turned and gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Discipline, if dished out by an expert, is a very fine thing, Miss Mayberry. Perhaps I should reconsider having a competition with you. What do you think? Could you possibly devise anything close to what I eventually will do to you?”
“You will probably be shot before that can happen.”
He laughed and laughed. It was beginning to feel familiar to him now, this laughter thing. He rather liked it. It made his innards feel warm and somehow more connected to something outside himself. It brought that something closer to him, and whatever it was, he liked it.
Helen prepared to leave him at the turnoff to Shugborough Hall. “I must find Walter Jones, the young man who will be marrying Teeny. Also, I must see that all my lads are doing their jobs correctly and that Mrs. Toop is controlling Cook and Gwen. I will be home soon.”
“What if the lads are slackers?”
“They will be sorry for it.” She paused a moment, then gave him a sloe-eyed smile that made him instantly ran dier than a goat looking at the first grass of spring. “They know all about punishments, Lord Beecham. It is rare that they would dare not pull their weight. It is only when there is a rumor about a new punishment that they do their jobs poorly just to see what it is.”
His eyes nearly crossed. She gave him a little wave and rode Eleanor, snorting