pink against the green foliage.
She eyed the tree; it was an ancient monster. 'I've never been this deep into the shrubbery before.'
'There's little reason to come this way unless you're heading to the succession houses.'
Luc drew her to an archway in the last hedge; she stepped through. Ahead stretched three long, low, elongated sheds with many glass panes in their roofs and walls. Paved paths led to doors set in the nearer ends of each; Luc steered her to the leftmost shed.
He opened the door; a gust of warm air, rich with the scent of soil, leaf mold, and rampantly growing greenery washed over them. A veritable jungle lay before them. Amelia entered; as Luc followed and closed the door, a faint ruffling of leaves high above drew her gaze. Slats in the roof were open, letting the breeze waft through.
She looked around, eyes widening at the sheer magnitude of the greenery. Then she realized. 'It's summer.' She glanced at Luc. 'Everything's growing.'
He nodded. A hand at her back, he steered her on. 'There's little to do at present but harvest the fruits. Later, it'll be cut back, but right now, everything's left to run riot.'
Riot indeed; they had to duck and weave to follow the paved path down the center of the shed. The jungle dense-ness extended to the door at the other end. Jettisoning any thought of an interlude in the succession house — there was barely room to stand — Amelia led the way out.
They emerged into a small paved area partially surrounded by low stone walls; shaded by large trees, the spot was distinctly cooler than the shed. Unexpectedly, it afforded a view over the shallow valley before the Chase. She glanced around, orienting herself. The home farm lay beyond the shade trees, with the kennels and then the stables farther back to the right. To the left lay the valley, slumbering in the summer heat.
She walked to the low stone wall beyond which the ground dipped toward the front lawn. Close by the shed, steps descended to a path leading to the front drive. 'I thought I knew most of the grounds, but I've never been here, either.'
Securing the shed's door, Luc glanced at her, then crossed the flags, halting directly behind her. Over her head, he surveyed the valley, the sight as familiar as his mother's face. 'You'll have plenty of time to become acquainted with every facet of the estate.'
A quiver of awareness shot through her; she hadn't realized he was so close. She went to turn; he stepped closer, trapping her between him and the thigh-high wall.
She caught her breath, went very still.
Raising his hands, he curved them about her shoulders, bent his head. He might have to dance to her tune; that didn't mean he couldn't lead.
He touched his lips to the point where her shoulder met her throat, and she shivered. Head lifting, tilting, allowing him access, she let herself lean against him, but she was far from relaxed.
Releasing her shoulders, he slid his hands down her arms, then slipped beneath to push his palms across her waist and lock her lightly against him. Paused for a moment to savor her body, supple and curvaceous, pressed to his, then, his jaw to her temple, he murmured, 'Why?'
After an instant, she murmured back, 'Why what?'
'Why are you, for want of a better word, seducing me?'
She seemed to consider. 'Don't you like it?' Her hands came to rest over his at her waist.
'I'm not complaining, but you could do with a few lessons from an expert.'
She laughed, interdigitating her fingers with his. 'What, then?'
'When you trap your quarry in a room with seduction in mind, it's a good idea to lock the door.'
'I'll bear that in mind.' There was laughter and something else in her voice. 'Anything else?'
'If intending to use any exotic location, it's wise to reconnoiter first.'
She sighed. 'I'd no idea a succession house could be so crowded.' After a moment, she added, 'Anyway, it's too hot.'
'You still haven't told me why.'
Amelia recognized the undertone in his voice, knew she would have to answer. 'Because I thought you'd like it.' That was at least partly true. 'Don't you?'
'Yes. Do you?'
She blinked. 'Well of course.'
'What do you like best?'
When she didn't immediately reply, he elaborated, 'When I touch your breasts, when I suckle them, when I touch you between your thighs—
'When you come inside me.' She'd already been warm; she was getting hotter by the minute. 'When you're deep inside me and I can hold you there.'
A long pause greeted that. 'Interesting.'
She wasn't going to let the chance slide. 'What do you like best?'
After the most fleeting pause, he answered, 'Having you.'
'But how? Do you prefer me clothed, or naked?'
His laugh was short, gravelly. 'Naked.'
'And you? Clothed or naked?'
He appeared to have to think. Eventually, he said, 'Either. It depends. But if you want to know what I prefer above all else?'
'Yes.' She made the word quite definite.
'I prefer both of us naked, in our bed.'
Before she could ask her next question, he bent his head; his lips caressed her ear, then skated lower.
'Anytime, night… or day.'
The words hovered in the air about them; the afternoon was peaceful, silent, still. The atmosphere was heavy with the sun's warmth, weighted with unvoiced suggestion.
It was difficult to breathe, not just because his hands lay heavy at her waist, not only because she could sense his strength, and that overwhelming sexual power he commanded, already surrounding her. She was already his captive in that regard; the challenge had been issued, but there was no decision to be made — she had to answer, had to accede.
'Yes.' She breathed the word, felt his hands, his fingers, briefly tighten.
Then he raised his head; hands sliding from her, he stepped back. Took her hand as she turned to him. His gaze, dark as night, touched her eyes, lowered to her lips, then he glanced at the house.
'Come.'
He led her down the steps, along the path to the drive and around to the front door. Unhurriedly. Far from easing her unaccountably tight nerves, his apparent lack of urgency only wound her tighter. His attitude was one of having the right, and the whole afternoon, to do with her whatever he wished.
As, indeed, he did.
They entered the front hall and heard distant voices — servants working in the cool of the house, busy and cheerful — but as they ascended the stairs, all sounds fell away.
Silence engulfed them; they neared their room and the world retreated.
This house was his, she its mistress. It was indeed their bastion, its walls designed to protect and nurture them. He opened the door, drew her into their room, shut the door behind them. The snip of the lock was a soft echo, a note signaling intent.
The curtains were drawn against the heat and the sun. Golden light filtered through, illuminating a haven of stillness, not hot, not cool. Theirs.
Amelia walked to the bed, stopped, and glanced back.
Luc followed, but halted a yard away. He shrugged out of his coat, dropped it, then started on the buttons of his shirt.
His eyes held hers. With a faint arching of one brow, she followed his lead.
By the time her chemise hit the floor, he was already naked, lying stretched on the bed, leaning on one elbow watching her. He'd pulled the covers to the bed's foot, dispensing with most of the pillows, leaving a wide expanse of silk sheet.
Stepping around the bed, she ran her gaze from his bare calves to his shoulders. Her lips curved; she
