When one’s mind was diverted, it was impossible to be creative. And Eva had been plagued by a host of distractions of late. “You need inspiration, that is all.”
“That’s easy to say.”
Yes, he knew what it was like to sit at a desk, fingers stained with ink, surrounded by a mound of crumpled paper.
“You could write about a maid who is manipulated by her employer’s brother, and so she sets out to ruin him by clever means. Write a terrifying tale of consequences.”
“A tale of consequences,” she mused. The sudden flash in her eyes said he had piqued her interest. “Yes. It could be a lesson to all gentlemen that one should never underestimate a female opponent.”
“Indeed.” There were many ways to help unfortunate members of society. A poet or novelist had the perfect opportunity to enlighten the upper echelons. “If the message saves one poor maid from suffering Kathleen’s experience, it will be worth the effort.”
“You’re right,” she said, her countenance brightening. “What would I do without you?”
What would he do without her was more to the point.
The thought roused a deep-rooted insecurity. To have happiness snatched from one’s grasp caused unbearable pain, tremendous heartache. Every instinct advised he learn from history. But if working with Cole had taught him anything, it was that a life spent living in the past was a life filled with bitterness. The need to help his friend break the tragic cycle was the reason he had insisted on Lady Adair playing chaperone.
“Hopefully, you’ll never have to face that dilemma,” he said in the lighthearted way that failed to reveal his innermost fears.
Indeed, he was suddenly captured by the beauty of the moment. The sweet smell of roses permeated the air. The verdant canopy offered an idyllic haven where a man might indulge his passions. The incredible woman seated next to him on the blanket roused a yearning he needed to satisfy. Satisfy now if she was willing.
“Shall I read a poem?” He took the green leather-bound book from beside the basket. “Is there one you prefer?”
She looked to his mouth and then into his eyes. “It’s hard to choose. I find The Path to Nirvana quite intriguing.”
Minx!
Did she have a full grasp of its meaning? he wondered.
“The Path to Nirvana,” he repeated, thrilled by her choice. “What do you suppose it reveals about my innermost desires, Miss Dunn?”
She moistened her lips, bit down on the plump, pink flesh he was eager to suck. “My godfather said that the maiden riding the stallion to Nirvana is a metaphor for an intimate act.”
Thomas Becker had gone down another notch in Noah’s estimation, not because he was wrong. “And Mr Becker thought that an appropriate conversation to have with his charge?”
“Not at all.” The breeze whipped loose strands of hair across her face, and she laughed as she brushed them back. “He read it to his mistress. I heard him say it was a poem about a path to heightened pleasure. A poem about ecstasy.”
Fool!
“It is a poem about freedom. Freedom from constraints, yes. Strong men are happy to relinquish control. But Nirvana is a place free from worry and external pain.” A place he’d longed to visit. Indeed, he had entered the gates of paradise when nestled between Eva Dunn’s soft thighs.
She considered his words for a moment. “So, left without guidance, the stallion would simply stand in the meadow and eat the sweet grass. He would wander idly.”
“Precisely.” Oh, she understood him so well. “Instead, he is taken to paradise by the only maiden who knows the way.”
Eva swallowed visibly. “The maiden rides without a saddle. She rides bareback.”
“Because he trusts her, and longs for the intimate connection.”
“She feels every hard muscle moving between her sweat-soaked thighs.”
Hell! Eva knew exactly what to say to raise a reaction. “It takes a special maiden to command such power.” He drew his gaze down her body, noted her erect nipples pushing against the simple sprig muslin. “It takes a woman like you, Eva.”
She stroked the elegant column of her throat as if hot, parched. “This is an interesting conversation, though I have never been more aroused than I am at this moment.”
Noah was aroused, too. His cock was so hard it was about to burst from his breeches. “Then ride me, love. Take me to Nirvana.”
His provocative invitation brought a sensual glint to her eyes. “You believe I know the way?”
“I know you do.”
She laughed. “Then hurry, make space.” Her urgency was evident in every shallow breath.
She did not need to tell him twice.
In a mad flurry of activity, he wrapped the pie in the muslin cloth and placed it in the basket. An excitable energy charged the air as she handed him the slab of cake, quickly gathered the plates and made room on the blanket. He snatched the wine bottle, was about to force the cork into the neck when she grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a swig.
“Don’t be shy,” he teased, though he loved that she felt free enough to express herself. “May I have some?” She offered him the bottle, but he shook his head. “I want to drink from your mouth, Eva.”
Her eyes widened. She shuffled closer, took another sip, came up on her knees and kissed him. The rich burgundy trickled into his mouth, but he was more intoxicated by her than he was the wine.
She pulled back, the seam of her lips stained red. “Would you care for more, Mr Ashwood?”
“You know damn well I would.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to his body. There was no time for slow coaxing, for being gentle. With a surge of carnal lust, he penetrated her lips and mated with her mouth.
Hunger clawed at his insides.
Urgent. Restless.
Every sweep of her tongue hardened his cock. The need to lay her down
