Bonfires blazed at both ends of the square, fanning the flames of her cravings, and she hastened on. She reached the edge of the grass, ready to head down the street to the vicarage, and she took a final glance at the gathering.
As she did, the crowd split, and on the other side of the square, standing alone and gazing back at her was the earl’s brother, Stephen Price. She hadn’t realized he’d attended, and he certainly hadn’t danced, or she’d have noticed.
Had he been looking for her? At the thought that he might have been, her pulse pounded with excitement.
In their odd meeting in the church, they’d shared secrets and sat in the pew holding hands. Nothing improper had occurred, but it had been very shocking and probably the most illicit deed she’d ever attempted.
She stared at him, mesmerized by how intently he was focused on her, and though it was strange, it seemed that Time had ceased its ticking. The party faded away, and there was just him and her and no one else in the universe.
Then the horde closed in and she lost sight of him. In that wild instant, she suffered a frantic impulse to push into the throng in a frenzied bid to locate him, but she didn’t.
What was wrong with her?
She blamed it on the full moon, on her advanced age and lengthy widowhood. An attractive man had merely smiled at her, and she was all aflutter!
She whipped away and rushed on, and the sounds of the merriment quickly waned. The village grew very quiet. To her dismay, she heard footsteps on the opposite side of the street, and she slowed and peeked over.
Stephen Price was there! He was shadowing her every stride! When she lagged, he lagged. When she hurried, he hurried too.
What was he doing? What could he want?
A voice in her mind shouted warnings. She was overcome by the worst feeling that an amazing, terrible collision was about to transpire, and once it did, she would never be the same.
He took a step toward her, then another and another, and she almost ran in panic. What would happen when he arrived?
He approached until they were toe to toe, and he slipped his hand into hers and led her down an alley. She made a feeble effort to drag her feet, but she swiftly relented and eagerly went along. Apparently, whatever he was planning, she couldn’t wait.
He halted at a small barn and entered, pulling her in after him. She nearly spoke, but he pressed a finger to her lips, urging silence. He searched for vagrants or a stable boy, and finding none, he proceeded to the rear and tumbled down into a mound of straw. He tugged her down with him.
For the briefest second, she resisted, but a moonbeam drifted in the window, shining on his raven black hair, his muscular physique, and she ceded the battle.
She rolled onto her back, as he stretched out atop her, and embarrassing as it was to admit, she bit down a purr of delight. He was large and heavy, and she welcomed his weight though she understood that she dare not show her enjoyment.
The sole part of her marriage that had been tolerable was the connubial acts her husband perpetrated in their marital bed. From the moment he’d first undressed her on their wedding night, she’d reveled in the decadency. But he’d been revolted by her wantonness.
Rapidly, she’d learned to be passive and still as he thrust away, but it had been so frustrating! She’d felt there should be more to it, and her body had agreed. Years had crawled by with her being raw and on edge. Her only respite had been the sporadic, furtive waves of pleasure that shot through her after their more vigorous couplings.
If her husband had ever discovered the peculiar episodes, his reprimands would have been even more harsh—perhaps even violent.
Surely Lt. Price wouldn’t be so cruel. During their short acquaintance, she’d deemed him to be kind and sympathetic. With a brother like Nicholas Price, he’d have to be!
If she exhibited an awkward physical thrill, he wouldn’t be appalled. She couldn’t bear it if he was.
He began kissing her and kissing her, and it was so stimulating, like nothing she’d encountered previously with her angry, tepid spouse. She couldn’t decide what to make of it.
Did people actually carry on like this? Was such conduct common? She had no idea.
The way her pious brother told it, this was how the whole world behaved, but Jo had never seen any evidence. She’d always considered it a depraved myth, the sort school boys spewed to impress one another, yet Lt. Price was no fable. He was very, very real, and he was definitely adept at inciting a woman’s passions.
His hands were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, while down below, his loins were crushed to hers and flexing in a steady rhythm. His hard rod was positioned at the vee of her thighs, and she was stunned that he was so blatant in allowing her to feel it.
She was exhilarated too. Imagine! She—plain, ordinary Jo Merrick—had aroused such an experienced, sophisticated fellow! While she wanted to respond, she didn’t know how.
His busy fingers had moved to her breasts. He was massaging them, pinching and twisting the nipples, and she started to shake. Her entire torso was quivering with restraint.
What to do? What to do? The question raced in her head. She couldn’t hide her titillation, but if she let go, how would he react?
He must have perceived her distress, for he drew away and frowned.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
To her horror, tears welled into her eyes.
“I’m ashamed,” she admitted.
“Of what? Of being here with me?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? Don’t tell me you buy into that twaddle your brother spouts about the wages of sin and fornication.”
“It’s not that. I’m just . . . just . . .”
She’d had many frank
