Page 20 of A Duke to Undo her (The Husband Hunt #1)

Chapter Fifteen

“Come along, Apollo, just a little further,” Josephine tried to coax the unhappy horse. “I’m sure we must find the path again soon.”

The horse was limping slightly, one of his front hooves clearly bothering him, and Josephine had not attempted to remount after her earlier fall.

It had not been a serious accident, at least for her.

She had laughed as she rose from the mossy hillock where she had tumbled after the horse shied and then balked at the brief appearance of a badger.

Then, however, it became apparent that Apollo had hurt one of his feet, and more seriously, that they had lost the path they had been following.

Josephine had tried to retrace their steps and find it but everything looked the same.

Identical trees, patches of sun dappled grass and scatterings of forest flowers lay in every direction.

It now felt as though they had been walking for hours and she had the horrible suspicion that they might only have come in one big circle.

The only sounds were birdsong and the snuffling of small animals.

With some foreboding, Josephine remembered how big this forest had seemed when she first saw it from the coach and cold began to creep into her heart. Could she be lost here forever..?

At least she had a water bottle in her saddle bag and the small silver flask of brandy in her pocket, a drink which still made her pull a face when she she tasted it but always made her feel adventurous to carry.

In books, horses always knew their way home and often led the lost hero or heroine to safety.

Apollo however, seemed as baffled as Josephine, and far more nervous, constantly starting or snuffling against her shoulder for comfort.

When he raised his head and neighed, she only sighed and stopped to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t take on so, Apollo. At least you have been in these woods before, unlike me.”

Then her ears heard an answering neigh from another horse and her ears pricked up.

“Help! We’re over here! My horse has gone lame. Help!”

To her great relief, as she called out, the regular sound of a horse trotting across the forest floor came closer and closer. She hoped it was Benedict and they could make a great joke of her adventure before returning to the house. The picnic would doubtless be long finished by now.

Then, a large grey stallion emerged through the trees with the Duke of Ashbourne on its back, his dark hair and stock more unruly than ever but his face aglow with relief.

His darkly handsome face was full of concern and Josephine’s heart did the gymnastics it always performed at his appearance. Her belly also ached with a sensation that was not pain as she remembered the last time she had been alone with this man, lying in pleasured abandon across his lap…

“Thank God!” the duke said jumping down and tying his horse to a tree. “What happened, Lady Josephine? Are you hurt?”

He came very close and looked her over for any hurts even as Josephine shook her head.

He even took her hands in his and examined them, this simple contact causing a distinct and dangerous throbbing between her legs.

She had expected disapproval and perhaps a stern telling-off but these things seemed far from the duke’s mind.

“Thank God!” he said again, his shoulders relaxing as he released her hands.

“Apollo has hurt one of his feet,” Josephine began to explain. “He took fright at a badger and threw me off but I only landed in moss. I don’t know if he’s bruised himself or stood on something, but I didn’t like to ride him and we lost the path. I think we’ve been wandering for hours.”

As she talked, the duke was already examining the horse’s feet, quickly identifying the one that made Apollo flinch.

Holding the hoof firmly between his knees, he took out a pocket knife and dug something out with a quick sure movement.

Apollo neighed in protest but then seemed to put down his foot more easily once he was released.

“He had a thorn in his foot,” said Cassius. “It should really be cleaned properly in case of infection but we’ll have to get him back to the stables for that…”

The duke stopped as Josephine passed him water, brandy and a handkerchief.

“Would this help?” she offered.

A few minutes later, the horse had a clean and partly bandaged hoof and the duke was regarding both Josephine and Apollo critically as though deciding what to do next.

“We’ll rest him for a few minutes and see how he walks. Benedict is a damned fool for putting you on Apollo for a steeplechase and then sending you back alone through the woods. He’s a good horse, but he has some faults, including being afraid of badgers.”

The Duke of Ashbourne's initial burst of anger against Benedict turned into one of those smiles that made his face so handsome that Josephine could hardly breathe. She sat down on the grass and he joined her there.

“You mustn’t blame Benedict,” Josephine had to tell him in all fairness. “I chose Apollo myself. I remembered that Benedict was riding him when we first met in the park. He was such a fine horse that I asked for him specifically this morning. Your brother only did as I asked.”

“Well, Benedict should have said no to you. Apollo is certainly pretty and good-natured but he wasn’t the right mount for you, Lady Josephine.”

Here, the duke stopped and flushed slightly, whether at his own words or Josephine’s gaze, she didn’t know.

Even out here in the woods, that same magnetic energy seemed to draw her to this man, and the more disheveled and disordered they were, the stronger the pull became.

She could not seem to look away from him.

Here in the woods too, there was no question of either of them leaving. In this case, how would such a thing end? Josephine’s mind turned sharply from this question.

“You’re injured,” she observed now that his head was turned, seeing a long cut across one side of his face.

“It was just a scrape from a tree branch,” the duke said dismissively. “I should have ridden lower in the saddle through those trees but I was looking out for you. What on earth are you doing now?”

Josephine had raised her riding habit and was ripping the light petticoat beneath, tearing off a piece of clean, white fabric.

Pouring on some brandy from her pocket, she knelt beside the duke and dabbed at the cut on his face.

He seemed both astonished and fascinated but did not try to stop her, and after a few moments, he laughed.

“We’ve already used my handkerchief on the horse,” Josephine explained, her actions being the most obvious thing in the world to her mind, although she could see the duke’s surprise. “I don’t want your cut to get infected either, so keep still while I clean it.”

“That stings and tickles,” he told her with a chuckle as she proceeded. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“The Fated Lovers of Fentimore, I think, although I might have seen it in another book before that. When Sir Edmund Venner rescues Lady Jane Tremayne from the pirates, she cleans his sword wound with her petticoat and bottle of rum.”

“What happens next in this story?” he asked her, taking the cloth and brandy from her hands and discarding them on the grass. “Shall I guess?”

Before Josephine could answer, she was in the duke’s arms again, his mouth on hers and the rest of the world fading into meaningless noise against the singing of her blood.

Cassius Emerton’s hands roamed hungrily over her body within the sheath of her tightly buttoned riding habit, her breasts entirely inaccessible, although he kissed and stroked them passionately through the fabric, stoking their mutual excitement and frustration.

His whispers into Josephine’s ear between their kisses were arousing and more confusing than ever.

“…you drive me mad…God, if anything had happened…need you…kiss me…”

When the duke rolled above her, Josephine felt the pressing of that same hardness at his groin that had been there on his lap in the study. The thought of it sent a new heat coursing through her veins.

It was part of him, of course. She knew enough to know that it was the part that made him a man. Now she was learning that it made itself most evident in passionate embrace.

“Cassius,” she moaned as his hand reached under her skirts and drew up one of her legs to his waist, caressing her naked thigh above the garter of her stocking as he kissed her again. “Oh, Cassius.”

Josephine gave little judders of consternation and enjoyment as the duke caressed both of her thighs and then unexpectedly tossed up her skirts, baring her most intimate parts to the air and his eyes, and shifting himself down her body.

Most shocking of all, he pressed a kiss into the damp triangle of fur under her belly and she felt his tongue briefly touch against her flesh.

Dear God, what was this he was now doing to her? The pleasure was searing and Josephine wanted more. Then a voice sounded, followed by the faint but approaching beat of horse hooves.

“Josephine!? Cassius!?”

They both froze. The duke recovered himself first, quickly drawing down Josephine’s skirts and pulling her to her feet. Their eyes met and held one another, deep green and deep blue, each full of forbidden longing.

“It’s Benedict,” he said in a low voice, stating what they both knew, before calling out to his brother. “Benedict! We’re over here! Benedict!”

“Cassius,” Josephine spoke his name again, without having her next words in hand.

Maybe she spoke it only for the pleasure of addressing him so intimately one more time out here before civilization returned to claim them both. The duke said nothing but reached out and caressed her face before Benedict and his horse became visible.

“Over here,” the duke called out again, his voice regretful as he withdrew his hand and took a step back from Josephine.