Page 11 of A Scandal In July

“Not easily,” he said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the problem. “Is there a ladder somewhere? In one of the gardener’s sheds?”

“We don’t have time for that. One of the other teams could come at any moment. What if I lift you up?” She threaded her fingers together to make a step. “I can give you a leg up, as if you were mounting a horse.”

He sent her a scoffing glance. “You wouldn’t be able to take my weight. I might hurt you.”

“Well then, why don’t you liftmeup?”

“That wouldn’t be much use. We’d only gain a few inches. Unless you sit on my shoulders.”

“Let’s do that then,” Lenore said.

Rhys’s eyes widened as if she’d said the most scandalous thing in Christendom. “You’re wearing skirts, Montgomery. To sit on my shoulders, you’d have to wrap your thighs around my head.”

Lenore rolled her eyes, even though the very thought of doing something so shocking made every cell in her body tingle.

“I know that. Breeches would be better, but it can’t be helped. I’m game if you are. Don’t you want that flag, Davies?”

The challenge was the perfect goad to poke him into action, but her cheeks heated as she waited for his response. Was she being too daring? Would he be disgusted by her wanton suggestion and call her a terrible hoyden?

And then his beautiful lips parted in a wicked grin, and her spirits lifted in relief. She’d always suspected he was as ready for an adventure as herself.

He crossed to stand directly under the tree, then bent down on one knee.

“Come here then.”

Lenore’s heart was pounding as she put her hand on his shoulder and looked down at him. If only he’d adopt this position to propose marriage to her.

“Right, now, put one foot on my bent leg, then hook your other knee over my shoulder.” His tone was one he’d doubtless used to command his troops, but all she could think about was that without his jacket, only the fine cotton of his shirt separated her palm from his skin.

His muscles twitched beneath her hand as he shifted his weight, and her mouth went dry.

“I’ve done this a hundred times,” she said, trying to focus. “On Caro or Lucy’s shoulders. How do you think we picked bananas and green coconuts when we were in the jungle?”

Rhys nodded. “Fair enough. Up you go.”

Her pulse rocketed as she bent her right leg over his broad shoulder. Her skirts hitched up, gathering in lilac pleats behind his neck, and he grasped the front of her shin to hold her steady. The heat of his strong fingers bled through the silk of her stocking.

She placed her right hand on his head and threw her other leg over his left shoulder, then let out a little shriek as she wobbled. His left hand caught her left shin, and he rose from his kneel with a fluid movement that was undeniably impressive. He was clearlymuchstronger that either Caro or Lucy—one of them usually had to help the other to stand with Lenore on their shoulders.

His hair was delightfully soft beneath her fingers, but her cheeks burned at the feel of his head nestled between her legs, so close to her womanly core.

The fabric of her skirts had ruched up to about knee-height, and her stockings were only visible to the knee—not even high enough for him to see her garters—but the knowledge that she was wearing nothing except her chemise and petticoats beneathher dress, that only a few layers of fabric lay between the skin of his jaw and the inside of her naked thigh, made her stomach somersault in dark delight.

A deep pulse of pleasure clenched her core.

“Reach up and grab the flag.”

His voice brought her back to the task at hand. She carefully released her grip on his hair and tightened her thighs around his ears to steady herself, as he handed her the butterfly net.

He gave a soft grunt of exertion. She reached up, pushing her heels against his chest as leverage to lift herself, and finally managed to scoop the little red pennant into the net.

“Got it!” She shouted. “First flag for us!”

She kept her balance as he slowly lowered himself back down, and climbed off his shoulders with the most elegant dismount she could manage. She stepped back and twitched her skirts back into place as he stood and turned to face her. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he wasn’t sweating in the heat. Perhaps he’d become accustomed to working in such warmer temperatures when he’d been in Portugal and Spain?

“Good job!” He grinned, and Lenore had to force herself not to throw herself into his arms for a celebratory hug. She handed him the flag instead.

“You hold this. Now, let’s get out of here. I’m rather hot.”