Page 20 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

T he sky was awash in tender dawn hues as Thomas emerged from the stall where the mare had given birth. As he stood there, the crisp morning air wrapped around him, carrying the faint scent of fresh hay mingled with the earthy aroma of the stable. The warmth of the newborn foal brushing against his hand lingered, a reminder of life’s perpetual cycle. It was an event he’d witnessed countless times, yet today it stirred something deeper within him. Watching the foal struggle to stand on wobbly legs, he couldn’t ignore the parallel to his own life.

His line would not continue with horses alone. For years, they had been his sole focus, the creatures understanding his unspoken words and sharing his quiet moments. But now, with Ashley’s laughter echoing faintly from the house, he realized his priorities were shifting. Not away from the horses—no, they were a part of him—but it was as if there was suddenly room for more.

Ashley’s presence in his life had awakened a desire for something beyond the realm of races and thoroughbreds. He imagined a future where her laughter filled not just fleeting mornings but entire days, a life where their bond grew as naturally as the foal finding its feet. The thought warmed him more than the rising sun ever could.

Standing there, surrounded by the gentle sounds of the waking world, Thomas felt an unfamiliar but welcome sense of expansion within his chest. There was space now for dreams he’d never dared to dream and for a life where Ashley was by his side, sharing in both the quiet and the chaos of his days.

Don’t be too greedy.

But he was. He wanted it all.

The crisp air filled his lungs, keeping him grounded to some extent. He’d spent the night with the foal, carefully watching over the baby and its mother. Yet, despite the magic of newborn life, it was Ashley who filled his thoughts, gnawing at him with questions he couldn’t shake. What else would this spring bring besides this new wave of feelings?

He dipped a cloth into the bucket left by one of the stable hands, the cold water jolting his senses as he splashed it over his face and bare torso, hoping to cool the pang of pressing impatience that wouldn’t let him be. Had he crossed some invisible line? Been too open, too eager?

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He thought of Paisley’s ominous note. Damn bastard. He didn’t believe it was any more than a tactic to rattle him.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, though it was impossible to shake the persistent image of her face from his mind. But as if the mere thought had conjured her, she appeared just beyond the stable doors in a frilly blue dress the color of the little forget-me-nots dotting his estate. Just like the flowers, he wanted Ashley everywhere. He’d lay his estate at her feet if it meant wooing her, for he didn’t know how to bare his heart more than he had. He didn’t understand but wanted to, for her gaze held an expression he couldn’t quite recognize, something he’d never seen from her before.

Yet still breathtaking.

“Ashley.” Her name slipped from his lips, his pulse quickening.

“Did you sleep in the stables?” Her gaze flickered over his torso, lingering a bit before lifting back to meet his eyes.

His lips almost twitched.

“I’ve been occupied. My apologies if I’ve been a poor host,” he said, snatching up a towel and slinging it over his shoulder.

“You haven’t,” she replied softly, her eyes locking onto his, unwavering. “You’ve allowed me time to welcome my friends.”

“That’s a generous way to put it. But as the future countess, you may well entertain whomever you wish.” Did that sound as haughty and stupid to her as it had in his head?

Do better, Thomas.

He took a careful step forward, inhaling deeply. Communicate—that had been one of the pieces of advice from his cook, hadn’t it? It was worth a try. “Have I made you uncomfortable in any way?” He hoped he didn’t sound too insecure because he felt like a green boy out of his depth.

“Why would you ask me that?”

He arched a brow. “It seems that you’ve been avoiding me, unless I’ve misunderstood.” Thomas combed a hand through his hair, studying her, and hoping he had misunderstood.

Her lip caught in hesitation before she shook her head, a hint of a smile breaking through. “You’ve not misunderstood, and yet I sense you have also misunderstood.”

Thomas stilled, thrown by the contradiction. “So…you have been avoiding me?”

“I won’t deny it,” she said simply. “But I can assure you that you’ve misunderstood the reason.”

Thomas took a step closer. “And what is this reason?”

She brushed a fingertip over her nose, then tilted her head, her gaze steady on him. “The pace at which we’re moving.”

Thomas stilled. “Is it too fast?”

“It’s both too fast and too slow,” she said, her voice growing softer, but no less certain.

Bloody hell. What was he supposed to make of that? “Well, that’s…quite the conundrum,” he said, his voice low, as if to contain the feelings that were stirring dangerously close to the surface. He wanted to get closer, to feel her near. He wanted to possess . He wanted to be as greedy as she allowed.

“Conundrum?” She laughed. “Interesting that you would use this word.”

“How so?”

“It’s the word I’ve attached to you.”

She had? What made her believe him to be a conundrum? Because of the pace? “Well, I don’t see a problem with this conundrum.”

“Oh?” Her breath hitched, the single syllable laden with curiosity and something else—something that made his pulse quicken.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Ashley, love, I feel exactly the same way.”

You do? flashed in her widened eyes. “You mean we’re moving both too fast and too slow?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t hold back his grin.

She laughed, then shook her head as if baffled by him. “Now I’m a little uncertain of what to say next.”

He smiled, tipping his head. “Somehow, I doubt that’s true.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why does it feel like you’re in the mood for a faster pace at the moment?”

Mrs. White had said to keep it simple. Honesty was the simplest form of communication, wasn’t it?

“Because I am.” His eyes bore into hers. He wanted to bridge the distance he sensed between them. “I’m in the mood to be greedy.”

“Greedy?”

He studied her, the morning light catching the brilliant blue of her eyes. “Have you ever been so greedy that you wanted to think only of yourself and no one else? Even for just a moment,” he said, his voice growing more intense. He cupped her cheek. “Or a morning?”

“I have.” No hesitation. “I feel that way right now.”

“Then shall we both be greedy?” Thomas held his breath, waiting.

She glanced over her shoulder to the stable yard and back to him, as if considering the likelihood of watchful eyes. But she seemed to dismiss the thought as quickly as it had come, and, just for a second, tilted her cheek into his palm.

“This greediness…would it include something between what we’ve done already and something that we have yet to do?” Her voice dropped, filled with curiosity that seemed to mirror his. The spark he’d come to love entered her eyes again.

“You sound as if you might want to test those boundaries.”

She looked up, lips twitching. “And if I did?”

He chuckled, feeling his pulse thunder in response. “Then trust me,” he said simply, his hand finding hers, their fingers interlacing as naturally as breathing. “Trust that I will always cherish you, always respect the boundaries we set together. Trust that my admiration for you is vast enough to wait. Or not. I am at the mercy of your pace.”

“Trust…” Her voice softened, as if testing the sound of it in her mind. For a moment, she hesitated, but then determination settled her features as she squeezed his hand, her eyes shimmering. “What if you should not trust me?”

“What if I shouldn’t trust clouds from blocking the sun and pouring rain over the lands? I don’t live in terms of what-ifs, love. Why not just enjoy the moment?”

“Then…” A bright smile spread across her face. “Then let’s be greedy.”

Bloody hell, yes.

Thomas leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers in the lightest of kisses. The day was waking up, and so, it seemed, was his heart.

*

Ashley’s lips tingled with warmth and anticipation as Linsey kissed her. I am doing it again, she thought fleetingly. She hadn’t come here for this—but with this man, her resolve seemed to shatter like glass with the barest touch.

Not the barest touch.

All night, she had paced the floor of her chamber, waiting for him to return from the stables. She had listened for any sound in the hall, her eyes fixed on the stable yard, where a lone flickering light had betrayed his vigil. When the dawn broke in a sliver on the horizon, she made up her mind: if he wouldn’t come to her, she’d find him.

But before entering the stables, her purpose had nearly flown right out of her mind. There he was, splashing cold water over his face and chest, looking like some ancient, sculpted Adonis brought to life, oblivious to the torment that had kept her awake.

And what a sight.

Her annoyance with him, so calm and unbothered while she’d been in turmoil, coiled tighter in her chest. Yet her heart still fluttered at the sight of him, so real and so maddeningly at ease. So when he spoke of being greedy, of wanting to be selfish just this once, it felt like her carefully guarded restraint incinerated. Poof!

Whatever purpose she’d come with seemed to dissolve in the heat between them. She reached up, pushing her hands into his already tousled hair, and pulled him closer.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but holy saints, it was the first time her whole body felt this on fire. Every inch of her absorbed the feel of him, all solid muscle and intensity. She’d never expected to like this man, let alone be so thoroughly swept away by him.

You are in so much trouble, Ashley.

But oh, trouble had never felt this good.

And the man could kiss .

His mouth claimed hers with a hunger that made her toes curl, as though they were the last two people left in the world. As though nothing mattered except for them, this moment. Even the snorting of the horses and the sharp scent of hay couldn’t pierce the spell. She felt completely, deliciously lost.

He drew back, his lips hovering close to hers, his voice a low murmur. “Do you wish to slow the pace?”

“Just keep kissing me,” she managed, breathless.

Let’s be greedy.

She’d come to tell him the truth, to warn him before the Duke of Paisley could twist it to his advantage. But that need was smothered in the heat of his touch, her body, perhaps even a bit of her heart, screaming louder than her mind. Her hands left his hair to explore the bare muscles of his back, her fingertips grazing the strong lines beneath his skin, cherishing every inch she could reach.

Tendons rippled beneath her fingers.

She suddenly found herself being lifted. With a gasp, her arms circled his neck as he carried her to a bundle of hay, sitting down with her cradling his lap, lips never leaving hers as he continued to devour her.

He gathered her closer, pressing her flush against him. Ah, his skin. So warm. So solid. She could feel his desire growing, and a shred of reason sparked in her mind. Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, she inhaled deeply. “Breathing is important, you know.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he whispered, his eyes flashing. “No time for breathing on my end.”

She laughed softly. “I’d rather not be the death of you. Tell me, is this where the pace slows just before ruin?”

“There’s much more.” He groaned, shifting slightly. “But if we go much further, I might not stop. And just so that you are aware, love, there is no ruin in my arms.”

Oh, but that was precisely where her ruin lay. “Kissing is such a temptation for you?”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s already testing my control.”

Her grin turned wicked. “Men, so easily undone.”

“And how would you know?” His hands tightened around her, his tone low.

“It’s the glint in your eyes,” she teased, tracing her fingers lightly along his neck.

A deep, shaky breath escaped him. “You enjoy playing with fire.”

“I enjoy you,” she replied, her voice a soft purr. She rested her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself. “We can slow the pace, if that’s what you’d prefer… A more mellow pace.”

His gaze darkened. “Isn’t this what you came here for?” She glanced at the cold-water pump.

She had come for a conversation, yes, but the meaning of it had slipped further from her grasp with each embrace. “Talking requires, well, it requires distance.” She shifted slightly, smirking. “Hard to manage that here.”

He leaned against the trough and she was all but on his lap. “Do you want to leave?”

“No,” she murmured, nestling closer. “This is rather comfortable, yet also a bit uncomfortable.”

“Full of contradictions today, aren’t you?”

“It’s a special talent for us women.”

A low chuckle rumbled from him. “You’re set on snapping my control, aren’t you?”

She laughed. “And what gives you that impression?”

“Your eyes,” he replied, his tone softening. “No man could mistake the glint of mischief in them.”

Her smile turned impish, and a perceptible note of said mischievousness rose in her. “Men are so easily unstrung.”

His hands spanned her waist, giving a gentle squeeze. “There it is again. Men, as if I’m not here.”

“Women too.”

“Then why don’t I believe you’re just like them?”

“Do I seem like a marble statue to you? Even those shatter when they fall.”

“No, indeed. I only mean that I see a strength in you that’s rare.”

Her grin widened. “Well, I am one of a kind.”

“That, you are.”

She leaned in close, their noses almost touching. “Why aren’t you kissing me anymore?”

He arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting up. “You were the one complaining about air.”

“I’ve gotten my fill.” Now, I want more of you. Ashley ignored the other, more practical voice in her head. The thought of confessing her purpose now, with his arms wrapped around her, felt absurd. Yes, if ever there was a time to slow the pace and have a conversation, this would be the moment. But she’d long since lost the thread of the original conversation she’d intended to have. Once he knew her true motives, he’d never look at her the same again—if at all.

This is not the time.

She wanted this moment for herself, a little longer. Looking into his intense eyes, she banished the impulse to confess, deciding to be a bit greedier.

“Should we move somewhere a bit more private?”

Later, she’d tell him later.