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CHAPTER FOUR

Ava raised her skirt when she stepped into the shallows at the edge of the pond, but to no avail.

Her hem dragged as it touched the water, and the cotton lace sucked up the damp.

‘Drat.’ She tugged it a little higher. ‘I suppose what’s done now is done.

’ She leant forwards and plucked a feather from the reeds, tucking it into the small bag with the rest of her finds. ‘Maybe just one more.’

Ava slung the small pouch over her shoulder.

She hiked her skirts even higher, then waded out between the reeds.

Cold and crisp, the pond water inched along her calves until it sent goosebumps over her thighs and raised every hair along her back, until even her scalp tingled with the sensation.

Mud squelched between her toes, and the layer beneath oozed colder than that first step on the pond’s floor, making her shudder again.

‘Positively indecent. Any higher, and I will need to call the vicar.’

Ava shrieked. Her feet slipped against the moss, and she landed, bottom first, in the water, all the while juggling her pouch to keep it out of danger.

The white of her skirt darkened as it billowed around her like a cloud, then sunk beneath the surface as the water weighed it down.

‘Elliot!’ she cried as she dragged herself to the edge of the pond.

‘Look what you’ve done. I will need to go back to the house to change before Mr Webb sees me.

’ Her damp skirts stuck to her legs, and with a lurch, Ava stumbled onto the grass. ‘Pass me my coat.’

‘Return to the house dripping wet? Are you brave enough to face Mrs Turner after trailing mud and pond water through her house?’

‘Oh, heavens.’ Ava pressed her palms against her cheeks. Mrs Turner was lovely, really, but she controlled every inch of the manor with an iron rod. Ava was sure even the sunbeams bent to please her. ‘She would have me flayed.’

‘I have a better idea. Slip off your skirts. I’ll hang them over the fence. They will dry in no time in the sun.’

Ava bit her lip. He was right, of course.

It was a warm day, the sort that stubbornly defied the approaching end of spring, and the breeze would finish what the sunbeams didn’t.

With a quick look across the lawn and the formal gardens to where the manor rose, shielded by lines of trees, Ava untied her skirts.

She wiggled them over her hips and passed them into Elliot’s waiting, outstretched hand.

He grasped them and shook them out with a smirk, then slipped between the trailing willow vines.

Through the leaves, she watched him fold her skirt and then her petticoat over the rail.

He tugged at both until they hung straight.

A gentleman would have waited beside the rail for them to dry, but Elliot was no gentleman, and he crept back beneath the leafy veil to join her in the shadows.

Water dripped from her chemise hem, and as it snaked along her legs, Ava shivered.

Without a word, Elliot pulled off his own coat and dropped it over her shoulders.

Its heavy wool fell to halfway down her thighs, rich with his life, smoke, and hustle.

Then Elliot ran his palms along her arms, and the chill dispersed.

He stood so close she could make out his tiniest features. A small patch of stubble near his ear that he had missed in shaving, a pale scar across his cheek. So faint, but with the sunlight slipping through in thin shafts, it streaked vivid, a pure white line against his soft skin. She touched it.

‘Damn nightingale,’ he said, not shifting his eyes from her.

‘My grandmother kept it in a cage. When it stopped singing, she was going to have its eyes burnt. She’d heard that makes them sing again.

I decided to liberate it. But when I went to release it from the window, the stupid bird panicked and went the wrong way.

It gave me this as a souvenir, then flew off without even a chirp of thanks. ’

‘I’m sure it didn’t know what it was doing.’ Ava pushed herself to her tiptoes and kissed the mark. ‘And I’m sure it remembers you and is grateful for its freedom.’

‘Ava, Ava…’ Elliot hooked a finger under her chin. Like before, that hungry gleam flashed in his eyes. ‘When did you grow up?’

‘I am twenty-two.’ She tried to look down, but his finger kept her chin raised. ‘I’ve seen two parents to the grave. I have been grown up for far longer than I wish.’

‘I am at fault then, as I have been blind.’ His cheek skimmed hers. A warm exhalation blossomed over her skin and set it to gooseflesh again. ‘Has your fiancé kissed you?’

‘I told you, he is not my fiancé, as he wants to ensure that the paperwork is sound and that I am what he is wanting in a?—’

‘Has he kissed you?’ Elliot shuffled so close his entire length pressed against hers.

Warm desire trickled through her veins, as slow as honey.

It dripped, heavy and sweet, through her chest, into her belly.

From there it seemed to spark until her body gleamed amber with light and want.

She must be one of so many, but oh, how glorious to be in his thrall…

and before she could answer no , Elliot crowded her and claimed her mouth with his.

Warm, so soft, so damn knowing—Elliot kissed her like he owned her.

And he did, from her toes curling in the mud, to her weakening knees and her cheeks that flushed.

He held her tighter and moved a little deeper.

A small flick against her lips felt like a request, and Ava parted them in reply.

Then his tongue glided over hers and she tentatively moved in sync with him.

Weakling. She should tell him to stop, but she had been powerless in his presence for as long as time.

She did not want him to stop. She wanted to pause the sun’s descent and play folly in his attention forever.

She was a swan who had fallen in love with a hunter who could destroy her with a single shot if he so fancied—and she’d fall at his feet in grateful sacrifice.

Silk whispered in invitation as she loosened his tie and unfastened his top button, then the next.

He groaned when she spread his collar with her thumb and forefinger, revealing the slight rise of his pectorals, the dip of his breastbone, the delicate hollow at the base of his neck.

His throat bobbed, and he swallowed when Ava’s lips feathered over the depression, chasing his shallow breath.

She licked him there, then planted an open-mouthed kiss on his skin.

‘Elliot?’

‘Hmm?’ He drew her upwards and kissed the edge of her lips.

‘Give me a sinful memory. Something to contemplate when I am kept indoors on Sundays.’

She tasted the length of his neck, tracing along his chin, then ran her tongue over his lips.

Elliot held her tight, even tighter as he kissed her to the ground.

He tugged his coat flat, so that when she laid back, she didn’t touch the dirt.

Another light kiss, and he slipped the button beneath her chin.

‘Close your eyes,’ he ordered.

Ava obeyed. Another few buttons came undone, followed by a new sensation—she flinched at the light tickle across her collarbone.

‘Shh,’ Elliot hushed. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

The tickle came again, firmer and slower than before. A warmth flared beneath her skin, and a delicious flutter spread through her chest. Then further as she stretched her neck, as the touch trailed over her chin. Beneath her lips, but not across them. Swirling tiny circles on her cheek.

His breath came warm against her ear. ‘Unbutton your blouse.’

Trembling, stupid fingers. The buttons slipped as Ava fumbled to push them through each buttonhole. His delicate strokes followed the path of her fingers, tipped and teased over her chest, above her corset.

Finally—she’d unfastened her last button. Too entranced to move, she lay waiting, her hands still poised mid-air above her stomach.

‘Lace underwear,’ he growled. ‘I do like lace, but you need to take it off, too.’

‘You want me naked? Out here, in the open?’

‘We are a long way from the house. Hidden by the trees. No one can see us. Who comes looking for you, little robin? Who comes looking for me?’ He kissed her again. ‘Let me see the woman you’ve become.’

Like a feather drifting over the ponds surface, she felt lazy and untethered. Did his expression mirror the hunger in his voice? Ava opened her eyes. He lay above her, propped on one elbow with his fist against a cheek. In his other hand, he held…

‘My feathers.’ Panic pattered through her. ‘Don’t damage them. I need them.’

‘Your other feathers are safe. This one is for me.’ He brushed it down the bridge of her nose, awakening that same whispered sensation, soft and yearning. It sent tingles through her. ‘Undress for me. And keep your eyes closed.’

One last look. Ava drank him in, guzzled his expression, fixed it in her memory, then closed her eyes.

Elliot was a beast, taking women wherever he could, but that didn’t stop her from craving his attention.

She’d leave, and then she’d never have to see him lust after another woman again.

She could pretend it had been only her, and the spell would never be broken.

Her trembling hesitation quietened, and each hook on her corset came free without resistance.

She slipped it off her body, sat up to draw her chemise over her head, then lay back, bare skin against the satin lining of his coat.

She rested there for what felt like eternity until she blinked a glimpse through her lashes.

‘I said close your eyes.’ His voice scratched over the words, sharp and annoyed. ‘Or I will take my coat and leave you here.’