Page 21 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
It was too much to think about. Neither man had proposed. While Owen had hinted at doing so, he hadn’t said the words yet. Logic said she should accept the first man to ask, since she couldn’t know for certain the other man planned to propose. She certainly couldn’t ask the first man to wait while she asked the other man his intentions.
So, she had her decision. She’d accept the first offer for her hand.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Simon had sent a note around inviting Xenia to join him on a picnic and had packed a basket and blanket into his curricle, so there’d be no need for a servant to accompany them. No need for anyone to be present while they rolled about naked under the sun. He knew he was taking advantage of the class difference between them—Xenia had no maid to chaperone her. He wouldn’t suggest her parents might be eager for a compromising situation that would call for an engagement, but they’d surely celebrate such a marriage if it happened.
His grandfather, on the other hand, might throw a fit. Since there were income-bearing properties entailed on the earldom, and Simon was the heir apparent, the earl had nothing to threaten him with. Simon also had income from his maternal grandfather’s will, more than enough to support a family until such time his grandfather died. And there was no love lost between him and the old man. Nothing the earl could threaten him with would force him to not marry Xenia.
In truth, there was only one thing keeping him from speaking to Xenia’s father now. His friendship with Owen. While his friend hadn’t mentioned his intentions, Simon saw the way he looked at Xenia. Gone was the childlike innocence in his eye, and the passion that replaced it was unlike the lust visible around other young women. Owen was in love. And Simon couldn’t bring himself to break his friend’s heart.
Simon was determined to find a solution that would please the three of them.
“Lord Kinnerton, dear boy!” Mrs. Arbuckle beamed from behind the counter when Simon entered the bakery, dusting flour from her hands onto her apron. Her eyes, so like Xenia’s, twinkled with unspoken delight as she caught sight of him. “Here to collect our Xenia, are you? She’ll be just a moment.”
Her knowing smile hinted at dreams of a union between her daughter and him, a match that would undoubtedly please any mother in England. Simon, ever the gentleman, offered a polite nod, his lips sealed on matters of the heart. He was here for a picnic with Xenia—nothing more, nothing less—or so he allowed Mrs. Arbuckle to believe.
“Thank you, Mrs. Arbuckle. I can wait.”
When Xenia entered the shop, Simon’s heart stuttered. She’d curled the strands about her face that usually came free of their pins, and it framed her beauty. Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her eyes brighter, and her lips... well, they were unchanged but called out to him to nibble them. “You look lovely,” he said when he finally found his voice.
She thanked him and walked out with him to his curricle.
He took her to a secluded meadow outside the town’s gentle bustle. Pride swelled within him as he unveiled the contents of the picnic basket after spreading the blanket on a patch of grass he trampled down. His preparation had been meticulous, not to impress her but to please her appetite. An array of cheeses, meats, and fruits lay nestled among fresh-baked loaves from her parents’ bakery. He’d chosen each item for its vibrant hue and inviting aroma—the ripe red strawberries, the rich amber honey, and the deep purple of the blackberries.
After they sat, he placed a plump strawberry to her lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as she took a delicate bite. The juice trickled down her chin, and she laughed—a clear, melodious sound that intertwined with the whispering leaves above them.
He reached out with a white linen napkin, dabbing at the sweet droplet. “Careful now, we can’t have you staining your lovely gown.”
Xenia playfully swatted his hand away, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Perhaps I should simply remove my gown.”
His cock twitched, and he cleared his throat to allow air into his frozen lungs. “If you do that, we might forget to eat this wonderful meal.”
Her look suggested she wouldn’t mind missing the food, but she picked up a wedge of cheese and took a bite. As if to taunt him, she swiped her tongue across the seam.
Then she took up the jar of blackcurrant jam, spooning a generous dollop to put onto a scone, but the jam dripped, landing on her other hand with a plop. She raised her finger, ready to lick it off, but Simon was quicker.
“Allow me,” he said, taking her hand in his. His mouth closed over her fingertip, swirling his tongue around her finger.
Her breath caught as she watched, her lips parting at the sight of him lavishing attention on her finger. She pushed deeper between his lips and withdrew to the tip, as if she fucked his mouth. His groin tightened as he imagined his cock sliding into her mouth.
He released her finger slowly, and for a moment he couldn’t look away from her. Then something snapped inside him. With a deliberate slowness, he began pushing aside the remnants of their picnic—a feast forgotten in the wake of a hunger far more pressing. She joined him and they quickly cleared the blanket.
“Come closer,” Simon whispered when they finished. He traced the soft skin exposed by her neckline, venturing lower over the ripe mounds of flesh with each stroke.
Her breath hitched, and she tilted her head back, offering herself to him. His mouth found the tender hollow at the base of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin, savoring the pulse that beat there.
“Oh, my,” she breathed out, her hands exploring the breadth of his shoulders, slipping underneath his coat. There was an urgency in her touch that matched his own need.
Simon’s hands roamed over her curves with a reverence and hunger, his fingers tracing every dip and swell. Unable to wait any longer, he tugged to lift her gown, which she helped him take off completely. She shed her shoes and stockings just as quickly, while he tore off his own clothes.
Stretching out beside her, he kissed her with all the built-up passion he felt for her, kneading his lips against her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He tasted the sweetness of the fruit she’d eaten, which made him hungry for another sweet taste he’d enjoyed before.
When his skilled fingers delved between her thighs, spreading her moisture with a delicate touch, Xenia arched into him, a wordless cry escaping her lips. The sensation was overwhelming, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.
He scooted down on the blanket, nestling between her thighs. He toyed with her bottom while inhaling the scent of her cunny, teasing and touching with a mix of playfulness and fervency that left no doubt of his intentions. She spread her legs wider, and he groaned. “We should always make love in the sunlight.”
Simon wanted to tease and tantalize her, but he was too hungry not to just dive in. He dragged the flat of his tongue over her entire length, savoring her taste. She was more than ready for him, which pleased him immensely. He loved how much she enjoyed what he did to her. It made him want to do more.