This ride was unlike any other. She could feel the stallion’s powerful muscles shift beneath her as the beast took flight, its massive hooves pounding into the dirt. Exhilaration rushed through her veins as she closed her eyes and let the wind tease her hair but it was the solid male at her back that made her heart pulse erratically in her chest.
Ginelle was keenly aware of the muscled arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly against his chest and encased between his large thighs. The scent of him, musky and strictly male, wrapped around her senses.
So absorbed in the ride and the man at her back, she wasn’t aware of their destination until they reined in before the stream she bathed in the day he found her.
Dorian said nothing as he dismounted and lifted his hands to help her down. She immediately stepped back from him for the heat from his body scorched her. She watched as he turned and approached the water than knelt to splash water onto his face.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
He continued to rub water along his forehead and along the nape of his neck. She stared at his back and watched the muscles beneath his cotton tunic shift marveling at the strength in which those arms possessed.
He straightened to his height and turned to look at her. He stared at her as if he wanted to say something but refrained. She watched as he reached within the pocket of his breeches and withdrew an object.
Ginelle felt her heart leap against her chest. Surely he hadn’t brought her here to accuse her of thievery again?
She frowned as he extended the object to her and slowly unraveled his fist. Her mouth parted on a gasp as she stared down at the familiar length of chain, and dangling from that chain was her locket.
Intuitively, her hand fluttered to the bare spot at her neck. She reached out and took it from his hand. “Thank you.” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She thought she had lost her mother’s necklace forever. “Where did you find it?” she looked up to peer at him.
He moved forward and gently took the necklace from her, motioning for her to turn around. Reluctantly she turned and lifted her hair as he placed the locket around her neck. His fingers lingered along her nape, eager to touch her silver-blond tresses.
Dorian dropped his hands and stepped away as the locket settled around her throat. “The woman-“ he nodded towards the picture concealed within, “Who is she?”
Ginelle reached up and unclasped the locket, revealing the beautiful woman inside. “My mother.” She whispered, lightly tapping a finger against the tiny portrait.
“She is beautiful-.” He said and she looked up, a small smile curving her mouth. “-like you.” He added.
Her smile faded and she turned her back to him. She couldn’t let him see the affect he had on her. How could she tell him that when he was sweet and gentle, he made her heart beat for a reason entirely foreign to her, a reason that she couldn’t fathom possible, especially with a man like Dorian.
“Why are you afraid of me?” his voice hardened and she turned to him, stunned by how quickly his demeanor changed.
She shook her head, “I told you-“
“I don’t believe you.” He stepped towards her and she retreated. His blue eyes narrowed, “What has colored your opinion of me?”
Ginelle swallowed back a heavy lump lodged in her throat. She wasn’t ready to reveal anything, especially to him.
He reached out to brush her face and she turned away from his touch. His hand curled into a fist and he dropped it to his side. His features darkened as he demanded, “Who is Pierino?”
Her eyes widened and her face paled beneath his questioning glare. She gritted her teeth and turned abruptly around, “I think it best we return home.” She made a move towards the horse but strong, lean fingers seized her arm, steering her back around.
“Answer me dammit!” his fingers gripped her upper arms as he searched her face. “Did he hurt you?”
Tears filled the rim of her eyes and she struggled against the rising storm of emotions. “Yes!” she wrenched from his grasp and stepped away, quickly wiping the tears from her face.
Dorian stared at her rigid back, her shoulders shaking with her fear. “Was he there?” he asked gently, “At the banquet?”
She nodded.
“What does he want with you?”
Ginelle whirled, her eyes flashing like daggers as she cried, “I don’t know!” she gasped for a breath, “He is an evil man who will stop at nothing to see that I suffer and that’s just it, I don’t know why. I cannot tell you his intentions but he seems to want me for a reason that I cannot explain.”
She stalked away from him, unable to look at him for revealing too much of her painful past. He grasped her arm, pulling her back towards him. “Let go of me!”
“Ginelle.” His arms tightened around her waist as he reached up to cup her chin, forcing her to peer into his eyes. He traced a finger along the curve of her cheek as he said, “This man will never hurt you again, and so as long as I am alive, no harm will come to you.”
She shook her head, “Do not make promises that you cannot keep.”
His face hardened, “My word is my vow.”
For a moment they stared at each other, locked in their embrace, their hearts beating as one and Ginelle was startled by a swift and sudden notion, that here, in Dorian’s arms is where she belonged. She wanted to believe him, believe that she was safe and Dorian would protect her, for a moment she would allow herself that comforting thought, but it would not last long.
He released her and she immediately put space between them. She felt his eyes on her back as she moved towards the horse. She reached up and gently patted the thick, black mane and the beast nudged its head against her shoulder.
“You have seemed to tame the beast.” Dorian said as he stepped towards her. “He does not take well to others, but he seems to like you.”
Ginelle smiled as she continued to run her fingers through the stallion’s mane. “What is his name?”
“He is Lafeu.” Ginelle’s smile broadened and Dorian felt his heart leap against his solid chest. “I have had him since I was a young boy.”
“He is quite a magnificent animal.” She said as she stroked his neck.
“Have you ever had a horse for your own?”
She shook her head, her blond strands stirring with the gesture. “No, my father was a poor man, he did not have much.”
“Your mother?”
She froze and dropped her head, her lashes lowering over her eyes to conceal her sudden sadness. “I did not know my mother.”
“Did you have any siblings?” he couldn’t help but pry, this fierce intrigue nagged at him and he yearned to know more about her.
“I have no siblings to speak of, ‘twas only my father and myself.” he had moved closer and now stood a mere space apart. She lifted her head and their eyes clashed. There in her unguarded gaze, he saw her pain, her deep sorrow and loneliness.
“What happened to your father?”
Her lovely face twisted with raw pain and she quickly averted her eyes from his face. “I wish to no longer speak of this.” Her voice broke with unshed tears and he resisted the urge to pull her in his arms. He knew that if he touched her, she would not allow it in her fragile state.
He said nothing and moved to the other side of Lafeu and extended a hand to her. This time, she did not hesitate to accept his hand but paused as he moved to lift her into the saddle.
“Thank you, Dorian.” She said softly as she reached up to touch the locket around her neck. “You do not know how much this means to me.”
The sunlight played gently across her delicate face, enhancing each little hollow and arch of bone. In that moment, with her lips parted and her eyes alight with her happiness, he yearned for nothing more than to kiss her dewy lips, to claim this woman as his own.
Instead, he refrained and assisted her into the saddle. He mounted behind her and turned Lafeu back towards the direction of the manor.
**********
The next morning, Ginelle was awakened by a subtle tapping on her door. She stirred and rolled over, taking note that her room was still dark, and that dawn had barely broken the horizon. Wary as the tapping continued, she arose and quickly slipped into her robe. She pulled the edges together as she moved towards the door.
She nudged the door open and was startled to find Dorian standing on the other side. “Monsieur, is something wrong?”
“There is something I need to show you. Can you get dressed?” he asked.
She frowned, “Is something amiss?”
“Just get dressed. I’ll wait below.” With that he turned and disappeared down the hall.
Closing the door, Ginelle moved towards her bureau. She donned a simple day dress and pinned her hair to the nape of her neck.
As she slipped from her room into the darkened hall, she noticed that even the servants had yet to awaken. Concerned that something terrible had happened, she proceeded on down the stairs. Dorian stood at the bottom waiting for her. He did not wait for her to reach his side; instead he continued on out the front door, leaving it ajar for her to follow.
When she stepped outside, the sun barely peaked over the mountains. Streaks of orange and yellow with a hint of pink painted the morning sky but it was not the approach of dawn that startled her with surprise, it was the beautiful white mare grazing in the grass.
Her mouth fell open and she froze at Dorian’s side, unaware that he watched her reaction, eager for her smile. “Do you like her?” he asked.
Ginelle nodded, “Where did you get her?”
He left her side and moved towards the mare as she continued to gnaw at the strays of grass. He reached up and trailed a hand along her thick mane. “I purchased her from a plantation not far from here.”
“What is her name?” Ginelle smiled as the horse lifted her head and nudged her nose against Ginelle’s shoulder. She laughed and reached up to scratch the mare’s ear.
“She is whatever you wish to call her.”
Startled, she averted her eyes from the horse to the man at her side. “She is for me?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
He nodded, a small smile curving his mouth. “She is yours.”
Ginelle dropped her head as she cradled the mare’s nose in her palm. “I do not know what to say.” Her heart thundered against her breast as she lifted her eyes to stare at the man who continued to surprise her.
“You need not say anything.” He said, “If you are going to remain at Ashford you are going to need a horse for your own personal use.”
At that moment, Ginelle was too ecstatic to think on his statement. Instead she focused on the beautiful white thoroughbred and felt her heart swell within her chest. She reached up and trailed a hand along the mare’s smooth, white neck. “I shall call her Millie.”
“Would you care to take her for a ride?” he asked.
Ginelle paused, “Now?”
He nodded. “Now is a good time as any.”
She smiled, “Yes that would be nice.”
It didn’t take long for them to saddle the horses. As Dorian led Lafeu from the barn, she stared at his broad back, curious to know more of this gentle side of him.
They mounted their horses and took off at a steady canter. Lafeu was much greater in size and strength, but the animal took its time, riding alongside Millie.
“I have never owned a horse before.” She said, gripping the reins in her hand. She lifted her head and her eyes connected with Dorian’s. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
Her heart did a strange jump in her chest as she continued to stare at him. The sun had arisen and the morning light played beautifully across his chiseled face. His black hair lay unbound against his shoulders and she had a strange urge to touch those raven strands.
She wondered than, if she were not to marry, what plans did he have for her? He said that she was to remain at Ashford but there had to be more?
At that moment she cared to not think on it. She was happy and strangely enough, she was enjoying Dorian’s company. She did not acknowledge the automatic flutter in her belly whenever he was near, nor did she assess any of the intense urges for his touch, or his lips to claim her own. She couldn’t think such things with him so near.
They rode up until noon. The sun was high in the sky but a gentle breeze cooled their faces. They traveled the familiar path that led them to the river where they paused to let the horses rest and drink some water.
Dorian moved to a boulder and sat down. His eyes fixated on Ginelle as she moved to the edge of the river to pat her face with cool water.
When she straightened and turned, she paused, her heart accelerating as his heated gaze remained firm upon her face.
As if spellbound, he gathered to his full height. Ginelle stood motionless, frozen as he closed the space between them. He did not touch her as his eyes roamed her face. She felt the heat from his body as she craved his touch. She knew she should turn away, end this before it starts but her body couldn’t register her thoughts.
He reached up and her mouth parted as his arm brushed her cheek. He tugged at the ribbon binding her hair until the silver-blond strands spiraled freely down her back. His fingers threaded through her hair and her head fell back, her mouth arching upward, eager for his kiss.
His left arm fell to her side and she released a sharp breath as his arm curved around her waist, pulling her against his chest. His right hand swept through her hair, brushing strands of blond from her face.
He leaned forward and pressed his cheek against her own and inhaled her scent as his desire flared, burning hotly in his belly.
She reached up and pressed a hand against his chest, “Dorian-“
He captured her mouth in a heated frenzy. Any words of objection died within her throat as his tongue delved inside, sweeping passionately in its claim on her.
Unable to control the feelings and her own curiosity, she opened her mouth to him and pressed her breasts against his chest.
A deep moan surfaced from his throat as he swung her up into his arms. He pressed tiny kisses against the corners of her mouth as he moved to a shallow patch of grass beneath a large oak tree. He lowered her to the soft terrain and followed her down.
Dorian stared at her, taking in every inch of her loveliness. Her pale hair lay dispersed beneath her, her lips parted and wet with his kisses. He smiled inwardly; he had fantasized many nights of her like this, beneath him, waiting for him to claim her as his own.
Her soft, brown eyes stared up at him, innocent and uncertain. His eyes trailed slowly over her petite frame. Her breasts, small yet supple swelled against the confines of her dress with each labored breath.
A fire burned deep in his groin as his manhood thrust against the seams of his breeches. He wanted her to the point of recklessness but he couldn’t be rough, this wasn’t simply a tumble and roll in the hay. This was Ginelle, sweet and beautiful Ginelle.
He reached down and spanned her waist with his hand marveling at how little and perfect she would fit against him.
His hand moved to her waist and curled into her dress, inching her skirts upward. Her breathing increased and he captured her gasp into his mouth as he bared her legs and reached down to caress a milky calve.
Ginelle felt her heart spiraling out of control within her chest. She knew she should stop him but found her body immobile.
He kissed her tenderly, as if she were the most precious thing he held dear. She accepted his kisses with a shyness that slowly faded as her desire intensified with his tender strokes.
His fingers glided higher and she felt her body twisting against his touch as his hand smoothed along her inner thigh.
Her eyes widened as he brushed that intimate spot between her thighs. A flutter of surprise rippled through her body as he probed her folds, seeking the delicate nub within. She arched against him as his finger dipped deeper, circling and stirring a deep longing that started a trembling in her limbs.
Her eyes fell closed as he pressed his hand against her, shocked that her body responded so erotically.
She nearly groaned aloud when he withdrew his finger. He reached up and tugged at the material at her shoulders. Her breasts fell free to his hungry gaze and he veered up to capture a pink nipple between his lips.
His hand slipped beneath her pulling her flush against him as he lightly pulled and teased, his tongue dipping out to trace the delicate curve of her breast.
He released her only to move and repeat the same to her other breast. Her fingers curled in his shirt as he pressed his hips against her, his manhood pulsating within his breeches. She opened to him as his hand fell between her thighs and he thrust a finger into her dewy folds.
She felt her desire brewing, a longing burning where his fingers stroked her tenderly as his tongue lavished her pink puckered bud. Passion swept through her and a swift tingling started at the base of his fingers. She knew not exactly what she craved, what her body yearned but she knew only Dorian could sedate her sudden burning, her fierce and swift desire.
He released her taut nipple and shifted his body against her, pressing his hardness against her inner core. Her eyes widened and a sudden fear gripped her. She had never seen a man naked and she knew not what lay beneath his clothes but it frightened her.
Logic took place and she suddenly questioned her feelings. She had been repulsed by Nathaniel’s touch but somehow yearned for Dorian’s but he did not love her. He wanted her to remain at Ashford but that could not be. If she allowed this to continue, she would lose her maidenhood, and not under matrimony.
As much as her body yearned for this moment, eager for Dorian to teach her the ways of passion and lovemaking, she couldn’t. She would be ruined, spoiled as some women of the ton referred it. She would not be worthy of marriage or a convent and most of all, she could not give up her maidenhead to a man that did not love her.
She pressed her hand against his chest and felt his body stiffen. “Dorian.”
The moment his body left hers, she felt a sudden draft sweep over her. She sat up and quickly righted her gown.
He paced before her and swept a hand through his hair. She gathered to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirts. She knew she should say something but what could she say? What would become of her once he sedated his lust?
“It’s best we return to the manor.” His voice was stiff and she sensed his anger.
She said nothing as she moved to Millie and he helped her mount. The ride back to Ashford was quiet and tense. When they arrived, she was angry with him for having been so gentle and than suddenly cold towards her.
When she dismounted, he took Millie’s reins and led both the mare and stallion towards the barn. He left her standing without as much as a word and his detachment wounded her. Struggling to keep her tears at bay, she spun on her heels and went inside.
**********