Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

His whole body went rigid, and Lucy wondered for a moment if she’d done something wrong. Then Jeremy looked down at her, his gaze searching and anxious, and a sharp stab of emotion caught Lucy in the chest. It hurthim , she realized. It hurt him to think he’d hurt her. “No pain,” she assured him between panting breaths. “Only you.”


He held her tightly, tenderly, while her body learned to accommodate his, resting his forehead against her brow and dropping a light kiss on her cheek. And when he gently withdrew and thrust again, Lucy closed her lips over her cry, sealing it into a moan. Again and again he stroked into her. She buried her face against his shoulder and felt the sweet ache building once more.

He moved faster and harder, and she began to move with him, arching into each stroke with a gasp of delight. Her fingers sank into his shoulders. She heard a loud moan. It was probably hers, but he made no reproach. They were both past caring. She felt it starting again—that wondrous flood of pleasure that welled up from deep inside her, welled up fromhim . His breathing grew rough. His thrusts rougher, too. Until the dam broke and the flood took her and they drowned together in bliss.

He collapsed onto her, sinking her into the bed with his weight. They floated there together, simply breathing. And Lucy tried to collect the pieces of her body, scattered like branches after a storm. One leg she found twined around his. A few fingers she located tangled in his hair.

And just when she began to believe that she was all still there, if somewhat rearranged, another flood began. This one didn’t start from her womb, or from him. It began in her heart. A strange and powerful deluge of emotion burst forth and filled every inch of her body, until she trembled with the terrible task of containing it. And it wouldn’t stop. It only kept coming. There was no reprieve. It flowed in great rivers out to her limbs and pounded in waves through her still-quivering core. It swelled her lips and thundered in her ears and welled up in her eyes. And it was too much to hold, impossible to dam.

It spilled over into her soul.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Oh, I hate you!”

Sophia bent over Lucy’s betrothal ring, wearing an expression of fascinated envy. “You just have to stay one step ahead of me, don’t you?” she asked, flinging away Lucy’s hand.

Lucy remained seated at the dressing table, watching Sophia’s reflection pace back and forth in the mirror. Above her, Sophia’s lady’s maid muttered violent threats around a mouthful of hairpins. Lucy’s curls, like her thoughts, were particularly unruly this morning. The diminutive French maid was undaunted. She attacked with Gallic determination, yanking and twisting the chestnut locks into an elaborately coiled coiffure for the wedding.

The wedding. Lucy’s scalp prickled at the thought.Her wedding.

“First,” Sophia ticked off on her fingers, “you’re miles ahead of me in kisses. Then I get engaged in the garden, in perfectly scandalous fashion. One would think I’d have the advantage of you there for at least a solid hour, but no. Ten minutes later,you get engaged in the garden. You’re about to get married before my father’s even granted his consent. And now you’ve even beaten me to the ring. I shan’t have mine until Toby can retrieve it from Surrey. And even then, it won’t be half so fine.”

Lucy smiled at her friend’s pouting tirade. “Must I remind you,” she asked, “that I would not be engagedor getting marriedor wearing a betrothal ring at all, had you not invented that ridiculous letter?”

“It wasyour idea.” Sophia paused at the window and leaned against the glass in a petulant pose. “And don’t sound so put out. I did you a grand favor.” She toyed with the tassel of the amber-colored drapes. “You’re disgustingly happy; don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

“Very well,” said Lucy. “I shan’t.” She picked up one of her mother’s opal earrings from the dressing table and smiled at her reflection as she secured it in place, remembering the delicious sensation of Jeremy’s teeth nipping her ear. Her ni**les hardened instantly, straining against the ivory silk of her bodice.

Had it truly been only a few hours since she’d left his bed? Already it felt like weeks. God, she missed him. Even worse than she had the evening before, after two unending days. Just thinking of him, she felt a dull ache cinch in her breast. And a hollow warmth kindle between her thighs. Fleeting memories teased through her mind, like flickers of firelight in the dark. His hand on her breast. His tongue in her ear.

“Just look at you,” Sophia said. “You’re so happy, you’re blushing bright pink with it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you taken with fever.”

Lucy pulled a face and pressed a hand to her forehead in feigned agony.

“And,” Sophia continued, sweeping back across the room to stand behind her, “Lord help us all, it must be catching.” She locked gazes with Lucy in the mirrored reflection. A reluctant smile played across her face. “I’m even happyfor you.”