He proceeded to tie a long section of rope around the stocking and then looped it over a low-hanging branch of a nearby chestnut tree until the ball hung at mid-thigh level. He gave his handiwork a nod of approval and then shrugged out of his coat, tossing it carelessly to the ground. His waistcoat followed. He then stripped off his cravat and rolled back his shirtsleeves to expose his very masculine forearms. They were muscular and covered with a light dusting of dark hair.
Mariah had never truly considered the male anatomy before, but now she found herself utterly enthralled by the sight of his bared arms. Her gaze tracked upward, noting even darker hair just below the exposed portion of his throat. The sight both fascinated her and filled her with questions. Did he have hair all over his body? Did he, like she, also have a thick thatch of it in his nether region? Her gaze reflexively flickered downward. He glanced up and caught her looking.
"If I didn't know better, Lady Mariah, I would think you were ogling me."
"Perhaps I am," she confessed.
One dark chestnut brow cocked. "Then you compel me to ask if you like what you see."
"Yes, Mr. Needham," she replied with a boldness that surprised even herself. "I believe I do. Indeed, I find you altogether fascinating."
"Do you? I find that remark terribly distracting. If you are going to continue to stare at me, I'm going to have great difficulty concentrating on my batting."
"Do you wish for me to leave?" she asked, instantly disappointed.
"No, I do not."
"Might I remain if I promise not to ogle you?"
"You may," he said with mock solemnity.
"I could always bowl for you instead," she suggested.
His brows rose. "You?"
"Yes, me," she replied indignantly. "I may not be the best, but surely I am better than nothing. At least I can bowl better than a tree limb. Besides, I seem to recall your promise to teach me proper batting technique. Here's our chance to kill two birds with one—"
"Cricket ball?" he interjected.
"Indeed!" She laughed. His rumbling chuckle joining hers was the sweetest sound. It was warm, companionable, and wonderful to have this unexpected private time together.
"While I appreciate the gesture," he said, "I doubt you can produce the speed I require."
"You won't even let me try?"
"If Marcus doesn't appear shortly, I will accept your offer. In the meantime, I would be happy to demonstrate the proper batting technique to you."
"Thank you." She sank to the ground under the tree to observe him.
"It's all about balance," he said as he took up his bat. "Watch carefully."
She couldn't ignore how his breeches pulled taut over his muscular thighs and rounded buttocks as he assumed the batter's stance. She'd never been so drawn to the male form until now, but there was a kind of beauty and athletic grace in each of his movements.
"Are you watching?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied. "Very intently."
He lunged forward as he swung the bat. The crack of wood on the ball split the silence. The stocking-covered ball shot into the air and then jerked back down, it's flight halted by the stocking and rope. Nick immediately stepped forward into another swing, striking the ball again and again.
He continued for several minutes without pause, never missing the ball. His brows contracted in concentration, his breathing came harder, and his shirt clung to his perspiring body as his strikes came harder and faster. As he lunged into another hit, the ball suddenly shot out of the stocking and into the air, flying far into the tree line.
"Bloody hell," he cursed and threw down the bat.
"Do you not have another ball?" she asked.
"I do, but I tore a great gaping hole in the stocking."
"Have you another?"
"Only on my feet."
"That is no good at all," she said. "You would look very peculiar walking around with one stocking, not to mention the discomfort. Perhaps I could assist you?"
***
Mariah had already untied and removed one boot before Nick even realized what she was about. Her hands worked under her petticoat as she untied her garters and slid her stockings down her calves. As he imagined what he could not see, a surge of heat hit his groin. Although her actions were concealed by her petticoats, the knowledge alone of what she did flooded his brain with the most erotic visions of long and shapely bare legs.
"Bloody hell, Mariah!" he groaned. "I thought I was distracted before! You have no idea what you are doing to me."
She looked up with a perplexed expression. "But I am only removing my stockings."
"And now practicing with this bloody bat is the last thing on my mind."
"But you must," she insisted. "Didn't you say that everything depends on the outcome of the match?"
"Yes," he said. "It does."
"Then you cannot let anything distract you."