The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1) Read online

  As she pulled it over her head, Geoffrey let out his breath. Luckily another shirt, nay, a short chemise, lay underneath. As she began to take that off as well, Geoffrey knew he couldn’t watch without breaking the vow he’d made to himself—and her—after the night Bryce had caught them.

  He was here to protect her. Nothing more.

  “Stop!” he shouted into the clearing.

  Sara spun wildly around, clearly shocked to have been caught unaware.

  Good, let her be afraid. She could have gotten herself killed.

  Angered by his carelessness and his own reaction to her, he strode out of his place in the brush.

  “What the hell could you possibly be thinking?” he shouted.

  “Me?” Sara shouted right back. “I’m not the one who just snuck up on someone and scared them half to death!”

  Her brown eyes flashed, narrow slits glaring at him.

  She’d not turn this on him. “The fact that I could sneak up on you should enlighten you to the danger you put yourself in.”

  “I don’t appear to be in any danger, Sir Geoffrey. Your presence is timely, as usual.”

  “You’re upset with me for saving you from a potential disaster?” Incredulous, Geoffrey allowed himself his full range of volume, which he normally tempered in front of the sheltered countess.

  Instead of backing down, Sara ignored the warnings and pressed him further.

  “To which potential disaster do you refer, Sir Geoffrey? Shall I thank you for saving me from the last enjoyable experience I’m likely to have before my future husband descends on Kenshire to take my land and my people? And me, lest we forget that small detail. Pray excuse my behavior. How could I have possibly wished for the freedom to cool off on a beautiful, warm day in a place I’ve visited since childhood? What could I have been thinking?”

  She deliberately misunderstood. As angry as he was, Geoffrey knew Sara was sending him a message, and he would do the same. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her toward him—and into the most demanding kiss they’d shared yet. Forcing her mouth open, he plunged his tongue inside to taste what he’d been missing the past few days.

  Groaning with pleasure and feeling himself instantly harden, he pulled off her short chemise without thinking and carelessly discarded it. “Is that what you were about to do?”

  He didn’t get an answer, not that he’d expected one. Cupping both breasts, he rubbed his thumbs over the hardening nubs as he took her mouth even deeper into his own.

  There was no stopping now, and they both knew it.

  “Touch me,” she demanded.

  He gladly accommodated her. He caressed her bare back, flawless and smooth. Yanking off his own shirt and pulling her close, he relished in the feel of their bare skin touching one another.

  He wanted, nay, needed more.

  Untying her breeches and reminding himself to tell her never to wear them again—they were much too provocative—he pulled them down in one motion. He knelt below her, kissing her stomach, her hips, and the insides of her bare thighs. Relishing the sight before him, he stood, less frantic and more fully aware. Her sigh, a siren’s song, lulled him into a spell he was powerless to withstand.

  He grasped Sara’s face with both hands. “I want to make love to you with everything that I am.”

  She never answered him, but rather placed her hands over his, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she smiled. Slowly. Sensually.

  He struggled to keep his composure, quickly disrobing. She was looking at him with such awe and wonder, he had to look away. Bedding a virgin would be a new experience, but he anticipated it with great pleasure because it was her. Because she would be his.

  “Sara,” he said, giving her another chance to turn away, for both of them to choose sanity, “your first time should not be in the woods tumbled by a man with so little honor that he’d deflower you rather than protect you.”

  Naked and ready to explode at any moment, he needed to be sure this was what she wanted. She deserved no less.

  “Geoffrey.” His name was a sweet, intimate caress on her lips. “‘Tis fitting my first time should be in a place I hold dear with a man so honorable I’d call him husband if I could.”

  Scooping her in his arms, Geoffrey carried her to a bed of soft grass below an unusually low overhang of a willow. Its soft buds teased her naked body as he walked with her, and he could feel her shiver beneath his hands.

  He placed her on the ground, lying beside her. His fingers trailed a path from Sara’s leg to the apex of her womanhood, and he was pleased when she opened her legs wider for him. She gazed at him with a look somewhere between delight and trepidation.

  “Relax, love.” He leaned down, and this time his kiss was less demanding than before. Coaxing her lips apart, he traced their outline with his tongue, simultaneously filling her with his finger. He teased her small nub with his thumb, slowly increasing the pressure.

  Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Feel, don’t think.”

  Faster and faster, he moved his hand, watching the woman beside him as her full lips parted with pleasure and she arched her back, pushing herself closer to him. It was the single most exquisite sight of his life—and he knew he’d never witness anything as erotically beautiful as long as he lived. He’d brought her pleasure before, but this time was different. Her release would only be the beginning. Leaning on one elbow, he moved his hand inside her.

  Expertly bringing her to climax, he captured her sounds of pleasure with his mouth, and when her breathing returned to normal, he shifted on top of her.

  Though he knew there would be hell to pay, he guided the tip of his hardness into her wet sheath, inch by inch, allowing her to become accustomed to him, watching her expression every second.

  “You’re sweating,” she said softly, wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead.

  He was going to explode.

  Geoffrey was clearly working hard to restrain himself. As Sara became accustomed to the strange sensation of him entering her, she allowed herself a quiet exploration of Geoffrey’s backside, marveling in the way every muscle tensed beneath her fingers.

  Suddenly he stopped.

  “Are you sure, Sara? There’ll be no turning back.” His voice was strained, as if he was physically in pain. The fullness was like nothing she’d experienced. Surely he could never fit entirely inside her. And now his hardness was pressed against the barrier that marked her as a virgin and a suitable wife. If she asked him to withdraw, he would.

  “Aye, I’m sure.”

  Without warning, he thrust hard, and she attempted to pull back.

  “That is the only pain you’ll ever feel from me. I promise.”

  Even as he spoke, the sharp stab began to subside. It was replaced with a feeling she couldn’t compare to any other.

  And then he began to move.

  Slowly, he leaned down to take her hardened nipple into his mouth as he pushed and withdrew, pushed and withdrew. Sara moaned, not sure which sensation to concentrate on. Catching on to the rhythm, faster and faster, she tensed every muscle in her body. His mouth moved to her neck, nibbling and tasting as he continued to move on top of her. Her wildly beating heart would surely explode out of her chest.

  Panting, matching him thrust for thrust, she couldn’t hold a thought.

  “Please.” She begged for something. What?

  Geoffrey accommodated her, grinding his hips and continuing to thrust until he delivered on his promise. No pain. Only complete and total pleasure.

  Unlike the other spasms, this one made her buttocks squeeze and her hands clench against Geoffrey’s back. She didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her, which Geoffrey matched with his own satisfied groan.

  Sweating and still pulsating, Sara couldn’t catch her breath. She swallowed, wrapped her arms around Geoffrey’s broad back, and reveled in the most incredible experience of her life.

  Holy hell. What was that?

  Geoff
rey had bedded his share of women, but he’d never come quite so hard.

  Sara had matched his passion with her own—and he told her so. “Who knew the countess would be such a minx in bed?”

  Sara, never one to back down, said, “Bed? I see nothing but willow trees and grass.”

  Rolling off and gathering her to him, Geoffrey pushed her long dark locks to the side. “If I recall, you once told me this was your favorite place in the world. Far be it from me to shatter that illusion with something so ordinary as a bed.”

  “And,” he added, “unless you’d like a repeat of what we just did, you may want to stop wriggling against my leg.”

  She giggled—a sound he was pretty sure he’d never expected to hear from Sara—but her words immediately diverted his attention.

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Propping himself on an elbow, he leaned over and kissed her gently, running his hand down the valley between her breasts.

  “You’d get no argument from me.” Then, placing a soft caress on her dark curls down below, he amended, “but you wouldn’t be able to mount Guinevere if we were to repeat that performance.”

  “Interesting,” she said, showing her innocence.

  Her statement prompted him to question her further. “So how does a sheltered maid give such pleasure on her maiden voyage?”

  A light flush crept up her cheeks. “Mayhap she had the guidance of an expert captain.”

  “I’ll not argue with you there, my love.”

  It came out before he could stop it. They fell silent, the endearment a reminder of everything that lay between them.

  Although she would never be his, he did love her. If there had been any question, their lovemaking had confirmed what his brother had not so gently accused him of.

  But he couldn’t say the words since they wouldn’t change anything. Instead, he closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of peace before reality intruded on their perfect afternoon.

  22

  The ride back to the castle was subdued, with sounds of their slow canter punctuated by intimate conversation. Geoffrey couldn’t remember feeling more connected to another human being in his life. Sara’s sensual allure, while undeniable, extended beyond her perfectly shaped body and full, tantalizing lips.

  Their rash act could not be repeated. He’d not put her in that kind of danger. Having to cover the loss of her virginity was one thing. Increasing his chances of an unexpected pregnancy would be quite another.

  Would that be so terrible? How could he not have her again?

  She had belonged to no other man before him.

  The knowledge that he’d taken her virginity made him feel something beyond simple lust. Not guilt … he’d never felt guilty for his actions once committed to them. Nay, a feeling of possession, primal satisfaction that she was indeed his.

  Except that she was not.

  “Sara,” he said after a stretch of silence. “We need to talk about what happened.”

  Up until this point they’d been discussing anything but—her father and his parents, John and Randolf.

  “If we must.” Obviously disgruntled, she frowned, a crease of worry shaping her forehead.

  “You’re worried about the repercussions?” he guessed.

  “In a sense, though I don’t regret it.” Sara looked at him defiantly, as if expecting him to argue. He would not. “I believe I can convince my betrothed I come to him a virgin.” Geoffrey could tell she wasn’t convinced at all, but she had something else to say, and he would let her say it. “But I am worried,” she continued

  “About?”

  She hesitated.

  “Sara?” She’d piqued his curiosity.

  She looked at him as they slowly trotted along. Finally, she said, “I’m worried he’ll never be good enough.”

  She didn’t have to explain, and he couldn’t comfort her. What would he say? You’re right. Lyonsford would never be good enough for you. Whatever it was between them would be impossible to replicate.

  But she wasn’t finished. He could tell she was embarrassed, so he smiled to put her at ease.

  “I asked once before, but I’m curious. Is that … normal?”

  He laughed—an outburst he immediately regretted. She’d asked the question in earnest and looked anything but amused.

  “Nay, ‘twas not for me,” he said.

  “And you have much experience to compare it to?”

  Geoffrey knew his answer might anger her, but he’d not be dishonest. “Yes, I have some experience in this area.”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t let it drop there.

  “A lot of experience?”

  “Sara, do you really want me to answer that question?”

  She considered for a moment before nodding. “Yes, ‘tis strange to me that men are so much more—familiar—in this area than noblewomen. I mean, it’s not as if a woman can’t enjoy the act as well.”

  It was his opportunity to change topics. They should enjoy each other, not think of the fact that this thing between them would need to end. “Really now? You enjoy lovemaking, lass?” he teased. “Tell me, fair lady, about this enjoyment you speak of. Which part did you find most enjoyable?”

  She refused to be more specific. “All of it, I suppose.”

  He couldn’t resist. “Did you enjoy when I slid inside you and then retreated … over and over again?”

  He liked to think she slowed her mare because she was having a hard time concentrating.

  “Perhaps you most enjoyed it when I slid my hand between us to touch you as my cock…”

  “Enough!”

  He trotted alongside her, grabbed the reins of her horse, and stopped them both. Dismounting quickly, he held up his hand for her to do the same. In moments, he secured both horses to a nearby tree. Sara neither attempted to help nor stopped him.

  He would show her how right she was about their passion being unmatched.

  Crushing her to him, he ploughed her mouth with his own and gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a throaty moan, which had become his favorite sound of late.

  He moved his mouth to her neck, tilting her head back for better access. A sheltered countess? Not any longer. His lady matched his passion with her own.

  His?

  Nay, not yours. She can never be yours.

  “You know this cannot be,” he said, his breath hitching.

  “Why?”

  He pulled his head up. Was she serious?

  “Why? There are so many reasons I can hardly think where to start.”

  “You stayed.”

  A simple statement that nearly knocked him to the ground.

  “You’re not thinking straight. Listen to me.” He held her in his arms, marveling how perfectly she fit there—as if they were made for each other. He tightened his embrace. The warmth of the afternoon had begun to wane, the crisp autumn air hinting at the harsh winter soon to follow.

  “We’re both fighting for what is ours. You deserve to keep Kenshire. And I wish you could do it on your own. But that’s just not the way of the world.”

  “Fighting for what’s ours…” When her voice trailed away, he lifted her chin, kissing her softly, tenderly before releasing her.

  He walked away to untie the horses. He had to stop touching her. When she was in his arms, he forgot the harsh realities of the world—something a reiver ought never to do.

  Still tender from their lovemaking, Sara stared at Geoffrey’s back as he rode in front of her. She’d never imagined he could arouse the same passion in her so soon. Yet if he hadn’t stopped back there, she’d have gladly allowed their kissing to turn into something more. As she watched him ride ahead, admiring his silhouette, it occurred to her that her father would have rather liked him. Geoffrey was strong, protective, thoughtful, and unwielding—qualities her father had admired.

  And it was not by chance … it was the reason Geoffrey was at Kenshire in the first place. Her father had trusted Geoffrey’s uncle to protect her,
and by extension, his nephew.

  “Geoffrey?”

  As the village came into sight he slowed, turning to her.

  “Do you suppose my father knew of you?”

  His brow furrowed, and even from this distance, she could see the telltale tic, which meant he was either annoyed or deep in thought.

  “I supposed he did. Why do you ask?”

  She wasn’t sure, but it felt important somehow.

  “I’m just curious. I’ll have to speak to your uncle about it.”

  “You’ll have the chance sooner than you think. Here he comes.”

  He pointed off in the distance, where a lone rider had come into view.

  “How do you know ‘tis your uncle?”

  Without answering her question, Geoffrey turned to look at her, worry etched on his handsome face.

  “Something is amiss,” he guessed. As they drew closer, Hugh’s expression confirmed the truth of his words.

  “Lady Sara, nephew.” Hugh reined in his horse, stopping before he reached them.

  Guinevere bucked, which was extremely unusual for her. She sensed Sara’s sudden unease.

  “What is it, Sir Hugh?” Sara was proud that her voice did not quaver.

  He looked at Sara, clearly wanting to question their whereabouts but not having the authority to do so, at least where she was concerned. She was ashamed of nothing; she would explain nothing.

  “Messengers from Lord Lyonsford have arrived.”

  Without thinking, Sara glanced at Geoffrey, who had the good sense to keep his gaze leveled at his uncle. She quickly looked away and spurred Guinevere into action.

  “Then let’s receive them,” she said, leaving both men behind as she sped toward the castle.

  Heart hammering, Sara rode on the outskirts of the village. She would need to enter from the south to avoid seeing the messengers. Otherwise, they would most certainly relay her wayward appearance—breeches and all—to her betrothed. She expertly navigated her prized mare through the gate and into the stables.

  When Geoffrey and Hugh caught up to her, she couldn’t look at them, afraid Hugh would sense her desperation. Her despair.