Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I t was the second day without even a glimpse of Tristan McRainey. If he didn’t appear soon, she would have to tell Edith her job here was done. As much as she wanted to help Edith keep the McRainey estate private, the more she thought about it, the more she believed Tristan had just been a ghost, a strong apparition. She’d been caught up in the experience and overreacted, but in the end, there was no enchantment.

Gwen stared out the window at the approaching car. Derrick arrived to take her horseback riding. Yesterday, he’d come for her and treated her to lunch in town. She knew the man was interested in her, and she should probably put a stop to it, but she was beginning to like the guy.

There were qualities about him that she couldn’t deny finding attractive. Derrick was attentive and handsome, not to mention the Scottish accent. Every time he talked, her insides melted.

Besides, what harm could come of it? She’d be leaving soon. Smoothing her short coat, she picked up her gloves and headed outside.

He looked every bit Lord of the Manor in his blue riding jacket, tan breeches, and black boots. Derrick’s eyes were quick to assess her fully before meeting her gaze. He leaned forward, kissing her cheek in greeting. Every inch the gentleman, he took her elbow and guided her to the stables.

“I trust you slept well, Gwen,” he stated, her first name somehow sounding richer.

“Yes, I did actually,” she replied, smiling up at him.

“Anything new?” he asked nonchalantly.

She knew he referred to Tristan and answered truthfully. “No, not at all. Strange that he appeared so often and then suddenly nothing. I am going to have to tell your aunt there’s nothing more I can do.”

Derrick studied her. “You seem disappointed.”

“I am. If your ancestor’s ghost is trapped here, it’s sad. I feel it’s best to allow the dead to move on.”

She met his dubious look. “Look, I know you have plans for this place, but whether it remains a private home or not, it’s always good for the deceased to find peace.” A dull ache tightened her chest, and she stop speaking. It was obvious Derrick had no interest in what she did for a living and was dubious about anything relating to his dead ancestor.

The conversation turned to casual topics about the horses as they walked the rest of the way to the stables. A man, whom Derrick introduced as Miles O’Reilly, walked out with their respective mounts and waited patiently until they neared.

Derrick assisted her to mount, giving her short instructions, claiming the horse was tame and needed little guidance. It turned out to be true. Her mare was gentle, making it easy for her, as she was a novice rider.

On a larger horse, Derrick rode alongside, his attention on her and the horse until he seemed to consider she was at ease.

“If at any time you feel uncomfortable, let me know. Horses can sense our emotions and be affected,” he informed her.

After a few moments they arrived at the water’s edge, the creek’s clear water bubbling past adding to the picturesque scene. Derrick dismounted and came to help her down. Holding the horses’ reins, they allowed the animals to drink.

Something about Derrick’s penetrating gaze was unsettling. He seemed a bit too intense today, at times making Gwen a bit uneasy. Perhaps some people found deep stares alluring, but it was a bit much, especially the way he stared at her at times without blinking.

She made small talk, hoping to calm her apprehension. “It’s so beautiful here, I won’t ever forget it.”

“I’d be disappointed if you left before I’d have the opportunity to kiss you.” He moved closer, his intent clear.

Gwen wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him. Admittedly, she found him attractive, and it would be fun, but at the same time, there was something that didn’t feel right.

Taking her by the shoulders, he leaned forward, his lips barely touching hers. Gwen was about to push away when a clap of thunder caused them both to jump.

At the second boom from the skies, the horses took off at a gallop heading for the stables, leaving them stranded.

Dark clouds began rolling in and Gwen stifled an amused hysterical outburst of laughter at nature helping to make the kiss less awkward. “I think we should make a run for it. It looks like a mean storm.”

They’d barely begun the trek back to the house when Miles appeared driving a golf cart.

He pointed back toward the stables. “I was near when the horses raced past,” he explained, his gaze moving over them. “Was either of you hurt?”

Both shook their heads and climbed onto the golf cart.

The golf cart’s cover was no match for the rain, and by the time Gwen made her way inside and to her bedroom, she was drenched.

“So much for a day of riding,” she grumbled, peeling off her coat and letting it drip from a hanger in the bathroom.

Derrick had gone home, promising to return for dinner after he’d changed. For some reason Gwen felt ill at ease about the kiss they’d exchanged. It was silly of course, they were both single, there was nothing more to it than flirtation on his part. Then there was the fact he was handsome, titled, and rich. What else could a girl want?

He wasn’t Tristan.

In her bathroom, after she peeled the rest of the soaked clothing, she dried off with a large fluffy towel, letting the water run until it warmed. Once the stream of water grew hot, she washed off her ruined make-up and blotted her face dry. When she looked back up into the mirror, she a startled yelp escaped.

Tristan McRainey stood right behind her.

She swung around to face him and admonish him for scaring her, but before she could utter a word, his mouth took hers in a savage kiss.

The way he held her, his lips claimed hers, confirmed, beyond a doubt, Tristan was no ghost.

His hard body against hers, warm lips covering hers and tongue circling with hers, all real. Oh yes, very real .

His body was warm and solid, thick and muscular. He smelled of moss and pine and tasted like spice and wine. Every single one of her senses were filled to overflowing. The towel fell, the only reason she realized it was the warmth of his hands on her bare skin, when he cupped her bottom, lifting her intimately against him.

No man could evoke such a response from her with but a kiss. There was no reason for it, no sense to it, but in that moment, Gwen knew she had to be with him. She needed to claim him and make him hers.

“Make love to me, Tristan.”

Her words cut through the fog of his anger and want. When he’d seen her kissing the young McRainey, he’d lost his temper which seemed to have caused the storm. He was tipping to the point of no return.

The enchantress had to fall in love with him, it was the only way for him to escape, but at the same time, he wanted her to for other unexplainable reasons.

Her breath came in short pants, her lips nibbled deliciously on his neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. No doubt she desired him. Would behaving like a cad help or hurt his chance at claiming her heart?

Gwyneth began to pull at his clothing and succeeding in removing his tunic. When they separated just enough for her to pull it over his head and their gazes met, he drowned in the dark pools. Desire took control. He finished undressing while she touched and titillated him, until his entire body vibrated with want.

They clashed again. He no longer pondered the outcome, her velvety soft flesh all-consuming under his lips, his hands. When they reached her bed, they fell into it, not breaking their kiss.

The alluring woman lay atop him without inhibitions, the most alluring thing ever. Those fingers marked a wonderful trail down his chest, her tongue followed closely behind, circling and nipping. Her delicious mouth made him unable to do more than moan and grunt, straining not to come before even entering her.

Her torture continued as she slid down his body toward his mid-section, leaving his flesh quivering in anticipation. When she began to flick her tongue around the engorged head of his cock, his hips thrust forward of their own accord, and he fisted the bed covering, fighting again not to finish.

Acknowledging that he could not take much more, she moved back over him. He immediately took advantage, rolling her over, their bodies pressed together. While he feasted on her lips, her hands to travel down his back cupping his buttocks. So much he wanted to do, prolong the moment forever.

She gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth, suckling, enjoying her movements under him.

“You’re amazing,” she gasped. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Tristan liked her boldness, and he smiled at her. “I must have you now.”

Not looking away from his face, she reached between them and took him in hand. “Then take me.”

Sinking into her, they both let out a loud sigh of relief. The joining of their bodies was like nothing he’d experienced. He lost control completely and allowed his body to take over, moving in and out of her in the fast rhythm of need and urgency that overrode any thought or command.

She screamed his name and began to move with him. Meeting him thrust for thrust, as if she too felt the urgent need for them to come together.

On and on, the pace continued until sweat dripped from him, and still he could not slow. As a wave of ecstasy crested, another swelled and they both clung to each other, the sounds of her moans echoing in his ears.

Finally, he peaked, sensations slamming so hard he moaned deep in his throat as his release made him shudder. Her sex constricted around him, milking him for all he could give, as she crested yet again.