Page 32 of A Perfect Engagement
He tried to gauge her reaction to the dirty ditty. Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Shit. He should apologize immediately for exposing her to such filth. Then a giggle escaped from behind her hand. He relaxed; she was amused, not scandalized.
“Shall I read another?”
“Please do.” She nodded, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“There was a young maid from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass
Not rounded and pink
As you probably think…
It was gray, had long ears, and ate grass.”
Charlotte’s laughter rang out, her hand lay at her breast, and her shoulders shook.
He flipped through the pages as their horses walked along at a sedate pace. “Some of these I cannot read out loud to a lady. They are supremely filthy.”
Charlotte leaned closer, peering at the open book on his lap. He quickly turned the page.
“I’ll just read those bits later when I’m alone.” She wore a delightfully mischievous look on her face. Daniel wondered what further surprises this minx held inside. Not for you to find out, he reminded himself. She belongs to your brother.
As he frowned down at the open book, large splotches appeared on its pages. Raindrops began to fall furiously. He snapped the book closed and tucked it back into the saddlebag.
“Oh no!” Charlotte cried out. They both nudged their mounts to a faster pace.
But this was not going to be a gentle spring drizzle. Fat drops of water pelted them as they raced down the road. Daniel glanced around at the open fields surrounding them, looking for any sort of shelter. The wind picked up, and the rain blew directly into his face. He reached up to take hold of his hat before he lost it to the elements. They crossed under the great gnarled branches of their finish line from the morning’s race. As they rode around the bend, a large barn came into view.
“There.” He pointed out the building to Charlotte, and she nodded, turning her horse left to cut across the field.
A hulking structure, the barn sat alone in the center of the field. Daniel dismounted and ran to open one of the great doors. The hinges protested loudly as he swung the door open. Inside, the cavernous room was half-filled with straw.
“Come in. There’s no one here. It’s just storage for hay.” He led his horse into the barn. Charlotte rode in right behind him. Reaching up, he grasped her around the waist to help her dismount. As she slid down in his arms, he smelled the rosewater she wore, and he had to stop himself from burying his nose in her fragrant hair. Her cheeks were colored a delicate pink. Did she feel it too? This pull between them?
“Are you soaked? The storm blew up out of nowhere.” He stepped back.
“No, not soaked, but decidedly wet.” She reached up to unpin her hat. Inspecting the damp feathers with pursed lips. “I think it will dry all right.”
He turned in a circle, observing their surroundings. The pounding of rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof. Hercules happily followed his nose to a pile of fresh hay. Daniel spied a tall wooden ladder leading up to a hay-filled loft which ran along one length of the barn. Hanging from the ceiling, a thick rope fell. It dangled over the top of a massive pile of hay.
“Why do we always end up wet?” Charlotte said as she peeled off her jacket. The thin fabric of her blouse was damp and clung to her skin in the most appealing places. She laid the jacket carefully on a pile of hay, next to her hat.
He grinned at her fastidious nature. Her rooms must be neat as a pin. No writing supplies carelessly left out on the desk or clothes strewn across the floor. He wanted nothing more than to toss her onto the fresh hay and muss her tidy appearance. He would run his fingers through her hair, freeing it from the myriad of hairpins that trapped it so neatly into a bun. Then beginning at her throat, he would unfasten each little pearl button of her white lawn shirt until he could expose the soft skin of her breasts. If he kissed the soft skin of her throat, would she make the same soft hums of delight as she did when she enjoyed a taste of cake? Would she writhe under his roaming hands?
For God’s sake, man, get control of yourself.He pivoted away from Charlotte and stared up at the rope dangling from the ceiling. His cock pulsed against his falls, demanding he take action. All she did was take off her jacket, and his imagination had run afoul. Desperate for a distraction, he wondered what they could do in an empty barn until the rain stopped. His cock hardened painfully at the possibilities running through his mind. He sucked in a deep breath.
“Charlotte, have you ever swung and jumped into a pile of hay?”
“What? No, of course not.” He imagined her nose wrinkling at the thought.
“Not even as a child? I never did either. Miles and I watched the stable boys once. It looked like loads of fun. We weren’t allowed, of course.” He headed for one of the ladders. “You have to be brave. You have to let go at just the right moment.”
Daniel climbed the ladder to the loft. Anything to get him away from the temptation of Miss Grisham’s lush curves. When he reached the top, he found nothing but more hay. Carefully he stepped through the fragrant hay until he could lean out and grasp the length of rope. Charlotte stood underneath the loft, her face tilted up.
“You’re not actually going to jump, are you?” she called out in an alarmed voice.
“Of course, I am. Stand back, madam.” He grasped the rope with both hands, then took a few steps backward. He gave the rope a good strong tug testing the anchor it was tied to. Then with three long strides, he flung himself off the edge of the loft. The sensation of flying through the air made his heart race. With a yell of elation, he let go of the rope and fell into a soft bed of hay. Fragments flew up all around him, floating down in a cloud of dust particles. Daniel closed his eyes, trying to savor the excitement of those few moments of freedom from gravity.
