The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,101

could do to hold her, his arms shaking from the effort. She might look fragile and frail, but she was surprisingly substantial.

“Please, Jago … more,” she whined, straining to take him deeper.

“I like hearing you beg,” he said through gritted teeth, and then brought her down hard while thrusting at the same time.

She made a needy whimpering sound that drove him half mad and he drummed into her with vigorous thrusts, pumping wildly until his body refused to obey his commands.

He gave a breathless laugh. “The old man is tired now,” he gasped as he lowered her, the muscles in his arms jumping and shaking.

Her body was in motion before the last word left his mouth.

Jago groaned. “Yes—ride me, Benna.”

She rolled her hips sinuously, posting him with controlled, undulating strokes that soon sheened her lithe torso with sweat. She made it look effortless, but he saw the elegant, powerful musculature at play beneath her pale skin.

The sight was almost painfully erotic and, yet again, he raced far too quickly toward his climax.

Jago slid a hand between her thighs and circled her bud with his thumb, working her as relentlessly as she did him.

“Yes, that’s right, darling,” he praised when she began to shake. “Come for me.”

“Jago!” she rasped, her rhythm becoming erratic as her first contraction closed around him.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her down, his back arching off the bed as he spent in violent, body-wracking spasms.

“Jago,” she whispered, shuddering once before slumping down on top of him.

I love you, Benna.

Jago wasn’t sure if he’d said that out loud, or only thought it.

I hope I said it.

And that was the last semi-coherent thought he had before his arms closed around her damp, slender body and he sank into blissful oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Corwall

1817

Present Day

Lenshurst Park was already bustling with activity when Jago and Benna rode into the stables an hour after first light.

To Jago’s surprise their absence the night before hadn’t raised any eyebrows.

And why should it? he realized with something of a shock. After all, they were merely a master and his male servant taking shelter in the middle of the storm.

Nance met him in the foyer and helped Jago out of his overcoat. “I told Mr. Toomey that was what you would have done. Also, John Dixon sent his oldest son by this morning, it seems one of the old oaks around his barn was struck by lightning and he asked for your permission to cut it down.”

“Of course, send Gordon over with a message and tell him to help Dixon if needed.”

“Very good, my lord.”

When Jago reached his chambers Toomey regarded his rumpled, ruined clothing with a longsuffering look that made him laugh. “You see,” he teased as the valet helped him out of his coats. “This is why I should not be allowed to have nice things. You’d better lay out my oldest leathers and coat as I’ll be tearing about most of the day inspecting the damage from last night’s storm.”

Once he was shaved, bathed, and dressed he went down to breakfast. By the time he entered the breakfast room it was still only nine and he was surprised to see Mariah eating so early.

“Oh, Uncle—I’d heard you were back. Did you stay in the hunting cottage near the Collingsworth farm?” she asked, heaping marmalade on her toast.

“Yes,” he said, frowning slightly. “How did you—” His frown deepened and his niece’s face flushed.

Mariah chewed her lip. “I really wasn’t trying to listen but Mama summoned Nance when you didn’t come for dinner. It was he who thought you might have sat out the storm with Ben.”

He tried not to be annoyed at Mariah—after all, it was no great secret where he’d spent the evening—but she really needed to learn to respect private conversations.

He decided he was not in the mood for fighting that battle today.

Before he could ask her why she was awake so early the door opened and Benna entered. She hesitated upon seeing Jago and inclined her head. “Good morning, my lord, Lady Mariah.”

“Ben.” Jago’s body tensed as erotic images from only a few hours ago assaulted him, when the cool, reserved-looking woman across from him had been wild and demanding in her passion, riding him to a lather.

Her tanned skin flushed, as if she could see what he was thinking.

“Hallo, Ben,” Mariah said around a mouthful of toast. “Are we still taking out the gig today?”

“If it’s not too mucky, my lady.”

“Cat won’t be joining us,” Mariah said, “She’s going to Ria’s