The allure of a woman pleasuring herself by a riverbank is too far a temptation for any man to witness, let alone this elusive lord, particularly when joining her would be so much sweeter.
Likened by her family to a carriage horse, Lady Claire knows gentlemen only consider her a possible match due to the rich dowry her father dangles in their faces. She had accepted this, until a mysterious man introduces her to a world of passion and pleasure.
Damon, a rich and most cantankerous lord, is not known for his sociable persona. While out hunting one day, he encounters a woman seeking fulfilment by the riverbank, her fingers getting her nowhere. He was a gentleman, after all, and it would be ill-mannered of him to allow her to go unaided. What red-blooded male wouldn’t assist a damsel in distress?
Living in the remote part of Australia called the Northern Territory, Danielle conforms to the typical Aussie persona. That is, if you think the typical Aussie sits around the BBQ with a beer in hand, dressed in a singlet, shorts and ‘pluggers’ (rubber thongs) thinking nothing of the 35 degree celsius heat with 100% humidity and ignoring the snapping handbags (saltwater crocodiles) swimming nearby. Yep, Danielle is certainly that typical Aussie on weekends, but during the week, she is somewhat different.
Transporting herself to a place of history, intrigue and fornication, Danielle writes historicals laced in scandal, lust and desire, with no thought to propriety or what’s socially considered ‘proper’. She adores the handsome rogue or the wild rake that refuses to acknowledge to the possibility of love or monogamy. What woman doesn’t like the allure of the wonton tempter, with his tightly fitted breeches and devilish smile? *swoons!*
Danielle believes there is something hugely gratifying about taming that wild gentleman, and is kind enough to haul us along for the ride.
A clear blue sky was a rarity at this time of year. England had the worst weather, apart from Scotland, perhaps, where it rained no matter what the season.
Damon knew he shouldn't complain, especially on a day as grand as this. The birds were singing, the wind whispered softly as it passed him, and the wildlife rustled in the underbrush. He was not after a small creature. No, he had his sights on a mighty stag. His man of business had mentioned seeing one in the area when he had recently journeyed from London. How prized would the animal look hanging on his wall? Of course, his study was already filled with the heads of other beasts, but Damon would make sure his staff found room for this creature's massive antlers.
Approaching the large, winding river where he hoped his prey would stop to drink, Damon was surprised to notice a white mare tethered to a fallen tree. The mare raised her head as he approached, though she paid him and his black stallion little mind, finding the greenery below more appealing. He noticed the horse wore a sidesaddle and Damon's eyebrows drew down as he looked for another steed. The mare was a fine horse, her saddle also of noble quality, yet it was unlikely a lady of nobility would have ridden out alone. A lady would never be found unchaperoned. It could ruin her reputation.
Scanning the tree line along the wide river, he became more puzzled as time progressed. Had the lady come to some harm? Where was she?
A sudden ripple in the water caught his attention. A woman rose, gasping for breath, taking the air deep into her lungs before she laughed, flipping onto her back, floating around as she gazed up at the blue sky.
It took Damon a moment to overcome his shock at the woman's sudden appearance before he noticed she wore nothing but her slip. A very sheer slip. His eyes moved hungrily over the wet material, which clung to the vibrant curves underneath. The round softness of her breasts and the darker shadow at the apex of her sex intrigued him, as it would any hot-blooded male. His cock hardened as he sat upon his steed, conflicted between twin desires—to watch, or to make the girl aware of his presence? The former won out, and he encouraged his steed backwards, into the thickness of the forest along the river, concealing their presence. He was thankful for the soft splatter of water falling from the small waterfall upstream, masking his steed's hoof falls.
Unable to bear not viewing her for long, Damon dismounted and tethered his stallion to a branch before hurrying back towards the river, where he perched himself against a tree like a hunter stalking his prey.
The girl, who he could now see clearly to be about eight and ten, perhaps, still floated carelessly on top of the water. She kicked her legs gracefully and ever so slightly, to keep herself from drifting downriver. Upon each movement, as a leg bent, the wet material of her slip clung to her sex, teasing him with glimpses of the hidden treasure.
His cock pulsed in his breeches, reminding Damon it had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Shifting his stance to release the tension behind the fabric, Damon groaned. Instead of easing his discomfort, it seemed to have advanced it. How divine it would feel to sink into the warmth of a woman's sheath at that moment, pounding into her heavenly softness with the sun's heat at his back. He shifted his stance again. Blast it!