Final Cost (The Winter Trilogy #3)

9. Tamsyn

9

Tamsyn

My phone rings with Lucien’s special ring tone later that afternoon, when I’m alone in my bedroom, lying on my bed with a Julia Quinn historical romance I can’t force myself to read and bored out of my mind. I’ve developed the nasty habit of superimposing Lucien’s face onto the face of whatever Bridgerton hero I’m currently reading about and wishing Ms. Quinn would swoop in and solve my romantic problems in a few hundred pages. God knows I need some kind of expert to help me sort through what my heart wants and all the warnings my head screams at me.

Anyway, I can’t snatch the phone up quickly enough, as thrilled as I am dismayed to hear from Lucien. My plan is for us to avoid and ignore each other. And I mean to. I absolutely would let the call go to voice mail. Or, better yet, block him altogether. If only I weren’t so curious about any update on Winwood’s disappearance. Knowing Lucien, he’s probably already hired a team of investigators with bloodhounds to find him.

“Meet me out front,” Lucien says, his voice a low rumble in my ear when I answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good—” I say, my heart already thumping into overdrive.

“Now,” he says, and hangs up.

An internal struggle follows. Let’s call it brief. Let’s agree that my innate nosiness and overwhelming desire to see Lucien again quickly override my hatred of barked commands and make it impossible for me to do anything other than throw my sneakers back on and head downstairs. Am I proud of these moral failings? No. But I want the record to reflect that I do force him to wait a full three minutes before I walk downstairs at an unhurried pace. So I put those tiny triumphs firmly in my column. But when I get outside, I don’t hear him at first. Until I hear the crunch of gravel behind me and look around to discover —

“Oh, my God,” I say, the breath whooshing out of my voice on a wave of youthful fantasies run wild.

Lucien sits astride a towering horse. Man and beast are so tall that I find myself craning my neck to take them both in. As always when he’s around, my attention is drawn first to Lucien. He never disappoints. He’s changed into stretchy tan riding pants, the kind that are a loving caress to his thigh muscles and his impressive bulge in front. Everything is on beautifully masculine display. Forget gray sweatpants, ladies. If you want to see what your man has going on below the waist, these riding pants are the way to go. He’s also wearing gleaming black riding boots and a white polo shirt that showcases the broad stretch of his shoulders and rippling muscles in his arms. For added intrigue, his aviator shades are firmly in place. He’s even holding one of those little whippy things — a crop , I think it’s called. People also use these as sex toys. I flash back to an episode of Sex and the City where Samantha gave Carrie her crop to use on Big. That leads to an immediate flash of wondering what Lucien would do to me with the crop if I let him, but I immediately yank my naughty thoughts away from that image.

Focus on the horse, Tam.

My gaze switches to the other ridiculously masculine beast on display. I almost swoon. He’s dark brown but not quite black, with a forehead star and the kind of chocolate eyes with lush lashes that make kids all over the world fall in love the second they see a horse. I croon with appreciation, my instant adoration for him tempered only by my sudden increased hate for Lucien for putting me in this position. He truly is a master manipulator. He knows that while I may curse the ground he walks on, there’s no way I can walk away from this .

Taking full advantage of the wind blowing in his favor, he slides down from the saddle in one fluid movement that showcases him as the athlete he is. Then he stands there holding the reins of this giant creature as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to him. He’s truly breathtaking. And that’s before he hits me with all his focused attention. To his credit, though, he keeps any sign of triumph to a minimum, which I appreciate.

“I wanted you to meet a horse. Since it’s so important to you.”

My excitement is such that I’m not sure how I’m keeping the balls of my feet on the ground, much less the blossoming delight off my face. “What should I do?” I say, not wanting to do anything wrong and make the horse hate me for life.

“Come around to the left.” Lucien’s voice is a seduction in itself, darkly authoritative for both me and the horse. “Good girl. Now give him a second to get your scent.”

I go still and wait as I eat up this praise, but the horse has evidently been through this drill before and knows what to do. He gives me a big snuffling whiff, then nudges my arm.

A friendship offer if ever I’ve seen one. I’m only sorry I don’t have a beaded bracelet to present him as a gift.

Naturally, I melt. “Oh, my God. I love him,” I say, abandoning my efforts to be hostile to Lucien no matter what and letting the smile come.

Lucien grins in response. “Looks mutual. This is Orion. Orion, meet Ms. Scott.”

I edge closer, reaching for the velvety muzzle and giving Orion a little rub. He edges closer, whereupon I lose my head and press my face to his, inhaling his scent. Musky earth. Hay. Grass. Leather. Heaven.

When I open my eyes again, it’s to discover Lucien reaching into his breast pocket and producing several baby carrots. “Want to give him a snack?”

“Yes!”

I hold out my hand. Lucien opens it flat and places the carrots on my palm. Orion, it turns out, does not require an invitation. There’s a startling flash of giant white teeth, although I’m not worried because Lucien maintains his firm grip on the reins. Then there’s a bit of wetness, a snuffle, a series of loud crunches and the carrots are gone.

I’ve never been more thrilled by anything in my entire life. I smile at Lucien, my gratitude probably shining through every pore I possess. He’s very still as he stares back at me, those reflective sunglasses no barrier to the intensity I feel burning me from the other side of the lenses. His plan to make it impossible for me to keep hating him is a brilliant success.

Which means it’s time for me to go.

So I douse my smile and give Orion a final pat before backing up a step. “Thanks for letting me meet him. I’d better get back.” I say it as though I have some prior commitment. And maybe I do. God knows I wouldn’t want to miss the shadows shifting across my bedroom walls or any of the dust moats floating by.

“You don’t want to go for a ride?”

I freeze, immediately trapped by all the temptation in that silky voice. This is no horse ride. This is a seduction. If he wanted me to go riding with him, why would he bring only one horse? He probably has a thousand horses in his barn, wherever it is. If I get on this horse with him, we’ll have to be in close physical contact the whole time. Unless he plans to let me ride while he leads, which I seriously doubt. I don’t know everything about Lucien, but I know that much. So this is a bad idea. The worst. On the other hand, I waited twenty-two years for the opportunity to ride a horse. Letting this one slide seems like a bad move.

Lucien stands there watching me struggle through it all, his expression unreadable.

“He’s big, but is he big enough for two people?” I finally say, deciding to focus on the potential danger to the horse rather than that to my equilibrium.

“Don’t worry. We won’t go far.”

So there’s my choice. I can hurry back upstairs to re-coop myself up in my room or I can ride this horse with Lucien. As always when it comes to Lucien, I make the wrong choice.

I nod.

Lucien swings into motion, surging up into the saddle before I can change my mind. Then he reaches for me. “Put your foot in the stirrup,” he says, taking a firm grip of my hand. “The other one. There you go. Now swing your other leg over.”

I mimic his motion, and the next thing I know I’m up in the saddle behind him. Which is, just so you know, way higher than it looks from the ground. Impossibly high.

“Scoot back a bit,” Lucien says over his shoulder. “You ready?”

No, I’m not ready. The saddle isn’t exactly made for two butts. So that’s one thing. Another is that my dress’s skirt is now hiked up and my bare thighs are pressed against the back of his thighs. There’s nowhere else for them to go. I’ve got my arms looped around his waist. Again — no other place for them, nothing else for them to hang onto. He’s so strong and warm. So unyieldingly masculine. The response from my female bits is immediate and overwhelming. Instant blood flow to my nipples and clit, generating instant arousal. The driving desire to press my face to the strong column of his neck, stroke his thighs and delve between his legs to see what kind of response I can get out of his big dick. It’s hard to say which one is more dizzying—my carnal need for him or the effort it takes to hold myself back from doing the things that have become second nature to me. It’s the worst kind of exquisite torture. But of course, this was his plan all along and we both knew it. But there’s no time for regrets. No time to remind myself what an idiot I am when it comes to him. So I take a deep breath and lie my ass off.

“I’m ready.”

He clicks his tongue, Orion responds immediately and we’re off.

Every bit of it is fantastic. The breeze through my hair. Clinging tightly to Lucien’s trim waist and pressing my body against his broad back as he absorbs the horse’s flow. The rhythmic motion of our thighs rising and falling with Orion’s movements. The horse’s restrained power and fluidity. The unmistakable eroticism of the saddle thrusting against the sweet spot between my legs. It all goes straight to my head, making me giddy with laughter and excitement.

If I’ve ever been alive before this moment, I’m not sure I remember.

I don’t know how long we ride, heading across fields to a grove of trees inside Ackerley’s fenced perimeter. Five minutes. Maybe ten. He takes the horse through some paces, faster sometimes and slower others. I’m not sure if we’re galloping or cantering, and it doesn’t matter. It all feels fast to me. Joyous. Unspeakably arousing. But then, way too soon, Lucien slows the horse and we stop beneath a giant weeping willow tree whose sheltering branches have room for us and Orion.

Lucien slides down, then reaches up to help me down. And don’t think I fail to notice our closeness or the slow slide of my body against his on my way to the ground. Luckily, a brief reprieve comes when he turns to tie Orion’s reins to one of the lower branches. Orion immediately dips his head and starts munching grass. Much as I’d like to watch him all day and avoid unfolding events, Lucien has already taken off his sunglasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket and hit me with the full weight of his attention. I’m not ready. Especially since there are no distractions out here. No hustle and bustle from the staff or the possibility of Roman or Daniel coming around the corner to rescue me from my own spiraling feelings.

Just me and Lucien and the seething mass of unsaid words and feelings between us.