Little Bit Wicked

“Bloody hell!” The words escaped Geoffrey’s mouth as he crested the hill. He’d promised, hadn’t he? Leave the skirts alone until his engagement was certain. Well, at least his choice was certain although the lady was not yet approached. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip as he breathed in the scene below him. He’d ridden through a maze of flowering thickets following a path not meant for a horseman. Boredom and curiosity had kept his eyes glued to the trail and then this!

He shaded his eyes; no one anywhere near; just the girl, a feast laid out before him. From here he could see she’d removed her shoes and stockings and was preparing to wade in the small lake. No, perhaps bathe. As he watched, the vision unlaced her gown and stepped out of it. He grinned in anticipation. With quick decision, he dismounted and let the reins drop. His mount was well trained, content to graze.

Who was she, out here all alone? Circling the slope he picked his way toward the protection of weeping willows to hide his approach. Perhaps they could pass the afternoon in idle play. Hell, even lively conversation would be appreciated. He was weary of the stress of courtship, proper protocol, what passed for civilized gentry in this country. Naples had been wicked and exciting. Northern Italy was peaceful, too peaceful.

His red-gold hair was beginning to curl about his neck in the heat as he made his way between the trees. Thick gold lashes almost hid the deep blue of his eyes as they narrowed in the dappled sunlight. He’d lost sight of her there in the trees. Now he stepped into the clearing where several broad rocks bordered the water and stopped short.

Her back was to him; a perfect back that narrowed to a slim waist flaring to womanly hips. Her arms were raised as she pulled her short chemise over her head. The heart shape of firm buttocks invited his touch and his mouth went dry.

The lovely form bent forward and dived into the lake with barely a splash. Alarm came close to causing him to run to her aid before he realized the girl was stroking out with her arms as gracefully as a swan. Perfectly nude, she moved through the clear water.

Dazed, Geoffrey stepped back into the shadows and watched, his heart beating a rapid tattoo. Barely an hour earlier he’d been whispering sweet nothings into the ear of Margery Omar-DuBois, his choice of bride-to-be. Tomorrow night the announcement would be made of their engagement if her parents agreed. And he was sure they would. After all, he was a catch. The eldest of the St.James boys, he’d inherit his father’s earldom with all its privileges and wealth.