Man of Her Affairs

Completely unaware of her change of mood, James's patience was wearing thin. Had a bit of her sanity dislodged when he shook her? The woman seemed to be struggling to form words all at a sudden, her lips tensing and tugging as if she were trying not to smile. She cleared her throat delicately.

'I am Miss Grey,' she said, finally.

'There we are, Ridgley. Miss Grey, as I'm sure you both witnessed, nearly got herself shot. We were just discussing her need for a chaperone.'

'A discussion is not how I would describe it,' he heard her mutter. Louder, she addressed his friends. 'Perhaps, sirs, you will be more polite than your companion and deem me worthy of an introduction.' The twinkle in her eye drew out twin smiles from both men.

Stepping forward, Richard executed a smart bow. 'Richard Darnsford at your service, Miss. And Mr. Sunshine here,' he smirked, 'is actually Mr. James Rochester.'

Michael followed smoothly. 'Michael Ridgley.' Rising from his bow, he gave her an appraising look. From behind his back appeared her pistol, which he rotated in his hands slowly. He didn't make to hand it back. 'I couldn't help but notice your skill with a gun, Miss Grey. May I ask what would a young lady need a gun for in London?'

James fancied he saw a shift in Miss Grey's expression. 'Mr. Ridgley, I have not always lived in such a safe place as London, and old habits are hard to break.'

She gave James an arch look. 'It is why I feel that a chaperone is unnecessary, but as I am in such a place where appearances are everything, I must allow myself to be followed by a bumbling fool who would fail to be of any assistance if anything untoward did indeed happen to my person.' She glanced up at the sky. 'Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must be on my way.' She held out her hand for her pistol.

Collecting his coat, James stepped forwards. 'I will escort you, Miss Grey'

A look of exasperation flicked across her face before she covered it with a bland smile. 'Mr. Rochester, thank you, but I don't need an escort. I can look after myself perfectly well.'

'It is not for your safety I offer my services.'

She looked at him, expressionless.

He looked back, equally blasé.

After a few moments of this stalemate, she began to look thoughtful, and then a smile started to creep across her face till it was a full-fledged grin. James felt himself respond in a flush of heat and a torturous tightening of his loins, yet he didn't miss the mischievous glint in her eye.

'As you wish, Mr. Rochester. However,' and here, her smile turned devilish, 'I shan't wait for you if you fall behind.'

Then, before James could make another move to retain her, Miss Grey flitted away and swung swiftly onto her horse. Immediately, it surged forward into a gallop, clearing the field in moments.

Without a word, James snatched the woman's gun from his companion's hand and stuffed it into his coat pocket, then mounted Duke and swung him round to follow the infuriating woman, leaving his friends to look after him in amazement.

*

Charlotte couldn't help grinning as she rode away from the men. The look of surprise on their faces as she'd swung up onto Saber, a trick she'd learnt from a Bedouin tribesman in Morocco, was priceless. Especially that of Mr. Rochester. She shook her head, her copper locks whipping behind her in the wind. Something about that man just put her back up, more so than any other.

Traveling with her father through out the colonies, and lands that England wished to be her colonies, Charlotte had dealt with many males who had thought to control her over the years, ever since she was sixteen. Many just couldn't reconcile with the fact that she was an independent woman. Both financially and...well, personally. And usually, with just a few choice comments and scathing looks, they all feel into line, left her alone or just admitted defeat.

But this stranger, all stern features and hazel eyes so light they were golden -- a warm blush ran through her body as she remembered his hands at her waist - somehow made her want to stand up even taller and make him stand at attention.

After six years of traveling abroad, her father had suddenly come to the realization that his daughter needed to take her place in society, so had brought her back to London to stay with her grandparents.

But by then it was too late. She was already set in her ways, her behavior released from the confining society rules too long.

She knew she couldn't change, but out of respect for her family, Charlotte tried to tone down her autonomous streak. She knew she could never hope to find a husband, at least not one in England. Yet, she was becoming tired of pretending to be gracious and patient and dutiful and she found that each day required her to focus harder.

Except now, in one conversation, all that focus had dissipated in an instant. Staring into that angry gaze, Charlotte had found her real self come to the fore.

It had frightened her.

It had delighted her.

With an odd sense of anticipation, Charlotte bent low over Saber, thrilling in the way he surged beneath her, the sound of his hooves beating against the ground and how the bright park swept past her. She was so lost in the moment that it took a few minutes for her to realize that a second set of hooves was coming up behind her.

Glancing back, Charlotte saw Mr. Rochester had, indeed, followed her. And he was catching up.

Without warning she swung down a path and cut across a clearing, before bursting through a low bank of bush. Determined to out maneuver the man, she then steered Saber to gallop along one of the bordering fences, which after a few minutes was intercepted by a copse of trees. Instead of passing right through, Charlotte allowed Saber to slow down and stop. Together, they stood beneath the protection of the umbrella of branches and waited. First one, then three, then five minutes passed.

Silence.

It seemed that she had managed to get rid of Mr. Rochester.

Slowly, Charlotte directed Saber out from beneath the trees, keeping a wary eye out, just incase. The man was not waiting out side the border of trees, and she felt herself relax. Strangely enough, though she felt a certain smugness at managing to defy Mr. Rochester, she felt a bit disappointed that he hadn't managed to keep up.

With an internal shake of the head, Charlotte cursed herself a fool and decided to make her way towards the edge of the park where she had left her chaperone. Surely, if the groomsman was smart enough, he would have waited for her there.

Standing up in her saddle, she looked around to find her bearings. She grimaced. She was on the other side of the park from the gate through which she had entered. It was the least fashionable area thus the least frequented, but she did not relish the thought of having to ride sidesaddle back through the fast filling park.

'You took your time, Miss Grey.'

Charlotte stilled in shock. How did he-?

Mr. Rochester moved out slowly from behind an ancient oak, leading his horse out from the tree's deep shadows. Its branches nearly touched the ground, making it the perfect hiding place.

She watched silently as he approached, fighting the urge to kick Saber into a gallop once again. She would not run from this man.

'You're quite an accomplished rider, Miss Grey. Ordinarily, I think you would have been able to outmaneuver most men. However,' he said, halting beside Saber, 'I am not most men.' His eyes locked with hers and held, his gaze intense and direct and - Charlotte had to remember how to breathe - hot.

James was silent for a moment, then whispered: 'Dismount from your horse.'

She didn't obey immediately, just stared down at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

A shade of a smile touched his mouth. She would obey. 'Dismount from you horse, or I shall remove you myself.' He allowed his eyes, not his tone, to convey his warning.

Slowly, as if in a trance, she dismounted and turned to face him, but as he looked down into her face, he saw she was a lot more composed than he'd thought. Frowning slightly, she seemed to come to a decision.

'Mr. Rochester, what is this about?'

'This, milady, is about your blatant lack of common sense, your disregard for propriety and your naivety of the danger that surrounds you.'

'You do not strike me as one to care much about propriety.'

'Is that so? And what, pray tell, gives you that impression?'

'I have seen and known many men like yourself, Mr. Rochester. I know a seducer when I see one!' she clapped her hand over her mouth, obviously surprised at her outburst.

His pulse leapt at her bold statement, even as his brows rose at its audacity. Without warning, an insatiable curiosity overcame him as he wondered in what way had she 'known' these men.

He let her squirm in the silence that followed before speaking. 'Putting aside your experience, Miss Grey, I require a promise from you. A promise that you will never enter public without a chaperone again.'

'And who are you to me, sir, to demand this of me?' Her frustration was beginning to show, making her pace away from him towards one of the old oaks.

Strolling after her casually, he found himself beneath the tree's canopy. 'Just a concerned member of society, and one that obviously knows more about the dangers of the city than you do.'

At that, she whipped around and gave him one of the fiercest glares he had ever seen. Mi-ow.

'Mr. Rochester, I admit that I do not know all the rules of London society, but that does not mean I am a dimwit, nor will I be treated as such. I have been in cities far more squalid and volatile than this one, and I hardly think my short ride in the park constituted the level of danger you believe it has.'

If only she knew. This hunter had his arrow aimed right at her.

'And I think you underestimate your situation.'

'Oh please, I am in no danger whatsoever.'

'You are wrong, Miss Grey.' Why wouldn't she listen to him? She defied him at every turn, boldly standing her ground, stubbornly refusing to accept his authority.

Damn, it turned him on.

No woman had ever presumed to know more than him. Had ever stood up to him with such determination. Well, except his mother, but bloody hell, that was his mother! Miss Grey stood straight, eyes unwavering, head held high, a look of complete confidence on her face. Her refusal to submit to him perversely increased his desire.

He couldn't believe how much he wanted her, the feeling was so violent. He realized that this need went beyond merely wanting to be inside of her: it was primal, animalistic.

He wanted to mount her, rut her like a beast, each thrust proclaiming his dominance over her.

He was appalled at himself. He was turned on all the more.

He wouldn't be able to stop himself. His body was straining towards her and all he could think about was punishing her, making her see what she refused to see. She was in danger. In danger of him.

He was so conceited! Charlotte had to focus hard on counting down from ten so she wouldn't completely loose her temper. Ten. And it didn't help that she was attracted to the man.

Yes, she admitted it. Besides, it was the only explanation for the tight, rapid beating of her heart and the slowly coiling heat in her abdomen.

Every time she allowed her gaze to be caught by his, a jolt of awareness flashed through her, ending in an odd tingle between her thighs. She glanced up. His chin rose arrogantly. Nine. He crossed his arms, and tilted his head to the side, as if surveying an errant child. Eight. A half smile twisted his lips. Seven. Perhaps the count down would help control her desire as well. Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn back to his. Si-

And all thoughts flew from her mind.

Because he was staring at her, and in a way she had never been stared at before. That gaze could only described as...hungry.

His eyes didn't waver as she gazed back, but instead seemed to turn to molten hot amber. Then they darkened, and she knew. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that they darkened with desire.

Because she felt her own do the same.

She took a step back without a thought. Leisurely, he followed her, like a hunter who knew his prey was ensnared. Taking two steps, he was suddenly, achingly close.

Her breath began to quicken as she felt that coiling heat intensify. Suddenly, the area she had only ever thought of as her nether regions became sensitive and started to throb. Nervously, she licked her lips.

The next moment, he pushed her roughly up against a tree, effectively trapping her. He seemed to loom over her and his body was hard against hers, his heat seeping through the thin material of her dress.

Dear God, she could feel his thighs pressing up against her own.

Placing his palms against the tree on either side of her head, he leaned in close. 'There are wolves in these woods, Miss Grey. And I don't mean the canine kind.' She gasped as he thrust his knee roughly between her thighs, the hard length of his muscle jolting a wave of pleasure through her as it bumped against her throbbing parts.

He caught her dazed expression and, if possible, his eyes darkened further. 'If you won't heed my warnings, I can think of only one way to make you understand,' he said huskily, catching her chin between his long fingers.

Her lips parted as she felt his warm breath brush against her mouth, then her heart leaped abruptly as his lips pressed hard against her own. She didn't have a moment to think, not that she could as all ability to think was lost to her the moment their mouths touched, before his lips possessed hers in a brutal kiss. Hands sinking into her windswept hair, he pulled her closer as he nibbled, licked, nipped and, for one heart stopping moment, sucked on her lips. He was unyielding, hard and determined. Heat engulfed her as her body tightened in anticipation...for what, she didn't know.

Suddenly, she gave a breathy moan. This stranger, this arrogant, frustrating, devilishly handsome stranger, had begun to grind himself against the apex of her soft thighs, his muscled leg causing, with each stroke, a sinful shock of pleasure to shoot into her core.

Without hesitation he took advantage of her open mouth, his nimble tongue swooping into her warmth to taste her. With his lips, tongue and teeth, he proceeded to ring every ounce of sense and logic from her mind.

Before long, their breaths had turned ragged and they were gasping for air. All the while, James had been working his thigh between her own, delighting in each and every moan emitted deep from within Miss Grey's throat.

Then, he stopped.

He held back a smile as he felt her hips bear down on him before she realized what she was doing.

'What's the matter, you were enjoying it weren't you? Do it again,' he commanded softly, his voice searing her soul.

She looked away in embarrassment as the reality of her situation began to dawn, and tried to pull away. Quick as a flash, his hands grasped the cheeks of her bottom,

holding her in place. Holding still, he ground her against his thigh.

'Uh!' her head fell back, reality shut away as a pleasure she had never experienced roared through her.

He lent down so that his words dropped hotly against her ear. 'I'm not done with you yet, Miss Grey. Only once you do everything I say will I let you go. The quicker you obey, the quicker that will be. Now, again.'

'No, please. I-'

'Again!'

Her hips jerked against his thigh, the sweet friction of the material between them causing her to groan inwardly in frustration. What was he doing to her?

'Again...' his soft, burning whisper forcing her to moan in despair. She knew she couldn't escape unless he stepped away from her body. Her hands grasped his shoulders desperately, his body the only thing holding her up.

She felt her control slipping.

'Again.' He pushed harder into her as his tongue flicked against her earlobe. The pressure against her apex was almost painful, yet every little movement chased a flock of delicious tingles through her stomach and quivering thighs.

After a tense moment, she closed her eyes in shame and she rocked herself against him in a shallow scooping motion, subtly trying to rub that extra sensitive spot that he had rubbed so perfectly. She gritted her teeth in frustration. Her skirts were in the way.

As if reading her thoughts, he picked her up, hiked up her skirts and resettled her seat on his leg all in the space of a moment. Charlotte's eyes widened in shock. His rough breeches chafed against her intimate flesh.

He groaned. 'No unmentionables, milady? You naughty, naughty, girl.' He sucked in a shuddering breath. 'Dear God, I can feel you seeping onto my thigh.'

Charlotte whimpered as humiliation and desire warred within her. Never had she ever thought that she would be in such a situation with a man, and every bit of her rational mind urged her to fight and flee, preferably to another country. She felt so out of control, so vulnerable. And such feelings that she normally avoided at all costs.

But she must secretly be the most base and wanton woman, because she had a sinking feeling that this stranger could command her to do anything and she would do it, here, against this tree, in a public park.

Mr. Rochester trailed his lips from her ear down the line of her neck, where he stopped to nuzzle the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out to taste her as his hands tightened on her derriere. 'I know what you need. If you feel what I feel, I know what you need. Now, Again.' He sweetened the deal by sliding a hand up to squeeze her soft breast.

And with that, she couldn't deny him. Arching, she began to grind against him, the added friction of his breeches against her bare flesh slowly pushing her towards the edge.

James felt a surge of masculine power as he felt her resistance fall.

Her inexperienced movements, gaining in desperation as she sought some sort of release, were so erotic it fueled his rampant desire and he felt himself grow heavy and thick. Every frantic thrust of her pelvis against him caused her thigh to press against his erection, creating a sweet torture.

After each buck, she paused, as if some part of her mind still retained the sense that she should stop, forcing him to repeat his command over and over, his hand on her bottom encouraging each stroke.

'Again,' he whispered darkly. A breathy moan escaped from her lips.

'Again.' He swooped in for another searing kiss, her siren mouth too tempting to resist.

'Again!' he breathed harshly against her mouth, feeling her thighs tightening around his as she neared her end.

Suddenly, he slipped his hand between them and beneath her skirt, quickly finding her dripping heat. Running a cursory finger through her slick folds, he delved right into her tight, wet channel.

'Yes!' the woman in his arms cried out, her voice thin and high in passion as her tight muscles clenched.

James felt himself go cold, then flaming hot in a split second. He couldn't believe his ears. The blatantly wanton proclamation was so erotic falling from the lips of this innocent that he suddenly had to fight to retain control of himself.

He gritted his teeth in concentration. He couldn't rut her against a tree, in broad daylight, in a public place! He just couldn't. Already his arousal was beginning to pain in unfulfilled need. He wouldn't be able to find release.

Abruptly, a dark place within him opened up.

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. 'Yes, what?' he asked harshly.

'Yes, that, your finger...!' her eyes were scrunched closed, her jaw clenched tensely as if in pain.

'Do you want it?'

She didn't answer him, but a blush crept onto her cheeks.

'Do you want it?!'

'Yes!'

'Too bad.' And with that he withdrew his hand and stepped away.