Throwing him an arched look over her shoulder, Frederica grinned and cantered towards a large red barn. Instead of stopping, she passed it and rode on until they came to a blanket with a picnic basket underneath a tree, near a wooden fence. She had been waiting for him, and for once, he didn’t mind being her prey.
Dismounting, he tied the reins of his horse to the fence. ‘What would you have done if you hadn’t met me?’
She pushed back her bonnet and let her wild, curly brown hair fall in tresses down her back. ‘Found another handsome officer to share my picnic with me.’
He would not rise like a fish to her bait this time. ‘You find me handsome.’
Finishing her knot, she grinned at him. ‘Very. Which is most fortunate, because we are being forced to marry by ourwickedmothers.’
His mother’s illness was not her fault. ‘My mother isn’t wicked.’
No. His poor mama carried the burden of her husband’s profligacies. And if she had leaned too heavily on him when he was younger, who else did she have? When she first became sick, Jeremy had been toddling about in short coats. Even at a young age, Samuel had wanted to help her. To be someone that she could depend on. And if Mama sometimes cried to get her way, he could not fault her. All the blame rested with his father, who was six feet under.
Frederica giggled, placing her hands on her face. ‘My mother is delightfully wicked and I would not want her any other way. She could outbargain the devil himself.’
Lacing her arm with his, she pulled him to the blanket and asked her groom to go to the nearby field to set up the bottles for their shooting match. Alone they ate their picnic and Samuel could not help but yawn several times. In response, Frederica grabbed his head and pulled it down into her lap, stroking his hair. Samuel felt like a contented cat. He had no desire to leave her lap, nor for her to stop touching his curls. She even took off her gloves and he felt her soft skin against his. Closing his eyes, he could have purred.
‘Poor Samuel, you look so tired.’
He nodded, unwilling to open his eyes or his mouth.
Frederica continued to stroke his hair. ‘I wish that I could help you more.’
Samuel only made a sound in response—a mix between a moan and a sigh. Then he felt her lean down and nip at his ear. His eyes popped open in surprise and he turned his head.
Frederica was above him, her head haloed in light, smiling. ‘Do you mind terribly that you have to marry me?’
He blinked. Truthfully, he did not mind at all. In fact, he could barely wait to say his vows and make her his in every possible way. But he was not stupid enough to tell her that. She would only tease him more. ‘I can think of worse fates.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Truly?’
‘No.’
Frederica leaned down and pressed her lips lightly against his, tantalisingly brushing them over and over his mouth. He reached his hand up to cup her face and pull her down to him. His tongue slipping between her lips as she gasped. He tasted her moan more than heard it as his tongue stroked hers and teased the sensitive spots in her mouth. Not breaking the kiss, she twisted until her body was lying next to his. Her hands moved to his hair and her fingers raked through his curls. Samuel could not help but deepen the kiss, rolling his chest on top of her soft one. Her curvaceous figure always set him on fire. Pausing for breath, he made a trail of kisses to her neck and then her ear. He licked the lobe and then nipped it, like she had his.
She yelped and wiggled out of his hold. His head hit the ground on the blanket as if waking up from a delightful dream to reality.
Frederica got to her feet, brushing out the wrinkles on her skirt. Her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed. She looked as if she had been properly kissed. ‘I only kiss young men who wish to marry me.’
Samuel sat up, running his hands through his own messy hair. Perhaps it was for the best that their embrace ended when it did. Their kisses were growing more frantic and his control was almost gone. He would not be promiscuous like his father, even if Frederica had him hot under the collar all the time. ‘And what do you do with young men who don’t wish to marry you?’
She pulled a pistol out of her reticule and blew on the barrel. ‘Shoot them... Shall we have our match? Jim is waiting discreetly away from us. He’s such a dear.’
Frederica offered him her hand and Samuel let her help him to his feet. He went to his mare and took the pistol out of his pack. He would need a weapon he felt familiar with if he wanted to give her a proper match. At Hampford Castle, not even her father or brothers could beat her in a shoot-off.
‘If I recall, you’re a rather good shot.’
She beamed back at him. ‘I am the best.’
‘We shall see.’
They walked thirty paces from the fence. Samuel allowed Frederica to shoot first. She barely aimed her weapon before firing it. A green bottle exploded off the fence.
Frederica grinned, pointing her smoking gun at him. ‘Your turn.’
Samuel cocked his pistol back and took a few moments to aim, before squeezing the trigger. His shot hit the top of a clear bottle, but it was not central enough to shatter the entire glass. As a boy, he had hated losing to her. But as a man, he could appreciate her rare skill. ‘Your point.’
She shot five more times. Each time she hit her mark. Samuel had never seen Frederica’s equal with the pistol in any officer in Wellington’s army. He was not a bad shot and hit his mark three times, but she never missed a bottle. Each time she aimed, the glass shattered. Frederica beat him handily and her groom, Jim, clapped, hooted, and hollered. The young man was clearly on her side.