During a restless night of tossing and turning, Ivy reached a conclusion. Sebastian playing at groom was an awful idea; he would inevitably turn the situation to his advantage. Before she was hopelessly muddled in a tangled mess, before he mucked one stall, or bridled a single horse to use as leverage, she must forego the bet. At three in the morning, her concession speech, complete with an appropriate level of sarcasm and humor, was concocted and rehearsed until it sounded perfectly believable.

Ivy intended to grab a scone and a gulp of tea in the dining room on her way to the stables, but a few guests, uninterested in the ride planned for the day, lingered around the table. She politely avoided questions regarding the activities planned for the earl, vastly relieved when no one ventured to make an inappropriate remark. Lord Bancroft stumbled in, sullen and bleary-eyed, to sit at one end of the huge table, studiously ignoring her.

A small crowd milled about the stables when Ivy arrived. They called out encouragement to someone inside. More people trickled into the courtyard as she weaved her way through and coming to a stop outside the double doors, she groaned. She was too late.

“I say, you missed a spot,” the Earl of Granger remarked. “Right there, Ravenswood.”

“Oh. Many thanks, Granger.” With a quick scoop of the muck rake, the offending bit of matter flew out of the stall and onto the polished boots of the stocky blonde earl. There were howls of amusement, echoed by the chuckles of a few stable boys gathered in the aisle ways. Fascinated to see a member of the nobility undertaking their task, each secretly hoped Ravenswood might undertake the mucking of all fifty-five stalls.

“Damnation, Ravenswood, you got me with that one!”

“Hmm,” Sebastian murmured. “That was the point.”

It was impossible to see all of Sebastian through the iron bars. Only the top of his head and those broad shoulders were visible as he labored within the box stall. While Ivy debated what to do, one woman detached herself from the group to walk toward her.

Touching Ivy’s arm, the lady grinned. “Who knew Ravenswood might stoop to such efforts to gain a woman’s favor?” Lady Caroline Robertson was a lovely woman with dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. A young, wealthy widow, she was popular and well thought of, and discreet in her affairs, enjoying a favorable reputation among interested gentlemen. Ivy believed the widow’s estate bordered Beaumont, Sebastian’s country estate, but she wasn’t certain. A tiny flame of resentment licked her with the thought.

“How lucky you are, my dear, to have the earl attending you today.” Caroline’s warm eyes touched on the stall where Sebastian worked so diligently then drifted back to meet Ivy’s.

“I intended on releasing him from the wager.” Ivy grimaced when another toss of the rake garnered more laughter.

“That wouldn’t do at all, my dear. If you believe he will allow you to forgive a debt, you’ve much to learn. The man always pays what he owes. And collects what is due.” The lady’s smile turned unconsciously sultry.

What remained of Ivy’s self-confidence disappeared like a puff of smoke. A romantic connection once existed between the earl and this old friend. Perhaps it still did. Strange how such matters held a great clarity now. Was it possible others could see what lurked beneath the surface when she and Sebastian were together? It was a disquieting thought.

“Have you known the earl for long, Lady Robertson?” The devil prodded her to ask the question.

Caroline’s laugh was far from malicious. Waving to a gentleman arriving at the stables, she admitted, “Long enough to know the man is an awful tyrant! Now, there’s Lord Daven, the handsome thing. He’s to be my companion today. Try not to tweak Ravenswood’s nose too much.” Then, with a sly wink, she added, “Unless you are interested in his ideas of retribution.”

Excusing herself, Caroline nearly sprinted across the courtyard, calling out to Lord Daven. Ivy stared after her in confusion as Sara came up to link arms with her.

“It would be for the best if you released him from the wager.”

Nodded at the group standing precariously close to where Sebastian worked, Ivy said, “I’m afraid to get any closer to tell him. Besides, I’ve just been advised Ravenswood will not allow it.”

“I should stay close to you today.” Sara smoothed away a few scone crumbs from the sleeve of Ivy’s riding habit. “It’s not safe, darling.”

“If I go through with it, I intend to keep him busy with plenty of demeaning tasks. He’ll not have time to attempt, nor think of improper things. And should he find a spare moment, the man will be so irritated, seduction will be the last thing on his mind.”

“It’s not safe,” Sara repeated when Sebastian lifted his head, scanning the faces of those gathered around. Like a tiger on the hunt for the lone gazelle left on the plains, he found Ivy in the crowd.

Ivy’s heart swelled. The man was worldly and handsome and oh, so dangerous. Her previous trepidation concerning his pursuit suddenly seemed to be a moot point. After all, he was no different from other members of the pack…regardless of the anticipation tingling in her veins every time those grey eyes of his slid her way.

Sara groaned in exasperation as Ivy returned Sebastian’s heated stare with an answering smile. The air between the two of them fairly crackled with electricity and people were whispering of it. “If you are not careful, you will find yourself truly ruined before this weekend is over. You are already being referred to as Ravenswood’s Lady Butterfly by some here.”

“It is much better than Poison Ivy,” Ivy replied with firm practicality. “Sara, you worry overmuch. In the midst of all these people, I am perfectly safe with the earl. As safe as you are with yours.”

Had Ivy bothered to notice, she would not have missed the guilty tremor in Sara’s voice, nor the flush in her cheeks when her friend breathed, “Safety in numbers, my dear, is vastly overrated. Certain men have little problem overcoming even that dubious handicap.”

* * *

Sebastian feigned concentration on the muck shovel gripped tight in his hand. Was Sara reminding Ivy to have a care for her reputation? Warning her away from him? Considering the challenge thrown at Bancroft last night, it would not be farfetched to think so. His interest in her was clear enough; upon their return to London, it would become blatantly obvious.

Ivy would ignore Sara’s warnings. She was close to succumbing, ready to drop into his lap like a bit of ripe fruit. The Revenge Situation, as he now referred to it, was moving along very well indeed.

After wiping his hands on a hot towel a stable lad offered him, he made his way to where the horses waited. On the other side of the courtyard, Ivy hugged Sara and began walking toward him. Hiding a smile, he whistled a light tune as he tightened the sidesaddle’s girth and adjusted the single stirrup on the mare assigned to her.

“I did attempt to catch you before it was too late. How could I know you were so eager to muck stalls?” Ivy stroked the dark bay mare nuzzling into her palm. “Hello, Lilly. Oh, you are a beauty, aren’t you?”

“Merely fulfilling my part of the wager.” Sebastian’s bow was mocking. “As your slave, I’m yours to command.”

“You are not to be my slave.” Her grin held no artifice. “Just a groom.”

“Let us not quibble over the designation.” Removing the halter, Sebastian dropped a bridle over the mare’s head, slipping in the bit with practiced ease.

“I do hope you have been given a steed befitting your new status. A cart horse, or a mule perhaps?”

Sebastian gathered up the reins to lead her horse from the railing. “I brought my own.” His nod indicated a dark gray stallion standing apart from the others. Occasionally, the beast flung out a massive rear hoof, followed with an inquisitive look from liquid dark eyes to observe the victim. When a boy carrying a grain bucket jogged by, the stallion bared his teeth and gave a low whinny. Recoiling in surprise, the lad dropped the tin container, spilling half the oats. The horse nickered in satisfaction, dipping his head to the limits of the reins tethering him to the post and lipping up the feed in record time while the youngster collected himself and the empty bucket. Shaking an angry fist, he hurried on before the stable master learned of the mishap and boxed his ears.

“Dear Lord,” Ivy breathed. “He is most certainly not a servant’s mount.”

Sebastian chuckled, wagging a finger at her in mock disappointment. “Like his owner, he is quite capable of behaving when necessary.”

The gray calmed with a quiet word from Sebastian, and as the bay mare came alongside him, nickered softly and lowered his head.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” Sebastian said to Ivy. “Raven has certain ideas how he should be greeted. Keep your hands level and approach from the side, so he may see you better. I’m unsure how he formed these opinions, but it’s easier to humor this small vice than to try and change him.”

“I’m not afraid,” Ivy retorted. “But I’ll blame you should I come away with half an arm missing.” She stroked Raven’s neck, wary enough not to get too close, but the horse stepped toward her, bumped his finely sculpted head into her chest and promptly dozed off in contentment.

Sebastian leaned in. “See? Nothing to be frightened of. In fact, I daresay he likes you.” Holding Ivy’s gaze across the expanse of Raven’s broad head, he smiled. “Your touch soothes him.”

“Do you think so? He seems half wild and not to be trusted.”

His laugh was soft. “Some things are better left wild. Like the roses I sent you. Their scent lingered far longer than ordinary hothouse roses, I vow.”

“That’s true although I despise roses…” Ivy bit her lip at the confession.

Sebastian cocked his head as her voice trailed away without an explanation for such a puzzling admission. Didn’t all women enjoy flowers, regardless of the variety, especially if a man thought to give them? Was this why she never kept the floral arrangements sent to her? He assumed she rejected the gifts simply because she relished toying with the men who gave them.

Ivy caressed Raven’s smooth forelock, her mouth tight against any further insights to the cogs of her mind. Sebastian allowed the moment to slip by and decided to focus instead on luring her to him.

“Are you ready to ride, Countess?” Dark with subtle meaning, the words curled around Ivy. When she swayed, he lowered his head to hers. He was so close to those sweet lips he longed to taste again. Unable to erase the flavor of her from his mind, he relived the night of the opera many times. How she came undone on his fingertips, as though she never experienced a climax before. How she clung to him when the wave overtook her. It was so bewitching, the way she reacted to his touch. He longed to slip his hands between her legs again, to elicit the same response again and again until she was limp with pleasure and begging for more.

Raven’s eyes snapped open as the grip upon the leather reins tightened

One quick kiss. No one watched them. He could steal a kiss. Just to sustain him until they were alone. The spark of panic in Ivy’s turquoise eyes told him she realized his intent.

“Come along, you two!” Alan’s voice was booming, tight with frustration. “If you insist on making calf eyes at each other all day, we can’t be blamed when you are left behind.”

Everyone was mounted and ready to depart, staring with ill-concealed amusement and curiosity. Sara, her blue eyes wide with alarm, seemed on the verge of wringing her hands.

Ivy moved until Raven’s sleekly muscled form was between them.

“Coward,” Sebastian whispered, his lips curved in a grin. “No kiss for your groom?”

She blinked. “I hardly think it proper to go about kissing grooms here at Bentley Park, but I shall consider it.” Pulling Lilly’s reins from his loose grip, she stepped to a nearby block to mount the mare on her own. No doubt overhearing her words, a young groom nearly broke his neck jumping to assist her.

Sebastian did not trust himself to reply, and while she swiftly regained her composure, he stood gawking like a simpleton.

Giving the groom a smile of thanks, Ivy settled into the saddle. “Well, maybe not a groom,” she clarified, gazing down from her lofty height, “but perhaps a gentleman who offers his assistance without expecting something in return?”

It was that enigmatic half smile, the flash of challenge in her eyes driving Sebastian’s insatiable need to conquer her. His hands tightened on Raven’s reins until the stallion stomped a hoof, tail swishing in irritation.

“It’s unwise to play games with me, Ivy,” he warned in a low voice, swinging up onto Raven’s back. “You won’t care to pay the price.”

Her reaction was a cool shrug. “You’ve yet to fulfill the wager you lost. Perhaps you are not as lucky as you believe.”

“We’ll see who emerges the true victor.” He nodded at the group trotting away from them. “Shall we join them or stay behind and devise a new wager?”

“You can be quite insufferable,” Ivy said with admirable calmness. “In fact, you recently were referred to as a tyrant.”

Sebastian’s gaze roamed over her. She was so damned beautiful, perched atop the dark mare, wearing an amethyst riding habit and those eyes flashing blue green fire at him. As a tyrant, he could snatch her down from that horse and have his way with her, do things that would have her pleading for more. “We can explore that, if you wish.”

In reply, Ivy nudged her mount forward, quickly trotting after the others while Sebastian chuckled at her avoidance of him and his suggestion.

The outing was enjoyable, although Sebastian insisted on stopping often for varied reasons. To check the bit on Ivy’s mare, to ensure the girth was tight enough, to alter a strap here, a strap there, adjust the stirrup on her saddle. Soon, others gleefully joined in to suggest items requiring his scrutiny.

Each time an inspection was undertaken, he demanded she dismount. Hands encircling her waist, he would swing her from the back of the horse, permitting her to find her footing only after an excruciating long glide down his body. Keeping his back to the others shielded his actions from curious eyes.

The party stopped beside a small, curving stream to allow the horses a bit of water and Sebastian stood at her knee, ready to tug her down once more.

“I insist you put a stop to this,” Ivy stared down at him, gripping the reins.

“What do you mean?” She’d been subjected to the journey down his body seven times thus far, and although immensely pleasurable, Sebastian neglected to consider the pure torture of it. By sheer willpower alone, he suppressed the erection lurking inside him, but it twitched to life each time she shimmied down his length.

“You know exactly what I mean!” Ivy hissed.

The first time Sebastian helped her dismount, she should have slapped him senseless instead of tolerating his actions. He knew she enjoyed his attentions even if she struggled to maintain an air of outraged modesty. Bloody hell…she played this innocent act with practiced flair, her dedication to the performance admirable. If he didn’t know any better, he might have fallen for it.

Slanting Ivy a wicked grin, he seized her about the waist. “Why, Countess, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She gripped the reins even tighter, eyes flashing with determination she would not be plucked from the mare’s back. “You-you are running out of excuses to justify your despicable actions.” When his hands lowered, her sigh of relief was audible.

How amusing she underestimated the depths of his resolve to be alone with her.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the single stirrup of the sidesaddle was unfastened. Ivy’s heel slid free as the iron separated from the leather. Her mouth dropped open in horror.

“Go on ahead,” Sebastian called to the others, his eyes raised and locked with hers. He grabbed her ankle, preventing her from furiously kicking him in the chest. “This damnable stirrup has come completely apart. It will take more than a minute or two to repair it.”

Sara watched them in tight-lipped disbelief and for a moment, Sebastian believed she would gallop straightaway to attach herself to Ivy. But Alan quickly reached to take the lady’s mare by the bit, murmuring something before letting her go. With one last worried glance over her shoulder, Sara wheeled her horse around.

Sebastian flashed Alan a grin of thanks as the others reluctantly moved away from the spring. When the last of them disappeared through the meadow and into the thick of the woods, he turned to Ivy.

“Now that they’re gone…” Swinging her down in a flurry of skirts, he ignored her gasp of frustration, enjoying how she squirmed with the energy of an angry kitten. He did not release her even when her toes finally touched firm earth. Keeping her molded against him, one arm encircling her waist, his thighs pressed hard to hers.

While she was off-balance and struggling, he tipped her chin with the palm of his hand to claim her mouth with a voracious hunger. Ivy’s attempts to push him away continued unabated, and Sebastian allowed her to twist and writhe. When she finally stilled in defeat, he bit her lower lip, swollen pink from his kisses.

“Arms around my neck, Countess.”

Ivy scowled but did as directed.

Immediately the kiss melted to something soft and fluttering, rewarding her acquiescence to his stern command. Under the urging of his fingers, her riding jacket opened, the proper ascot coming unwrapped with alarming ease. The tiny pearl buttons of her lawn shirt slipped one by one from their moorings as though commanded by unseen forces. As the cool morning breeze drifted over them, he backed her into the concealing shadows of the grove until she was caught between the sturdiness of an elm tree and the warm hardness of his body. A low growl rumbled through him.

Time for the countess to surrender another piece of herself.

Sebastian’s hands skimmed past rows of petite ruffles lining her chemise, playing, testing, tugging at the silk ribbons holding it all together. The edge of the garment eased down, slowly, before Ivy even realized what was happening to stop him. His lips closed with unerring purpose over a rose petal nipple. God, never had he had tasted anything so sweet, so fine, as her soft flesh.

Ivy choked in surprise as his tongue swirled and licked her. Her gloved hands moved to his head, sliding through his hair. She may have thought about yanking him away. Her hands clenched in the soft waves with a sudden ferocity just as Sebastian, with a wickedness long ago perfected, raked his teeth over the hardening bud of her flesh.

It wasn’t fair. He knew that. She would forget to struggle, to protest. To breathe. As expected, Ivy drew him close. He held her nipple, caught fast between his teeth, and flicked his tongue back and forth over the contracted tip with a merciless intensity. With a moaning shudder, she pulled him even closer still.

It was heaven. Or, maybe it was hell. There was no guarantee such pleasure could continue forever. Ivy Kinley tasted of oranges and the freshness of spring. Damn, he couldn’t get enough and he feasted until her head tilted against the rough bark of the elm and she began arching into his mouth. Trailing his tongue over the valley between her breasts, Sebastian began anew with the other peak, savoring every nuance of her. When he pulled back, her eyes snapped shut with the sharpness of abandonment, and a sob of protest rang out in the little glade.

“Ivy.” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse. She was boneless in his arms, as if she was melting into him. If he must sell his soul to the Devil, he would do it, just to have her. “Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She focused on him, her eyes heavy, now more green than blue, the thick eyelashes sweeping across the upper curves of her cheeks. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each golden one. “Sweet, sweet Ivy,” he breathed, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “Christ, you are destroying me.”

Pulling off her riding gloves, Sebastian flung them to the side along with his own. He shrugged out of his coat and removed hers as well, tossing the garments carelessly to the ground. Taking her hands, he placed them on his midriff, silently telling her what he wanted her to do.

Ivy faltered, then slowly pulled his shirt free of the confines of his breeches, unfastening buttons until the hot flesh of his stomach was exposed. Drifting with purpose, her fingers smoothed the fabric aside. When she finally touched bare flesh, Sebastian’s groan vibrated through them both.

The dips and elevations of the muscles lining his abdomen seemed to fascinate her. She explored his ribs, the slabs of muscling constructing his back and bunching along the line of his broad shoulders. Her hands skimmed over his flat, dark nipples, a wordless murmur escaping her when they contracted to hardened points and stabbed at her palms. When she traced the swirl of dark hair below his navel with a fingertip, Sebastian’s teeth clenched so hard he thought they might crack. She was a witch. Driving him to the brink of utter madness.

He captured her wrist when she fumbled with the top button of the breeches. Filled with confusion and desire, her eyes lifted to his.

“Don’t,” Sebastian growled. “I won’t be able to stop if you continue…”

A light flared in Ivy’s eyes, a flash of understanding. “But you are so beautiful.” Her whisper was bemused wonder, her free hand gliding along the washboard of his stomach. “I want to touch you...”

A strangled laugh choked Sebastian. Making love in this unguarded, open environment was truly insanity. He needed privacy, the seclusion of a locked room to strip her bare and fill himself with her scent. Fill his mouth with the taste of her. Over and over until he was saturated in her.

With a reluctant sigh, he drew the chemise back into place. With her breasts covered, his thoughts became more rational. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” Ivy did not question why he covered her nudity. “I’ve never known anyone like you. I want to know why I tremble when your fingers are on my skin, why I cannot stop thinking of you, day or night. I cannot stop thinking of the last time we were together. I want so desperately to be angry with you, but I have missed you too much. Everything about this feels both dangerous and incredible. Sebastian, help me. Help me understand.” Standing on tiptoe, her mouth pressed to his neck, where the pulse beat so strong in the hollow of his throat. Almost hesitantly, she bit him softly, and then kissed where her teeth marked him.

It undid him, that sweetly wicked bit of a kiss. It ruined him, those heated words of a temptress and the teeth of a tigress. Groaning in surrender, he hauled her against him. Why waste words on the unexplainable? He would show her instead. Even if it was dangerous to do so.

He kissed her repeatedly until she was panting and frantic with need, clutching him, her body trembling. When he lowered her to the ground, cushioned by discarded riding coats and soft green grass, she went willingly. Her chemise was jerked down a second time, her breasts exposed to the cool air only to be consumed in the fiery heat of his mouth. Shoving the skirts of her riding habit high, his hands slid with unrelenting purpose between her thighs. For a sliver of a heartbeat, as on the night of the opera, she clenched against his touch.

Sebastian waited, as he did before, his breath still, his hands still, his heart still. He thought he might explode, waiting, wanting, hating himself. Hating her for his vulnerability to this dangerous obsession.

Ivy relaxed, softening, melting, giving herself over to him. Her stomach quivered as his fingertips coasted through the soft curls at the juncture of her long legs. When his touch dipped to trace the center of her being, she exhaled a sigh of sweet welcome, shaking Sebastian to his core. He could not move, overcome with gratitude. This beautiful, enchanting creature belonged to him, if only for this moment.

Time stood unmoving, only dust motes dancing restlessly in and out of the broken sunshine. The muted trickle of water flowing in the shallow stream and their broken breathing filled the innumerable seconds, the chirping from a robin’s hidden among the elm’s branches creating a cadence backdrop.

“Do you want this, Ivy?” His hand collected her need, giving it back in slow, sweet glides that left her soft and damp. “If this continues, we will never go back to what we were before. Do you understand? Do you understand what I want from you?” If she told him to stop, he was unsure what his reaction might be.

Ivy arched into his hand in response. “Yes, Sebastian. Yes. Show me, tell me how to please you.”

Sebastian’s eyes flamed hot. Shifting his body, he braced himself up on one elbow to unfasten his breeches. He grasped her wrist, dragging her hand to the space between his thighs and although she appeared mystified, he did not let go until her fingers closed upon his solid length. The thrill of it threatened to unman him as he filled her palm, his flesh straining.

“Here, sweet, touch me here, like this.” Words filled his throat, choking him. The pleasure was excruciating. Soft and hesitant, her touch was an exquisite fire, her fingers quickly learning the shape and size of him.

This sweet innocence was a gift from an impressive arsenal. The façade was appealing, a welcome change from any other woman in his orbit. It made the game of pursuit and capture infinitely more stimulating. Ivy enjoyed it too. What else explained the flashing grin she threw him sometimes, the one that said, “Oh! Isn’t this fun?” whenever he won a kiss from her? What a treasure she was. Tailoring responses to a man’s enjoyment. Having never seduced a virgin before, he liked the illusion too much to destroy it. For now, he would play her games. Even if it were all a facade, unreal, it was still incredibly arousing.

When her touch became bolder, Sebastian’s hand drifted to the core of her body to resume his measured assault with clever fingers.

Ivy knew just how to squeeze him, when to stroke faster, and softer, all of it interspersed with a butterfly touch as she gently explored his straining erection. She possessed the delicate artistry of a skilled courtesan, but Sebastian feared he lost the conquest of the moment. She tied him into knots with her magical fingertips. He could not allow this. He must shatter her first. Her heart won by the conquering of the flesh under his hand.

The tempo of his fingers increased, swirling over and into her soft wetness as she mirrored the actions upon his body. He had no idea how close she was to climaxing until a muffled cry escaped her. The knowledge she flew apart on the tips of his fingers flung him over the edge as well. Groaning with satisfaction, he fused their mouths in a blistering kiss as the universe splintered apart in a kaleidoscope of sensation. Pleasure wound tight about them, stitching two imperfect halves together to form one unbroken piece.

An eternity passed before they drifted back to the cove of elm trees where a carpet of deep, fragrant grass cushioned their bodies and a lazy, winding stream sang so sweet.