"Shall we race, then?"

Sawyer whipped his head around to look at Blair, trotting on her mare not five paces behind him.

"Absolutely not, Blair."

"Aw, are you afraid that I shall win?"

Sawyer couldn't help but smile. "Absolutely, yes." But then he cleared his throat and added, "However, mostly, I do not wish for you to break your neck."

Blair rolled her eyes. "I am not going to break my neck, Sawyer."

Not even trying to withhold a snort, Sawyer replied, "You're wearing a bloody dress and riding sidesaddle. We are not going to race." He slowed his horse, so he was in pace with her. "Now if you were wearing pants..."

When Blair had arrived in the stables wearing a goddamn riding habit, Sawyer had resisted the urge to demand that she turn around and attire herself properly. After all, he'd grown accustomed to the pants, and seeing his lady without them was quite the disappointment.

"If I had worn trousers, then I wouldn't have gotten to enjoy your expression when I arrived without them. It was entirely worth it."

Sawyer brought his horse to an abrupt halt, having spotted the perfect clearing in the grasses for their picnic. He jumped down, led his horse to be tied in some nearby trees, and then returned to assist Blair.

"Well, I plan on making it worth it in other ways," he murmured as she allowed him to lift her down from her saddle.

Blair's body slid down Sawyer's chest until her feet hit the ground lightly. Glancing up at him with those big, brown eyes, she asked breathlessly, "In other ways?"

Smirking, Sawyer bent his head, brushing his lips over hers before repeating, "In other ways."

If possible, her eyes grew even wider. And then she threw her arms around his neck and flashed Sawyer a look that spelled temptation and invitation. As if it wasn't already abundantly clear, she said, "Show me."

Leave it to Blair Ash to be as forward as that.

Sawyer laughed. "Gladly." He pulled a blanket from the saddlebag on the back of Blair's mare and spread it on the ground. Then he walked her horse over to join his. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed Blair's watchful eyes on him. Raising a brow, Sawyer asked, "Would you like for me to show you now or after—"

"Now," Blair cut in, taking a step toward him.

"Lord, you truly are the perfect woman." Sawyer wasted no time striding back to Blair and scooping the lady into his arms so he could deposit her on the checkered blanket.

She really was. It wasn't that she was perfect, per se. Everyone had their faults, their flaws. But Blair Ash was, undoubtedly, the perfect woman for Sawyer. She was entirely entertaining, bold, brave. And hell, she was beautiful. It wasn't flattery. It was pure fact; she satisfied Sawyer in every possible way.

And he thanked the lord—not that he genuinely believed the lord had anything to do with it as they were not on the best of terms—that for some reason, Blair seemed equally taken with him. Well, she'd yet to push Sawyer away on his requests for daily outings. And it had been nearly a month since that day at the archery range. Perhaps it had been more than a month. Honestly, the time had blurred.

Sawyer had been dreading this summer. And now, he wished that it would never end. Endless days, endless adventures, endless kisses, endless moments with Blair Ash.

That was what he wanted.

"What are you waiting for?" Blair asked, tilting her head to the side as she peered up at him with curious eyes. Always curious, this one. Her thick, dark hair was already falling out of its pins, spreading across the blanket, and all Sawyer wanted to do was pull the rest of the pins out. He wanted to take everything from Blair until it was just...her.

All in due time. All in due time.

"I am admiring you, my lady," Sawyer said, and he realized his voice was gravel and husk.

Good. She should know what she did to him.

Blair propped herself up on her elbows, squinting. "Well, you are standing directly in the line of the sun, so it is rather hard to look up at you and reciprocate the action."

Laughing, Sawyer dropped onto his knees and then fell further, lying beside Blair.

He was extraordinarily pleased that they were far from Rosecrest, far from any paths that he knew the others might take while out and about on this warm morning. Because Sawyer fully intended to show Blair the one reason why he wasn't all that upset that she'd been wearing a dress today. Just like she had ordered him to.

She twisted on her side, facing Sawyer and giving him the chance to cup her face. Her eyes sparkled, mischievous and eager. Her spirit danced in those brown depths, and he desired all of it. He wished to take it, consume it, keep it forever. 

"I'm going to kiss you now," he murmured, running his thumb over those lips that called to him. Blair flicked her tongue over his fingertip, making him moan lightly. He wanted that tongue of hers everywhere. Reining himself in, but barely, Sawyer continued what he had set out to say. "And then I'm going to—"

"I believe I told you to show me. Not tell me, Sawyer."

Sawyer scowled, but he couldn't honestly be annoyed.

Because he very, very much wanted to show her.

So, without further ado, Sawyer kissed Blair, brushing his lips over hers softly at first. But then he slanted them sideways, needing to taste her fully. Blair kissed him back, darting her tongue out again, this time to lick at the seam of his mouth. He gave her what she wanted, parting his lips so they could deepen their kiss like they had done so many times before.

Then, without letting the kiss die, Sawyer trailed his hand from her face to the rest of her. He grazed his fingertips over her bodice, trying to ignore the heady rise and fall of her bosom. He brushed his fingers over her waist, over her hips, and by then, Sawyer was done taking his damn time getting to the hem of her dress.

Bloody hell, there was far too much fabric to deal with.

Perhaps pants might have been better.

No, not a chance. Not in this situation.

Because as Sawyer slipped his fingers beneath the dress, he was able to skim his hand up her shapely legs so that he could ghost his palm over Blair's center. And she must have felt his touch even through her cotton drawers because she gasped against his mouth, wiggling her body a bit beneath his. And it told Sawyer everything he needed to know.

He dipped his fingers into her drawers, appreciating the effortless access to a part of her that he had wanted to feel for so goddamn long. Blair instinctively parted her legs, and the result of that was Sawyer's fingers finding her slick heat, caressing her lightly.

He had known that she would be responsive to him. She was always responsive to him.

But Sawyer hadn't expected that she would bite his lip.

"Jesus, Blair," he growled into her mouth. Not that Sawyer was complaining; that little nip sent his blood pumping. And all of that blood went to one place—a place that was now very much straining against his breeches.

Blair was unapologetic, instead releasing him and throwing her head back, giving Sawyer the curve of her neck as she moaned her delight at the way he was touching her.

"See?" he murmured, kissing a path down her exposed neck. "Worth it, don't you think?"

But Blair didn't seem to be able to reply, because at that moment, Sawyer decided he would tease her entrance, circling it with the tip of his finger, nudging in and out.

"Sawyer, what—what are you—" she whimpered, her hands coming up to clutch at his shirt sleeves. Her back arched off the blanket, and the way she was moving against Sawyer's body was going to be the death of him. It was infinitely worse than that time that they'd shared the horse. Infinitely. Because not only was Sawyer hard and wanting for her, but he now knew that Blair was very much the same. Except she was...wet. Hell, she was wet.

"You are so goddamn ready for me, Blair," he said, more to himself than her.

He internally cursed himself as he went about sucking on her neck. He hadn't meant for it to sound like that. As much as he wanted this woman, he couldn't—

"Then what are you waiting for?" she breathed, cutting off his thoughts.

"Blair, no," he rasped. "I shouldn't have said that. We don't—"

She tilted her head up, stopping Sawyer's words with a hard kiss. "What are you waiting for?" she asked again, her voice soft and teasing against his lips. God, save him. He was trying. He was really, really trying. Sawyer was not a good man, but he was trying to be for Lady Blair Ash.

And he would try once more—only once—before giving in.

"Blair, love." He kissed her deeply before pulling back and saying, "I can make you feel good in other ways." To emphasize the point, he flicked the tip of his finger against her sensitive peak. And then he abruptly moved atop her, lowering himself, ducking beneath her skirts so he could remove his fingers. So he could lick her instead.

"Sawyer!" she exclaimed, tossing her skirts aside so she could grab onto his hair. "You are—" she panted, and Sawyer was torn between letting her be distracted by the things he was doing to her with his tongue and wanting desperately to know the end of that sentence.

Ultimately, he let it go, because Sawyer was distracted, too. He was distracted with the taste of her in his mouth, with the quivers of her body beneath his lips, with the need to make her climax for him.

And then she did, gripping his hair almost painfully. Blair bucked her hips beneath him, and Sawyer grabbed onto them, holding her fast to his mouth so he could drink in every last bit of her pleasure.

When he eventually pulled back, her wild eyes found his own. Her expression was dazed, and he was obsessed with it.

Sawyer licked his lips. "See what I mean?" he smirked.

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "But Sawyer?"

"Hm?"

Blair mimicked him, smirking as well. "Now I want to feel good with you."

His body tightened. God, he couldn't say no to that.

Sawyer wrapped his arms around her and busied himself with undoing the buttons that ran along Blair's spine. He loosened it enough that he was able to slide her bodice down, baring her breasts. He'd held them in his hands before, but it would never cease to amaze Sawyer how soft her skin was, how perfectly rounded and weighty she was in his hands as he cupped her, how delightfully Blair moaned when he sucked a pert nipple into his mouth.

"Sawyer," she groaned, winding her fingers into his hair again. He absolutely adored when she did that. When she filled her mouth with his name. When she grabbed onto him with everything she had.

His mouth didn't stop what it was doing as his hands moved on, back down so that he could push the rest of her dress over her hips. But as soon as he'd bared her, Sawyer pulled back to take a moment to admire her—beneath the summer sun in only her chemise. And while Blair Ash could often be a devilish minx, today she looked an angel.

Blair suddenly began to push at his own clothes, and Sawyer reluctantly leaned back from her body so he could dispense of his riding coat and muslin shirt. He kicked off his boots before hovering over her, letting Blair run her hands down his bare chest.

The sun was hot, but Sawyer shivered.

Such innocence was beneath him. Blair dressed in all white, hair sprawled and disheveled across the blanket, eyes fluttering with a bashfulness that he wasn't used to seeing on her face.

And that's when Sawyer remembered that she was innocent.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" he forced himself to ask one more time.

Because he knew. Sawyer knew what it meant for them to do this. And even though he had never truly believed that he'd marry, he had absolutely no qualms about doing so with her. Not anymore. After all, Blair Ash was, undoubtedly, the perfect woman for Sawyer Pearce.

She blinked up at him. "I want this."

Something flooded his chest; he wouldn't dare explain what. Everything within him was hot, heavy, foreign as Sawyer stripped Blair of her undergarments and set about kissing her. He kissed her as he stripped his own bottoms, so that they could be together fully. He wished to offset the pain, wished to ease the moment of discomfort.

But Sawyer honestly couldn't keep kissing her after entering her, after sliding into that wet, wet heat. Because he desperately needed to see her face. She had tensed, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body tightening around him. Oh, heavens above, she was tight. Sawyer tilted his head back. And then when he saw the way Blair was gazing up at him—lips parted, rosy-cheeked and messy hair—Sawyer lost his breath.

A tilted smile appeared on her face, but it disappeared as Sawyer carefully flexed his hips into her, stroking Blair's body. She gasped instead, her eyes fluttering for a moment before they focused back on his face.

"Yes?" he choked out. He needed to know if that was a good gasp.

"Oh, yes."

Relief and desire flooded him at the sigh that had fallen from her lips.

Blair lifted her arms over her head, languidly tossing them into the grass. Her breasts perked up, her nipples grazing Sawyer's bare chest. She was giving him all of her, and to prove that Blair whispered, "I am yours, Sawyer Pearce."

The words triggered something primal within him. She was his. And he began to take her like she was his. Sawyer's fingers tangled in hers, pinning her to the summer grasses as he found his home deep within her. And the feeling...the feeling was unbelievable.

He leaned down, finding her ear. "You're mine, Blair." When he managed to catch his breath for more words, he added, "And I'm yours."

Sawyer became wholly lost after that, sinking deep into Blair's warm, soft body more times than he would ever be able to count. He got lost in the sounds she was making, the satisfying moans and whimpers.

And the only thought on Sawyer's mind when he finally gripped her hips, kissed her mouth, and released into her as she simultaneously came around him, was that he couldn't wait to do this again. That he couldn't wait to have this with her forever.

Gasping for air, Sawyer rolled onto his side, but then he moved Blair into his chest, wanting to hold her close.

"That was..." she breathed.

"Worth it?" Sawyer asked, chuckling.

"Yes." He couldn't see her face; she'd tucked it beneath his chin. But he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Well," Sawyer said, still trying to catch his breath, "we can repeat it a great many times after we wed."

Blair stiffened in his arms. And that made Sawyer stiffen as well. 

"Wed?" he heard her mumble.

"Well, yes. Of course we must wed now."

She pushed at his chest, leaning back. Her eyes flared as she looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

Sawyer frowned. "Blair, do not be dense. I have ruined you. Did you honestly think that I wouldn't honor that?"

Her expression flattened. "And so now we must wed," she said blankly, "because it is the honorable thing to do."

"Well, yes," Sawyer repeated, frowning even deeper.

How hard was this to understand?

He'd taken her virtue.

Of course they would wed.

"I think not," Blair said crisply.

Wait. What?

It was Sawyer's turn to say, "Excuse me?"

"I think perhaps not. Perhaps we will not wed."

Blair pushed herself up, out of Sawyer's reach. And then she began to reassemble her clothing hastily.

Sawyer propped himself onto his elbows, watching her. "You cannot be serious, Blair."

"Oh, yes, Sawyer. I am quite serious." She pushed away the hand that had begun to reach out for her.

"Blair..." He'd lost his words. "Let us talk about this. Come here."

"I do not think that necessary, Sawyer." Her words were clipped and tight, her eyes avoiding him.

Anger unexpectedly began to bubble up within him. "You are mine, Blair. That's what you told me."

Finally, Blair stopped. Her muddled gaze sought Sawyer's face, but it only confused him further. Because it was as pained as he felt. "I wanted to be yours, Sawyer. But I do not wish to simply be your responsibility."

And with that, she walked to her horse, mounted it, and galloped away.

That woman. That goddamn woman. He should have expected that she was going to be difficult, but he would never have suspected this. Not after their passion beneath the summer sky.

Well, there was no point in staying here now, not after she'd so painfully rejected him. Sawyer collected his things and rode after her. If he was lucky, he might still be able to catch the infuriating woman. But she was nowhere along the trails, and for a moment, Sawyer was frightened that perhaps she had gotten lost. But when he entered the stables, he breathed a sigh of relief to find her there. Her hair swayed down her back, which still displayed more than a few undone buttons.

Sawyer called her name. She ignored him. Naturally.

"Blair," he growled, catching her arm as she tried to walk past and leave.

"Let me go," she said stiffly.

Not that easily. Sawyer refused to. "You are more than a goddamn responsibility. But it does not negate the fact that our marriage has to happen."

"You are so painfully conceited, Sawyer Pearce. Nothing has to happen. Now kindly unhand me."

Sawyer did, though reluctantly. And then he watched her walk away.

He loathed this—all of this.

Blair was his. She was his to hold, his to cherish, his to wed. His to love. She had been for a month now; didn't she realize that?

Flustered beyond belief, Sawyer stormed up to the manor, cursing along the way. Not knowing what else to do, Sawyer went to his father. He would be irate—but Sawyer knew that he was expecting for both him and Simon to offer for the Ash sisters after the summer they'd ended up having with the ladies.

He found Simon and Lord Farrington hovering in the door to the parlor. They were speaking, but Sawyer didn't care. He interrupted.

"Father, I must speak with you."

In the background, Sawyer heard the voices of others—likely his uncles. He couldn't tell what they were saying. It didn't matter.

His father ushered his two sons into the hallway, walking lazily. And it irritated Sawyer beyond belief because he was feeling more than a bit impatient.

"Well, you both completely disregarded my orders this summer. I told you to stay away from the Ash sisters."

"Father, I—" Sawyer tried to cut in.

"No, it's quite alright. It seems to have worked itself out. I will meet with Lord Ash this afternoon to settle the marriage contracts. As we are all friends here, I would like to propose that we void the dowries, except if he wishes to afford the ladies with their own coin to have. Neither of you shall need—"

"Father!" Sawyer interrupted, running his hand through his hair and pulling at the ends. Would the damn man just listen?

Simon frowned. Sawyer ignored it. His father frowned, too. "Sawyer, honestly, I was in the middle of something. As I was saying—"

"Lady Blair and I are not marrying," Sawyer blurted.

Lord Farrington's mouth snapped shut. And then his frown deepened, anger etched into the lines on his face. Sawyer honestly couldn't blame him.

"The hell you aren't. I am entirely confident you have compromised her in some way—"

"Oh, I've very much ruined her."

"—and you will go offer for her right bloody now!"

Sawyer's jaw was twitching. He could feel it. "You misunderstand, father," he said through gritted teeth. "I have offered."

Sawyer was right. His father was irate.

"Then what is the issue?" he cried.

Sawyer shook his head. He loathed admitting the following. But what else could he do?

"She is refusing."

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