Fanny Jones is a virginal housemaid, about to be presented as a birthday gift for his lordship's son and heir— a young man who must prove he knows what to do with a woman. The night, however, won't go quite to plan.
By dawn, Fanny certainly won't be a virgin any longer, but it's not the birthday boy who is responsible. Because when Dickon, the handsome groom of the estate, has to be called in to help out, he's more than willing to teach them both how it's done.
"You ought to watch yourself, missy."
Fanny was bringing a basket in from the herb garden the next morning when she heard Dickon's deep growl somewhere behind her. As the little hairs on the back of her neck prickled with a mixture of delight and trepidation, she stopped and turned, squinting against the bright sun. There she found him, leaning with his elbows on the fence post. How handsome he was, she thought with an inner sigh. Ridiculous, arrogant man, I despise you.
His was not the primped and pampered look of an idle gentleman, of course. He was rough-edged, unkempt and brawny, weathered by the long hours he worked outdoors in all seasons.
Oh, did he think he was a king or something, the way he walked about like he owned the place? And hung over fences to tease girls who were trying to work.
"Think you can get away with impertinence toward me and Mr. Shawcross, don't you? Just because his lordship singled you out for special treatment."
She hugged her basket of fragrant, fresh-picked herbs and replied, "I wouldn't be afraid of you whatever his lordship decreed." She put her head on one side. "I don't know why you think I should be." Men, so she'd found, seemed to think that because she was small and had not much heft to her she ought to quiver in fear before a wide set of shoulders. They reckoned without women's brains, which were sharper and more accustomed to use.
"The things I could do to you, maidy." He licked his lips. "If not for his lordship's decree."
She pondered this for a moment and felt the warm flush of anticipation between her thighs. "Such as?"
He grinned slowly. "I'd kiss that little quinny of yours until it was soaking wet. I'd get my tongue up inside you and flick the tip right over your saucy button. Even if you screamed and hollered I wouldn't stop."
"My saucy button?"
"Aye. The little hidden pearl inside your oyster. Every girl has one, but not every man knows where to find it." He winked. "I know. Why do you think Lady Western calls upon me to service her when she's in heat for it? His lordship fumbles around like a man in a blindfold, she says. But I know where to go, how to tease it, how to give her a climax like no other."
"Well, aren't you clever," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
"Yes," he replied proudly. "And I know you want some o' my talent. You're ripe fruit, little Fanny. Ripe and sweet and fair burstin' with juice, just waiting to be plucked."
Fanny shrugged and let her gaze wander away across the garden.
"Once I'd set you a-quiver, screaming my name, I'd plow your sweet, tight little valley with my big cock, just as soon as it could take all of me."
She snorted. "Your cock is not so big. Perhaps you forgot I've seen it."
"It'll feel bloody big when I thrust it into your narrow, tender furrow, missy. I will rut you like a randy stallion on a young mare and drive my seed deep inside."
Fanny laughed. "Well, I daresay there are things I could do to you, Dickon." She hoped he wouldn't ask for details, because she wasn't entirely certain yet, but her imagination could be quite wild at times.
His sun-kissed brows rose high and his fingers flexed, tendons twitching in his forearms where they rested on the fence. "Now, I'll have to ponder that for a while, shan't I?"
"Don't ponder too hard you might sprain something."
"Very funny. Come here."
"Did you want something from the kitchen, Dickon?" she asked pertly. "Or have you no job to do this morning in the stables?" Fingers tapping her basket, she added coyly, "Surely you didn't come looking to tease me, plain little Fanny."
"Plain?" He scowled. "Who said you're plain?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "I know what I am."
But suddenly the kitchen door opened and made her jump guiltily. Ruby looked out. "Fanny, make haste, Mr. Shawcross wants you."
There was no time to converse with Dickon any further or to find out what he thought of her. Or what other delectable, wicked thing he would do to her, given half a chance.