Beth set the book aside and crossed to the window, ignoring Dora’s teasing tone. “I need to be prepared, Dora. I have another challenge today, and frankly, I—”
“Miss Beth, it’s a cellar, not a university. You just swallow the wine and pretend you like it.”
“This isn’t some casual tavern exercise!”
How could she pass his challenges if she lacked the knowledge? Not that it had stopped her with the kissing test. The flutter in her stomach returned as she remembered Boyd’s heat beneath her.
Dora rummaged through Beth’s belongings. “Where’s your kerchief? Don’t tell me it’s another piece of accessory gone missing. Your mother will blame me.”
Boyd’s pilfering fingers came to her mind, stealing the handkerchief from right under her chin. The same fingers that caressed her cheeks and then... Visions of him nibbling her lips passed behind her eyelids, and needing some air, she pushed the window open.
The Douro River shimmered in the distance, early morning light reflecting off its surface.
“Don’t you think this place is beautiful?”
The land’s magnetism was very much like Boyd’s rough charm. How could he be so infuriating, yet make her heart skip?
“I thought it would be too rustic for your tastes, lady Beth.”
“Rustic? Certainly not. The better word would be rugged. Untamed, perhaps.” She fingered the edge of the window frame, recalling the feel of his bristly beard beneath her fingertips. “Wild, unpolished—but not without its beauty.” Like him.
A rustling noise interrupted her thoughts.
“What in heavens is this?”
Her gaze dropped to the garden below. Mr. Sandeman sprawled among the begonias, low-pitched snores ruffling their delicate petals. Beth’s heart skipped a beat. Had he slept out there all night? The man was mad—or had skin as thick as his skull. Yet... he looked peaceful. More so than she had ever seen him.
His ambition, his restless hunger, seemed banked. He looked younger somehow, almost endearing.
Beth leaned over the sill, studying him. Surely, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to reach out and smooth that unruly hair from his brow. Her fingers twitched. She leaned forward, her breath catching—then stopped herself, heat prickling her cheeks.What are you thinking, Beth? Studying him like some knight beneath your tower!Hastily, she drew back, pressing her hand to her racing heart.
Dora leaned in. “Seems your suitor misplaced his bedchamber, Miss Beth.”
“I can see that, but why?”
“Perhaps the ground just seemed more inviting than his bed.”
How could he endure the cold? Her heart ached for him, all alone. There was something tender about how his arm curled under his cheek. Against her better judgment, she longed to jump from the window and cradle his head above her lap. “Should I wake him?”
“That, or offer him a blanket. Though I doubt it is necessary—he seems quite comfortable.”
“Surely, he’ll be embarrassed when he realizes where he is.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that, Miss Beth. He doesn’t strike me as the contrite type.”
Beth frowned. “Nonsense. Any proper gentleman would be mortified.” She stole another glance at Boyd’s parted lips,recalling how they had pressed against hers the day before. Tempting lips. She had known them intimately yesterday. She wanted to—know them again.
“Ah yes. I’m sure he’ll be positively ashamed.”
“He will. He has to be.”
Beth hesitated, then leaned out of the window. “Mr. Sandeman?”
The absurd man stretched his long arms over his head and yawned. Then he pulled himself up and shook the dirt from his trousers as if he had just lifted himself from the couch of a grand hostess.
“Mr. Sandeman! What on earth are you doing down there?”
He propped his elbows on the windowsill and winked. “You agreed to call me Boyd, Beth. Or have you forgotten our night interlude?”
