Callum scoffed. “What was he doing with another woman when he was already engaged?”
“We’d been engaged for nearly two years, and neither of us was in a rush to marry. Ours was a classic example of a society match. He was the third son of a marquess, but an impoverished one. My father could provide a generous dowry and carried power in Parliament. But he didn’t love me.”
The unspoken question hung between them and wrapped its toxic tendrils around his chest. Had she loved him? Did she still?
Why did he have such a powerful need to learn the answer?
“The worst part was my reaction,” she said, squinting over the horizon to where the crystal blue sky met the wave of green field. “I sobbed, begged him to marry me, to spare me the humiliation. I suppose it would have been worse to find out he’d fathered a child with another woman.”
A roar of fury tore through him. “He was—”
“He loved her,” she interrupted, as if love excused all sins. “They’re quite content now, so I’ve heard. I’ve avoided the happy couple thus far.”
How could anyone walk away from her? He felt their own impending rupture like the coming of a storm. “He’s still a shite.”
She chuckled and paused, turned to face him. “I appreciate your support.” Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip, then released it. “Will you ever marry?”
“No.” The words burst so quickly from his lips she recoiled with the force of it. “I’d make a terrible husband.”
“Why is that?”
Because I’ve ruined every family I’ve been a part of.“My business keeps me away from home most of the year. It wouldnae be fair to my wife.”
“Would you be unfaithful?”
He bristled, attempted to catch her eye, but she was looking elsewhere. “No. When I make a promise, I keep it.”
Her eyes drifted shut for the briefest moment, the chestnut lashes brushing her cheeks before she lifted her chin and focused on the path ahead of them. “We should ride back. The guests will be in the breakfast room by now and see us returning.”
She allowed him to assist her into the saddle, and he did his best to not let his hands linger on her hips. Though he did not miss the catch in her breath as he lifted her. They rode to the manor in silence, dismounting and passing their horses over to the grooms for care. As they approached the house and the large picture window jutting out from the breakfast room, she stopped him with a hand to his forearm, the touch sizzling along his skin through layers of clothing. “Are you ready?”
Christ, no.He’d only just started to glimpse the man he could be without the burdens of his past, the man whowantedto be capable of loving a woman like Violet. She made him dream of impossible things again, cast light into his dark corners. He hoped against logic that the breakfast room was deserted. But it was half-past elevennow, and within a few paces they would be in sight of at least a dozen guests. “Not quite,” he admitted.
She scrunched her nose. “You’re right. We don’t look the part.” She closed the distance between them and pulled open his jacket, her delicate hands efficient and light as she tugged at his clothing, misbuttoned his waistcoat, loosened his tie. Then those fingers were in his hair; he suppressed a groan as she leaned against him, stretching onto her toes while she tousled his locks. Her breath ghosted along his chin and he felt weak.
Leaning back on her heels, she gave him an appraising once-over before tugging some strands loose from her hair and letting her bonnet fall back. “There. We look properly ravished.”
“Were I ravishing you, ye’d have more than a few hairs out of place.”
Her plump lips parted as she sucked in a breath. Christ, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The rise of color in her cheeks was so appealing, so damnedpretty, that he didn’t regret it. Perhaps he could get her to blush again, see how far down her chest it spread—
“Callum!” She gestured to the wide picture window, the one that would put them in sight of everyone in the breakfast room.
“Fine,” he growled, stepping closer to crowd her against the trunk of a sturdy oak that shaded them. Her breath puffed out of her lungs as he planted his forearms on either side of her head. “Shall we sell the scene?”
“H-how?” That pretty blush had spread until her ears colored pink at the tips. A bolt of masculine pride shot through him at the sight.
“Ye’ll have to imagine ye’ve just come back from being thoroughly ruined.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment, and he watched as her pupils swallowed the whisky irises. “What would you do to me?”
Callum paused. “What do ye mean?”
Her swallow was audible, and he ached to graze his lips over the skin of her neck, above the ruffle of her shirtwaist collar. “When you said—when you said if you ravished me… If we were coming back from a tryst in the woods, what would you have done to me?”
His pulse thrummed in his ears as he leaned closer. “Why are ye asking?”
“I—I want to make sure it’s realistic, like you said.” Her words were faint, as though she was barely holding on to her self-control, and the slightest touch might send her over the edge.
