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‘The flowers need seeing to. I was cutting the dead blooms away.’
‘Surely you have a gardener.’
‘I like doing it myself. It soothes my nerves to put the border to rights. Then I will attend to village business.’ Henri paused, shifting the basket on to her hip, acutely aware of him—where he stood, where his hands were and the exact position of his mouth. Her entire being trembled. What seemed so straightforward in her lonely room was far more difficult with him standing near her, close enough to touch, to caress, to kiss. The longing to be touched swamped her senses. ‘The other night…’
The dimple deepened in the corner of his mouth. ‘Should I apologise?’
‘Yes…no…It should never have happened. I was wrong to allow it to happen.’
‘But it did.’ His rich voice flowed over her, warming her and making her want to. Henri concentrated on breathing steadily. ‘It is fruitless to wish to undo the past, so I will make no attempt to.’
She held up her hand, preventing him from continuing. ‘I’ve no plans to remarry, Robert. I value my independence.’
He lifted an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Generally people wait until they are asked before refusing an offer.’
Henri’s cheeks grew hot and a pang of regret went through her. Robert was not behaving how she expected. Had she misread the situation? Surely any man with a sense of honour would make an offer? It was how things were done? Weren’t they?
‘I wanted to make certain you understood, before. before you made an offer out of duty. I’ve no wish to fall out of civility with you, but remarriage is not in my future. Ever.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Duty?’ Robert stared at Henri in disbelief. Her level gaze met his. She was serious. They both knew all it had been was a kiss, a kiss that no one saw or commented on. True, it had nearly gone much further, but he’d never forced a woman and wasn’t about to start with Henri. ‘I have kissed other women without them demanding marriage.’
‘I wanted to make sure.’ Her deep blue eyes were guileless. She made a little gesture with her hand and nearly sent the greenery tumbling out of the trug. She bent to retrieve them and her bonnet slipped forwards, shielding her face from view. ‘It is best that everyone understands and no one feels obligations or expectations.’
‘I know where the boundaries lie.’ Robert stared at the crown of her bonnet. What he felt for Henri was far removed from duty. Passion. Desire. A longing to be with her. But not duty. And passion alone was a good enough reason to be with her.
In many ways, Henrietta Thorndike was more naïve than Sophie. At least Sophie did not believe that a simple kiss would lead automatically to a declaration of intent. However, she would come to see his perspective—what was between them needed to be explored and savoured. Enjoyed while it lasted.
‘We kissed the other night. It was wrong. We both know that. My reputation in this village would be destroyed if anyone discovered. They would never believe that we stopped at one kiss.’ She stood up and brushed the dirt from her skirt. ‘Village gossip can be ruthless, and I am determined to make very clear where boundaries lie.’
‘Are you ruined? Has anyone commented?’ Robert asked. If someone had seen them, then he would force the issue. Henri’s reputation was safe with him. But for now, it was about enjoying each other’s company, rather than thinking about society’s dictates. ‘Will they? You are a widow of twenty-six, not some débutante of seventeen.’
‘No.’ Her brow puckered and her white teeth caught her full bottom lip. ‘No one knows. I am certain of it.’
‘Then you’re troubling trouble—a very bad thing to do.’
‘The kiss,’ she said before colouring a dusky rose. ‘I mean you’re right. As long as we agree on a stratagem, we are safe. Our lives can continue on as they have been.’
Robert watched her mouth. She wet it, running her tongue over it, turning her lips the colour of the unfurled rose she held in her hand. The air between them hummed with energy. ‘What boundaries do you propose? Shall we open negotiations?’
Her lips formed a startled O. ‘I.I propose friendship.’
‘Friendship. Intimate friendship?’ he said softly, watching her much as a cat watches a mouse, waiting for her to move towards him. She wanted to, he could sense that. The very air crackled between them. But it had to be her choice or he’d lose her.
‘We’re both adults.’ Her voice was husky as she took a half-step towards him. ‘We can control our passions.’
