Of that he was sure.
Guy might not be the expert womanizer that Bill was, but he had been with enough women to know when one was willing! Miss Travers had enjoyed being in his arms. He knew that because she practically melted against his body the second he’d caught her, just as his body had instinctively fused against hers—as if it was meant to be there. Then, rather than scramble out of his arms and acting all missish about their compromising clinch, she’d looped hers around his neck while she had waited for him to make the next move. Lips parted. Breath expectant. Her lush body languid and compliant, inviting him to continue without any hint of disapproval at their intimate position. She had even stared at his mouth while she waited. All clear signposts that she wasn’t averse to being kissed.
He certainly couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman more—and that was what troubled him the most. Nobody had ever heated his blood like she did. Not even Florinda, who had gone out of her way to heat it in all manner of highly improper ways. That conniving woman’s overt seductions hadn’t seduced him half as much as the desire in Miss Travers’s lovely eyes.
But as the comparison with Florinda popped into his mind a split second before he gave in to the urge to kiss Miss Travers, it panickedhim enough not to. The last time he had jumped headfirst into the murky waters of love—again after a ridiculously short acquaintance thanks to far too much temptation—he’d been made a fool of. Only a complete idiot would rush into it again with a woman he barely knew, simply because he wanted her in every way possible. Which he supposed was part of the reason he was here. He needed to know precisely who Miss Travers was before he gave too much of his wary heart away again. Hoping against hope that lightning wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly strike so destructively twice. Especially as Miss Travers—Lottie—wasn’t anything like the conniving and social-climbing woman whom he had made the fatal mistake of proposing to.
“There is no need for you to loom today, sir. I come here as a fellow farmer and not a prospective suitor.”
Yet,said the impetuous and increasingly loud voice in his head. But he might be. He could admit that to himself. Feeling his way slowly—with sensible caution—despite the overwhelming longing he was suffering from that urged him to rush in and make his aunt’s latest but unconventional companion his. A turn up for the books likely so scandalous that it would make it into the dreaded gossip columns because viscounts didn’t tend to court lady’s companions. At least not as a general rule. But as he had eschewed all the stupid rules of the ton when he had exiled himself from them, if she was the elusive one that his lonely heart had been looking for, he wouldn’t give two figs what those jumped-up, judgmental, preening fools thought.
“Just as well as I’m not in the mood for looming today.” Mr. Travers’s shoulders relaxed as he sighed in relief. “You do not strike me as mad and you’d have to be to want to shackle yourself to my Beanstalk. I love my daughter more than life itself, but she’s a handful.”
The mention of a handful reminded Guy of how perfectly she had fit in his arms last night and how desperately he had wanted to fill his hands with every soft, womanly part of her. Thighs, bottom. Those saucy, pointed, raspberry-tipped breasts that begged to be teased and licked and…
Good grief!What the bloody hell was the matter with him? The menace hadn’t just seduced him, she’d thoroughly bewitched him because nothing would shift her from his mind. He certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about all the things he wanted to do to the woman in front of her father!
“Your… um… daughter mentioned that you have persistent blight and I happened across an article in one of my farming journals the other day that I thought you might find of interest.”
Glad of an excuse to escape Mr. Travers’s gaze, Guy retrieved the journal from his saddlebag, where he had put it after she had failed to turn up for her usual dawn ride. After she’d avoided him all through dinner and afterward last night.
His fault. He had embarrassed them both last night by withdrawing from the kiss and he figured he owed her some sort of explanation for his behavior. He hadn’t fathomed the exact words he needed to say yet but recognized that she deserved to know that his failure to kiss her wasn’t because he didn’t want her.
In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.
There was something about Miss Travers that called to his soul, as well as his body, in a way that had never happened before. Something that transcended all his lust. It was hard to categorize what it was he felt for her, especially as every sensible part of him warned him to run away and to deny what was happening. All he knew was that there, alongside his intense physical attraction to her, was a unique connection between them, as if they were kindred spirits in some way. Someone he could be himself with. Someone he was tempted to entrust his heart to.
He just needed to prove that.
Perhaps the only way to do that was to court her?
A sudden epiphany which absolutely terrified him.
With a tense swallow, he passed the journal to Mr. Travers. “I marked the page and will leave you to read it at your leisure, but the gist is that farmers who plant infected fields with peas for a season find they recover better than those who leave the field fallow.” Was he reallyalready contemplating forever? “Your daughter said you’d already left it fallow last year to no avail.” Lottie was definitely the forever sort. The sort a man could build a life with. A future with. A family with.Stop running before you can walk, man! Look before you leap!
“Aye, we did. Blasted blight.” Guy forced himself to focus on her father and not the churning ball of fear spinning out of control in his gut. “Left it to rest for fourteen months this second time and the damned disease only grew stronger in the ground.” Mr. Travers flipped to the article, clearly interested in a potential solution. “I’ve never grown peas, have you?”
“I was going to, a few years back,” answered Guy truthfully, “but never got around to it.” Because peas needed staking. Protecting from birds. Handpicking. Peas were a handful, just like this man’s effervescent and bewitching daughter. A commitment he hadn’t quite been ready for.
Mr. Travers pulled a face, almost as if he could read Guy’s thoughts “I’ve heard that peas are a lot of work for a short season. But I’m not afraid of hard work and neither are my boys, so if they get rid of the blasted blight…” His eyes scanned the charts, taking in the figures and the yields with what seemed to be a promisingly open mind. “Then maybe it’s worth the faff to fix things. The things that take the most effort are always the most rewarding in the end.”
Like a proper all-cards-on-the-table courtship with his aunt’s latest companion.
He was going to have to have a very frank discussion with her, wasn’t he? The baring-the-soul sort. The I-think-you-and-I-might-have-something sort.
Guy was queasy just thinking about it.
“Lord knows nothing else has worked on my bloody blight so far and I’m worried it might spread to the rest of my land.” Mr. Travers’s frustrations dragged Guy out of his panicked reverie and back to their conversation.
Thank goodness, because his epiphany was giving him severe palpitations. As was his next step. Going home and asking this man’s daughter, a woman he had known for only eighteen days and been cordial with for just a week, if she was up for being wooed.
He sucked in a calming breath that did little to make him calm. Because a week was fast by anyone’s standards to fall a little bit in love. Perhaps even more than a little bit. “If you turn to the next page, sir, there is another chart that suggests that blight-free fields that are regularly rotated with peas also yield more grain. They also sell well to all the fancy tables in the capital, and for an excellent price too while they are in season. I hear they even stock the things at Fortnum and Mason.”
“The king’s own grocer? Really?” Mr. Travers liked the sound of that, which pleased Guy as he already liked Mr. Travers and wanted him to like him back. “I bet the seed is expensive though.” He said that with the determined nonchalance of someone who probably couldn’t afford to invest in any after the blow the blight had dealt him this year. He closed the journal, which confirmed it, and pasted on a brave smile so reminiscent of his daughter’s last night after Guy had rebuffed her, it plucked at his heartstrings. “I shall give this a proper read later and give it some serious thought. Thank you for taking the trouble to personally deliver this to me, my lord. It was good of you to do so.”
“It was no trouble at all, Mr. Travers. I had business in Maidstone today anyway, so was passing.” If “passing” was the correct term for going four miles out of his way. “Besides, we farmers should always stick together. Especially with something that affects us all.” Like a golden-haired firebrand that they both adored. Albeit in decidedly different ways.
“Is everything all right, Pa?” Two men approached. One Guy instantly recognized as the Adonis he had seen her with that day at the market. Daniel, she’d said his name was. Dan? The other was a few years older but no less handsome than his younger brother. Both were tall. Both had the same dark blond hair as their sister. Both were displaying similar wary expressions.
