Page 24 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

But she was a woman of five and twenty, not some green girl quivering and fluttering in the presence of a handsome lad.

She lifted her chin. “You will have to learn me as well, sir.”

Justin’s mouth quirked in that wry, shadow of a smile with which she was fast becoming familiar. “I shall look forward to it, ma’am.”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her. Or flirting with her. Either way, there seemed nothing to say to such a statement. She decided it was safer not to respond at all. She dropped her gaze to the fireplace, attempting to regain some small measure of her lost composure.

The flames crackled ominously in the grate as a log of burned wood snapped in half and fell into the ashes. It was the only sound in the room. Justin appeared to comprehend the significance of this at the same instant she did. He stood abruptly from his chair and walked the short distance to the window. She rose and followed after him.

“It’s stopped raining,” he said.

She looked out the window at the inn yard. Everything was wet and muddy—including the team of horses an ostler was hitching to a coach—but the rainclouds had drifted past and the sun was shining brightly in the now clear, blue sky. She glanced up at Justin. “Will you have to ride back to the Abbey before the rain starts again?”

“It won’t rain again. Not for a while.” He tilted his head. “Though judging from the direction of those clouds, it looks like Abbot’s Holcombe is in for quite a downpour.”

“I hope it won’t rain on our wedding day.”

“It won’t matter if it does. We’ll take the carriage.” He turned to face her, his eyes lowering briefly to her skirts. “You’ve dropped your shawl.”

She looked down. Her shawl was still threaded through her right arm, but the left end had fallen to the floor in a heap of red and gold cashmere. She moved to retrieve it, but he anticipated her, bending swiftly to sweep the heavy fabric up in his hand

“Here you are,” he said as he straightened. “May I?

She nodded and then stood, still as a Grecian statue, while he draped the shawl around her shoulder and back over her left arm. When he finished, she murmured her thanks, but Justin didn’t let go of the fabric. He merely stared down at her, holding her questioning gaze for an achingly long moment.

“Helena…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like very much to kiss you,” he said. “If I may.”

Color crept into her face. He was standing awfully close to her. Just as close as when he’d touched her, so tenderly, yesterday on the beach. Her pulse quickened at the memory. “Very well.”

He brought his fingers to the curve of her cheek. She inhaled a shallow breath, holding herself immobile as he traced a path down the edge of her jaw to cup her chin. He tilted her face up. And then he bent his head and brushed his lips very softly and very slowly across her own.

Helena’s mouth trembled beneath his, but she did not kiss him back. Nor did she move to touch him in return. She remained still, her eyes closed and her arms at her sides, fingers twisting into the folds of her shawl.

He smelled of the rainstorm. Of horses, leather, and some faint, masculine fragrance that must be his shaving soap. It made her knees tremble and she wondered, absently, how a scent could affect one’s knees of all places. But then he kissed her again, warm and firm, and she forgot about her knees. She forgot about everything except the dizzying pressure of his gently insistent mouth.

It lasted only minutes—seconds—and then a horse whinnied shrilly from the inn yard. An ostler shouted: “Catch hold of that bay, Fred! He’s a lively one!”

Justin’s lips stilled on hers. “The devil,” he muttered hoarsely.

She opened her eyes, startled.

He raised his head. His jaw was as hard as granite and she could see a muscle working in his cheek. “I’m sorry, Helena.”

“Whatever for?”

“For being so bloody careless.” His hand at her waist, he drew her away from the window.

Thewindow.

“Oh no,” she said. “Oh, how dreadful.”

Who had been out in the yard? She tried desperately to recall. There’d been the ostler, of course. And then there were the grooms and whoever had stopped to changed horses.

What about Mr. and Mrs. Blevins? Had they happened by as well?