Page 3 of Wedding the Widow

Elizabeth risked raising her head. “It was . . . most powerful. I believe many pagan rituals are.”

“Yes, well, I am sorry I took advantage of you in the moment.” He shook his head. “Most unforgivable.”

“I forgive you, my lord.” She leaned forward, putting a hand on his arm to reassure him. “I was as much to blame.” Heat stole through her palm where she touched his arm, and she snatched it back. “One wonders if it is the ritual or the very place itself that channels these feelings.”

“You felt it as well?” His eager voice touched that ache deep inside her.

“I must confess I did.” She almost whispered the admission. Could she actually be standing here in a field, in the middle of the night, saying these indelicate things to a man? A particularly nice gentleman too. What must he think of her?

He seized her hands, startling her afresh. “Do not be ashamed, Mrs. Easton, I beg of you. I hope you have noticed these last few days of the house party—no, even before that, when first we met—that I have come to have the greatest respect and admiration for you. Gratitude as well for your friendship with Georgina.”

“Lady Georgina is a dear, dear friend. I would do anything within my power for her.” The pleasurable tingles where he held her hands had begun anew.

“You are one of the kindest spirits I have ever known.” He pulled her a step closer. “I have been waiting for the right moment to tell you just how much I admire you.”

His gaze warmed her as much as his words. She could fall into those big blue eyes and be lost forever. Willingly. Oh, dear, was she doing it again?

“Lord Brack.” She leaned back, pulling her hands from his and winding them firmly around her reticule. “I fear a headache has come upon me suddenly. Likely brought on by that potent Wrotham ale.”

“Mrs. Easton—”

She started toward the area where the horses and carriages waited. “Perhaps that is why ladies are seldom supposed to indulge in it.” She must get away from this place, before she was truly lost. “Will you please see me to the carriage? I believe it is time I returned to Lyttlefield Park.”

“Allow me to escort you back.” He fell in step beside her but didn’t offer his arm.

Perceptive man. If she touched him again she would completely lose control and quite likely abandon herself to him here and now. And while that prospect had a wild appeal to her at the moment and in this place, in the light of day it simply would not do. “Thank you, my lord, for the offer, but I cannot allow you to leave the festivities on my account.” The short drive back to Wrotham Park alone would give her time to cool this unusual desire for him. If she remained here, in the wild sensuality of the night, she might ravish Lord Brack on the spot.

“I believe it has concluded.” He swept his hand toward the now-ragged circle where the locals were milling about.

Indeed, the festival seemed at an end.

“It would be my greatest pleasure to see you home safely.” He chuckled. “Even though the robbers in the area have been apprehended, a lady at night alone is never a wise choice.”

Although this might be the one exception to that rule. “Very well then.” Elizabeth resisted a sigh. He’d got what she called a “stubborn man face” on—Dickon had shown it to her enough times that she recognized it on other gentlemen. She would simply have to keep a vigilant distance from this most attractive man. “I thank you for your kind offer.”

His joyful smile did nothing to buoy her confidence.

She steeled herself for the touch of his hand. “Should we wait for the others, perhaps? They will be needing the carriage as well.” If others accompanied them, surely she’d be less inclined to think heated thoughts about the gentleman seated across from her.

“The distance is less than half a mile. We will send it back directly we arrive.” He tapped on the roof, and the coachman started the team. “If you are in distress, we must get you home so you can have some tea as quickly as possible.”

“You are truly kind, my lord.” Elizabeth relaxed against the soft leather seat and smiled at the personable young man. He would make any woman an excellent husband in due time. It might even be her, if only she were ready to give up her love for Dickon.

She firmed her lips into a pleasant smile. Even though Charlotte and Georgie had been actively advocating a match between her and Lord Brack, that didn’t mean she was ready for it. Such a major change in her life must take more sober consideration than a few days’ acquaintance, delightful though the gentleman might be. She had Dickon’s children, Colin and Kate, to think of, after all. There was no need to rush into marriage.

Not even to satisfy the hollow ache deep in her core that suddenly yearned to be filled by the man in the carriage.

Chapter 2

Jemmy leaned back in the carriage, wishing for more light. He’d give anything to know what Mrs. Easton—Elizabeth, as he already called her to himself—was thinking right now. But the shadows fell across her lovely face, masking any inner thoughts that might help him to gauge her reactions.

The leather seat creaked as he eased his position. Perhaps the darkness was a blessing. While it shielded Elizabeth’s face, it also very effectively hid the lingering effects their passionate encounter had caused in his groin. His breeches had tented as soon as that indecent pagan kiss had taken place in the circle. Not from desire for Nora Burns—God, no—but from his fantasy that he was the Harvest Lord and Elizabeth his Corn Maiden.

Best not think along those lines at the moment. At least not until he was safely away from Elizabeth. Mrs. Easton. Damn it. He thought of her as Elizabeth. His Elizabeth, although after rushing his fences like that tonight he’d surely set himself back in his campaign to make her his wife. Perhaps some simple solicitude would help offset his blunder.

“Are you cold, Mrs. Easton? There’s a carriage blanket here.” She looked pale whenever the moonlight flashed in through the window, illuminating the sweet, heart-shaped face that so often wore a worried frown.

“No, thank you, my lord. I am fine. And we are almost at Lyttlefield Park.” She smiled, and his member leaped afresh.