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‘Only one?’ he asked, amusement at that unlikely possibility breaking through his dismay over the note of finality in her speech.
‘Well, I can’t promise never to ask anything in future for the children, but I do promise never to ask anything else for me. Nothing but this. May I kiss you goodbye?’
After a moment of shock at the unexpected request, he answered by pulling her into his embrace. She slid her fingers into his hair, sending shivers down his body as she tilted her head up and opened her mouth to him.
Twining her tongue with his and moulding herself against his body, she kissed him with everything in her—lips, tongue, fingers stroking his head, legs and torso rubbing against him, even her booted foot wrapped around his ankle. She kissed him as if the world were about to end, as if there would never be anything of fire and passion and intimacy again.
He took everything she offered, and returned it.
When at last she released her hold on him, he was breathless and so dizzy he nearly fell over. For a few moments, there was nothing but their panting breaths and the almost tangible connection sparking in the air between them.
‘I would really rather consider that hello,’ he muttered when he’d assembled wits enough for speech.
She gave him a little smile, so sad he felt an immediate need to assuage whatever hurt had caused it. His confusion and concern mounted as tears sheened her eyes.
While he stood frozen, unsure what to do, she opened her lips as if to speak, closed them and shook her head, as if the situation were hopeless. ‘Goodbye...my very dear Mr Ransleigh,’ she whispered and turned away.
Before his muzzy brain decoded her intent, she’d led her grazing mount to the rock ledge, scrambled up and launched herself into the saddle. Without another word, she kicked the mare to a gallop.
Dom stood watching her ride away, his body still afire with unsatisfied desire, his thoughts in turmoil, while within the raging cauldron of chaotic emotion something shouted that letting her go was wrong.
After a few more dazed moments, he shook himself free and went to claim his own horse. Leading it to the ledge, he remounted and nudged the gelding towards Bildenstone Hall.
Hello, not goodbye, kept echoing in his brain.
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks later, Dom was looking through records in the estate office, trying to make sense of harvest quantities, when Wilton came in, out of breath. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Ransleigh. We’ve just had a soldier stop by, asking for directions to the stone barn. He said he meant to call on Miss Branwell.’
An immediate stab of jealousy struck him, so surprising he didn’t quite hear Wilton’s next words.
‘...so you might ride over and check on her,’ the butler was saying.
‘Ride over and check on her?’ he repeated.
‘She may be there by herself, with just that young female teacher and the little ones, and no man to protect her.’
‘Did this soldier look like someone she might need protecting from?’
‘I can’t rightly say, sir. But he was young, and...vigorous.’
While that observation didn’t make Dom’s struggle to suppress the unaccountable jealousy any easier, he did wonder about Wilton’s unusual level of concern for a girl he’d met only a handful of times. Had Miss Branwell confided to the butler that increasing the staff at Bildenstone—and thus easing his burdens—had been her idea? Somehow, that didn’t sound like her.
‘You seem rather worried.’
‘All the neighbourhood thinks highly of her, sir. Giving a place to Miss Andrews, when other families in the area that could have didn’t lift a finger. Employed many others, too, and Young Joe told me that she paid all the workers she hired twice the going rate, since she wanted the building completed as soon as possible. And made sure there was ham, cheese and ale available for all, so they didn’t have to bring their own. Mrs Greenlow was just telling Cook what a shame it was she lost her man in the war and fair broke her heart, her being so young to be alone, no matter but it’s noble for her to dedicate herself to those poor unfortunates. Anyways, no one would want to see any harm come to her.’
Good thing she’s not hunting a new butler, Dom thought, awed at that paean of praise from the normally laconic Wilton. Still, he felt a swell of pride in her; some Christian folk gave lip service to the need to do good in the community, but the concern Theo Branwell showed for her orphans, the care she urged him to show for his employees, she showed to everyone.
A pang of longing echoed through him. While he was dampening down that equally unsought-for emotion, Wilton said, ‘You will ride over and make sure everything is all right, won’t you, sir?’
A rush of excitement stirred his senses. Though he felt somewhat guilty at taking advantage of this situation to break their self-imposed separation, he wouldn’t be staying long, and there would be a school full of witnesses to make sure he didn’t indulge any carnal longings. And though he was reasonably certain the redoubtable Miss Branwell, who’d followed the army from India to Portugal to Brussels, would have no trouble taking care of herself if some soldier turned importunate, she might still be alone and unprotected out there.
Maybe it would be wise to check on her, he thought, a niggle of unease stirring.
‘Better send to the stables for my gelding.’
‘Thank you, Mr Ransleigh,’ Wilton said, obviously relieved.
‘I shall do my best,’ Dom assured the butler before trotting up the stairs to change into his riding gear.
* * *
Ten minutes later, spurring his mount down the lane, Dom let his thoughts stray to the object he’d been trying so hard not to think of since the incident by the wildflower meadow.
That kiss—heaven and stars, what a kiss! It’s a wonder he hadn’t turned molten on the spot. If she kissed like that, he couldn’t imagine what ecstasy a full loving could promise.
But what pulled him to Theo Branwell was more than just a promise of sensual heaven. The fact that she’d shared and understood the demands, the sacrifices and the unequalled camaraderie of the army had drawn him to her from the first. He’d been gratified and delighted to find they shared a love of books and horses. She stimulated his mind as much as she stirred his body, challenging easy assumptions, jolting him to think in different directions, startling him with her unusual perspectives and her clear, bright honesty. She made him think more, dared him to do more, to be more.
How much brighter his days had become since he stumbled into her in that lane! She’d pushed him into trying to drive and ride again, restoring those pleasures to him much sooner than he probably would have discovered them on his own.
He admitted to himself that he’d been jealous when she’d talked about her lost fiancé. From what he’d seen of Theo Branwell, the man she loved would have been wrapped in a devotion so complete, so intense, nothing would ever have been able to penetrate it. Her fierce declaration of unlimited loyalty only underscored how easily he’d been able to part from Elizabeth, and how easily she’d let him go.
In fact, thinking back on that kiss—a pleasure he’d sternly denied himself—he was convinced that, though Miss Branwell might be still unmarried, she was not completely inexperienced. She had been engaged to a man she loved completely; it wasn’t beyond possibility that they’d anticipated their vows.
His body rejoiced at the idea of Theo Branwell coming to his bed, prompting his mind to consider possibilities for making that happen.
Only a moment’s contemplation reminded him there were none. Experienced or not, he concluded with a sigh, she was still technically a maid. And she was quite right that an affair discovered would tarnish her reputation and make the lives of her orphans that much more difficult.
Unless...unless he decided to court her with honourable intent?
Shockingly, the voice of self-interest and prudence didn’t immediately reject the notion. Though, as they’d discussed, he didn’t yet have a clear idea of his future, and thus had no business asking anyone to share it, he could at this juncture not imagine finding a lady more delightful, challenging, and sensual than Theo Branwell.
Fortunately, there was no need to make an immediate decision. He could let the tantalising notion rattle around in his brain and see where it ended up. Miss Branwell and her orphans were only just getting established in their new homes, and neither he nor she were going anywhere else any time soon.
Pleased and intrigued by the possibility of being able to pursue an association with Theo Branwell after all, Dom kicked his mount to a canter and guided him down the lane to the stone barn.
* * *
Meanwhile, Theo stood in the kitchen area at the school, supervising the installation of the new cooking stove. In the open space beyond, students at their desks recited a lesson, after which Miss Andrews had asked Theo to read them a story copied out of Bildenstone library’s volume of Arabian Nights.
