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“No.”
“Ethan,” she cried, clearly exasperated when he gave no more information.
“I hope to have a private word with Lady Charity.”
His mother appeared as if a bug flew down her throat. However, Aunt Bess looked more contemplative.
“What kind of private word?” his mother demanded.
“That, madam, is not your concern.”
Then he walked away, slightly amused at her spluttering.
Ethan found Charity by the lake almost thirty minutes later, after he was informed by Jenna, she observed her friend walking that way. Dressed in a light-yellow walking dress, her hair caught atop her head in a riot of curls, she looked enchanting. She was skipping stones across the lake in a show of incredible skills.
“Charity.”
She stiffened, and her fingers curled over the stone in her hand before she faced him. “Hello, Ethan.”
He dipped into a slight bow. They stared at each other, both seemingly at a loss for what to say.
The morning after a torrid night of loving.
Those silent words seemed to linger in the air, and to his consternation, she blushed and could hardly meet his gaze. “What is this, shyness?”
She cut him an annoyed glance that pulled a smile to his mouth.
“It just feels…odd,” she whispered, blushing.
“Odd in a bad way?”
Finally, she met his eyes, and then the prettiest of smiles curved her mouth. “In a good way.”
The wind blew then, unknotting her hair from the simple chignon to float it around her face. Her freckles seemed to stand out in sharper relief, and her green eyes glowed with a tender awareness of him as a man, of herself as a woman, and that they were once again private. Memories of last night shone in her gaze, and he was certain they were also reflected in his. God, she was lovely and had been even more beautiful last night in her passion. And early this morning when he had taken her once more. The pale yellow gown she wore twisted under the breeze, and the hem danced against her slippers.
Ethan had the most profound sense then that he wanted her in his life forever. “Marry me,” he said gruffly.
Her eyes went bright with emotions. “Truly?” she gasped.
“Yes.”
She stepped eagerly toward him, and then she faltered, tucking a wisp of hair behind her eyes. “Why do you wish us to marry?”
That he had not expected. “Do you not wish to marry?”
“I…I do.”
“Then marry me, Charity.”
They stared at each other for several moments, and then her expression crumpled to one of aching sadness.
“No,” she said softly. “I cannot marry you.”
The surety of her response rocked him back on his heels. “Allow me the courtesy of an explanation.”
“You did not offer for me yesterday.”
“I did not want to marry you then.”
