Love and the Single Heiress

Chapter 13

While the intimacy afforded by the dark lends itself to sensual encounters, Today’s Modern Woman should not hesitate to try making love without the cover of darkness. Seeing every nuance of your lovers expressions, watching surrender overtake control adds layers of pleasure to the lovemaking experience.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Feeling in need of a brisk ride to settle her runaway thoughts, Catherine decided to stop at the stables on her return walk from Genevieve’s cottage. The double oak doors were thrown open, and she stepped into the cool, shadowy interior. Dust motes danced on ribbons of sunshine streaming through the windows, and she drew in a deep breath, loving the heady scent of fresh hay, horseflesh, and leather. The murmur of masculine voices reached her ears, and her heart quickened. Was Andrew once again in the stables with Fritzborne?

She walked toward the voices, and realized the sound was coming from round the corner-the old, rear section of the stables that had not been refurbished. As she drew closer, the voices became more distinct, and she realized that one of the voices indeed belonged to Andrew. The other belonged to Spencer.

“That’s good,” said Andrew, his words growing more distinct with her every step. “Keep your left hand up. Higher. Protect your face. Now jab with your right.”

“I can’t bloody reach you,” came Spencer’s breathless reply, followed by a grunt. Catherine paused and raised her brows at her son’s language.

“Move your strong leg back a step. That will draw me in closer. Then, once I’m in your range, lunge forward and jab.”

“Ha! I’ll get you now.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

Catherine tiptoed forward, her slippers silent on the wood floor. When she reached the corner, she peeked around the doorway. And froze.

Andrew and Spencer appeared to be engaged in… fisticuffs? Neither wore their jackets or cravats, and both had rolled back their shirtsleeves to their elbows. Her jaw dropped as Andrew bounced on the balls of his feet, feinting back and forth, while Spencer, fists clenched at chin height, swung at him several times and missed. Then Andrew’s hands flashed out, narrowly missing Spencer’s jaw. Spencer leaned back to avoid the blow, and nearly toppled backward.

A cry of fright raced into her throat, but before she could utter it, Andrew caught her son’s upper arm and steadied him. “Watch your balance, Spencer. Keep your weight forward and raise those hands to prevent-”

“What on earth is going on here?” Catherine, voice shaking with a combination of anger and fright, stepped from the shadows and planted her hands on her hips.

Andrew froze at the sound of her outraged voice and glanced over his shoulder, hoping she would not look as upset as she sounded. Their eyes met, and his heart sank. Not only did she look angry, she appeared horrified as well.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, something struck him directly under the chin with a perfectly placed blow. Instantly realizing the something was Spencer’s fist, Andrew staggered back a step, got his feet tangled up, and landed squarely on his arse on the hard wood. He winced and made a mental note to fall toward the haystack next time.

“Good heavens, Spencer, have you-or rather both of you-taken leave of your senses?” came Catherine’s voice from behind him. He heard her rushing forward.

Spencer shifted his stupefied gaze from his clenched fist to Andrew, then back to his fist, then to his mother, who appeared to have steam exiting her ears. He visibly swallowed, then moved toward Andrew. “I say, Mr. Stanton, I didn’t mean to-”

Andrew held up one hand to stop the boy’s words while he rubbed his sore jaw with the other. “Now that was an excellent, perfectly executed blow, and a perfect example of the second rule I taught you, which is…?”

“Always take advantage of your opponent’s weakness.”

“Precisely. I was momentarily distracted by your mother’s arrival, and the next thing I know, I’m on my arse on the floor. Very nicely done.” He jumped to his feet, brushed some dust from his breeches, then with a smile, he offered Spencer his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

The flush of unmistakable pleasure washing over the boy’s face, combined with the wonder and gratitude in his expression, warmed Andrew’s heart in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Th… thank you, Mr. Stanton.” His smile collapsed as suddenly as it had appeared. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Andrew moved his jaw back and forth, then winked at the lad. “I’ll survive.” He then turned his attention to Catherine and smiled, pretending he did not notice her thunderous expression. “Your son is an excellent pupil.”

“Pupil? Please do not tell me that you are teaching him to fight with his fists.”

“All right, I won’t tell you that.”

“What are you doing?”

“Since you’ve requested that I not tell you that I’m teaching him to fight with his fists, it’s going to be very difficult to answer that question.”

She leveled a look on him that made him thankful he wasn’t milk, as he would have curdled on the spot. She then swiveled her glance toward Spencer. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mum. Of course. It’s Mr. Spencer who got knocked on his bottom.”

“And I’m very well, thank you.”

Her angry glance jumped back and forth between him and Spencer. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“I was teaching Spencer some fundamentals of pugilism,” Andrew said. “As you can see, he is a very apt pupil.”

“Why on earth would you teach him something like that? Did either of you consider the risks? He could have fallen. Gotten seriously hurt. He nearly toppled backward only a moment ago.”

“But I didn’t, Mum,” Spencer broke in. “Mr. Stanton caught me.”

“And if he had not been successful?”

“But he was,” Spencer reiterated. “He’s very strong and very fast. He built this special ring for me. It helps me keep my balance. Watch.” He demonstrated, then added, “The ring is surrounded by hay for a soft landing in case I should fall-which I won’t, because Mr. Stanton is an excellent teacher. And as for why Mr. Stanton is teaching me…”he raised his chin a notch. “It’s because I asked him to. It was my surprise for you.”

She waved her hand in an arc that encompassed the entire room. “Well, I certainly am surprised.”

“Since you know this much, you might as well know the rest, Mum.”

“There’s more?”

“I also asked Mr. Stanton to instruct me in fencing and horseback riding. We had our first riding lesson yesterday, and it went very well.” He turned to Andrew. “Didn’t it go very well?”

“Yes indeed,” Andrew confirmed.

All the color drained from her face as she stared at Andrew. “Ride? Are you mad? What if he fell from the saddle?”

“What if you fell from the saddle?” Andrew countered. “Or me? Or Philip? Should none of us ride?”

A frown bunched her brows, and she turned to Spencer, taking in his glowing, hopeful expression. “Did you… enjoy the lesson?”

“Very much. Oh, I was nervous at first, but I caught on quickly, and my nervousness fled.”

“He’s an extremely bright lad, Lady Catherine.”

“See there, Mum? Yesterday’s riding lesson was fine, and today’s pugilism lesson was perfectly safe as well,” Spencer said in a rush. He shuffled forward and laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Mr. Stanton made certain of it. And don’t worry. I’m not attempting to become the best pugilist in England. Just the best I can be. So that if anyone ever tries to hurt you, I can knock them onto their bottom, as I did Mr. Stanton.”

She blinked several times. “That’s very sweet, darling. And terribly chivalrous. But-”

“Please don’t ask me to stop, Mum. I’m liking it very much.”

“I… see.” She drew a deep breath. “Why don’t you return to the house and give me a few moments to discuss this with Mr. Stanton?”

Spencer sent a worried, hopeful look at Andrew, and Andrew gave him an encouraging nod.

“May I go to the springs instead of the house, Mum?”

“Yes, of course.”

Spencer came to Andrew, and whispered, “You’ll meet me for our lesson?”

Andrew nodded. He and Catherine stood in silence to the sound of Spencer’s shuffling steps.

When the footfalls faded into silence, she said, “Please explain yourself. What were you thinking to encourage Spencer with this dangerous endeavor?”

Andrew took a deep breath, then related the conversation he’d had with Spencer on the afternoon they’d arrived in Little Longstone. “Spencer is entering manhood,” he concluded. “He wants and needs to feel he can do some of the things other young men his age can do. He seemed so lost, floundering, and very unsure of himself. I only wanted to try to give him some measure of encouragement and confidence in himself-the same sort of encouragement I was given as a boy.”

She said nothing for several seconds, and Andrew was relieved to see that she no longer appeared quite so angry. “I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Stanton-”

“Andrew.”

She blushed. “Andrew. However-”

“It is not a matter of kindness, Catherine. It is a question of caring. Spencer has… touched my heart. He reminds me very much of someone I knew in America, and I would like to help him if I can.” He reached out and clasped her hands. “You have my word that I would never do anything to place him in danger.”

Her gaze searched his. “Naturally I don’t think you would intentionally hurt him, but something like this…”Her gaze panned around the room, then returned to his. “I cannot help but worry. How can you promise he won’t be hurt?”

“He-or anyone else for that matter-could suffer an injury anywhere. At any time.”

“What you say is true, but let us be realistic. Because of his awkward gait, the chances of Spencer hurting himself are greater than someone who can walk normally.”

“I agree, which is merely one more reason why I think these lessons in basic pugilism are a good idea. They will strengthen him. Help him gain balance. And that in turn will boost his confidence in himself. You could see how pleased he was with himself when he flattened me.”

“Yes. However, I think you helped him a bit there. And please do not forget how he’d almost fallen just before that.”

“Catherine, I’m not going to lie to you. He’d almost fallen a dozen times before you arrived.” Her eyes widened, and her cheeks paled. “But I steadied him each time. And each time, more minutes passed before he lost his balance again. He improved rapidly, and only after one lesson. Just as he did yesterday with the riding.”

“I actually tried to interest Spencer in learning to ride when he was younger. But he never wanted to try. Believing that the size of the horses frightened him, I purchased Aphrodite as a pony, but Spencer was not interested. Just as I did with venturing off the estate grounds, I finally stopped asking.” Her eyes met his, and his heart performed its familiar Catherine-induced roll. “Your presence here seems to have the effect of making my son wish to expand his horizons and try new things.”

“Does that upset you?”

She considered for several seconds, then said, “No, but I must admit that the cautious mother in me would have preferred that Spencer ask for lessons in backgammon rather than riding, pugilism, and fencing.”

Andrew smiled. “Believe me, the boy does not need any lessons on how to play backgammon.”

“But the nurturing mother in me wants my son to have as normal and full a life as possible. When I think of the added mobility learning to ride will afford him… I’m thrilled for him.” She blew out a long breath. “I cannot allow my fears to dampen his enthusiasm and his budding independence. But even as I say that, I’ll worry and be concerned for his safety. I’m entrusting his safety to you, Andrew.”

He brought her hands to his mouth and touched his lips to her fingertips, enjoying the way her bream caught at the gesture. “I am honored and humbled by your faith in me, as I know how important Spencer is to you. I swear your trust is not misplaced. Now, has this matter been settled?”

“Yes, I suppose it has. But be warned: I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

He smiled. “How delightful, as I relish having your eye upon me. A moment ago you said that my presence here seems to have the effect of making your son wish to expand his horizons and try new things. Does my presence perchance have the same effect on his mother?”

His heart skipped at the unmistakable flare of awareness in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’d like to invite you to try something new with me. I’ve never taken a moonlight stroll through an English country garden. Would you care to join me tonight?”

“You’ve a sudden yen to smell roses under the cover of darkness?”

“No. I’ve a long-standing yen to walk with you in a garden under the cover of darkness.” He very much enjoyed the way her eyes flickered at his admission. “If we were in London, I’d invite you to Vauxhall. Since we are in Little Longstone, I am forced to improvise.” He gave in to the overwhelming urge and trailed his fingertips over her satiny cheek. “Will you join me?”

She said nothing as her gaze searched his, and his heart pounded so loud he swore she had to hear it. He was asking for more than a simple walk. They both knew it. But surely she’d thought about last night’s conversation. He’d thought of little else. Surely she’d reached some sort of conclusion. Yet with each passing second of silence his hopes faded, as he could see she was still wrestling with her decision.

Then, finally, she cleared her throat. “Yes, Andrew. I will join you.”

He supposed that in the history of mankind sweeter words might have possibly been spoken, but he’d be damned if could imagine what those words might have been.

Catherine spent the entire evening in a mood of unprecedented heightened awareness that pushed her toward a state of near giddiness. Everything seemed sharper, clearer, all her senses fully engaged. She could not recall a time when mutton had tasted so savory, carrots more delicious, or wine more heady. With her every movement, her aqua muslin gown brushed against her uncommonly sensitive skin, skipping tingles along her nerve endings. The flickering pale tapers in the silver candelabra glowed brighter, the sound of Spencer’s laughter delighted her more, and the deep timbre of Andrew’s voice shivered thrills of anticipation down her spine.

Had any man ever looked so enticing? So tempting? The muted candlelight highlighted his dark good looks, casting his face in an intriguing array of shadows that lured her gaze again and again. Dressed in a dark blue jacket, snowy shirt, and fawn breeches, he looked masculine, imposing, and utterly delicious.

Every look that passed between them inflamed her, heating her skin. Every smile he gave her fluttered excitement to her heart. She knew that her upcoming moonlight stroll with Andrew was responsible for a good portion of her giddiness, but the rest of it was due to the course of action she’d mapped out for herself. She was resolute. She knew what she wanted. And after several hours of mulling over her options this afternoon, she’d finally figured out how to get it. Now she just hoped that she could stand the anticipation until she could put her plan into action.

After dinner the three of them retired to the drawing room, where she watched Andrew and Spencer play a spirited, highly competitive game of backgammon.

“This is your last roll, Mr. Stanton,” Spencer chortled, rubbing his hands together with glee. “You are about to be defeated.”

“Perhaps. But if I roll a double six, I win.”

Spencer gave a derisive snort. “What are the chances of that?”

Andrew smiled. “One in thirty-six.”

“Not very good odds.”

“They could be worse.”

Andrew rolled the dice onto the board. Catherine stared in amazement at the pair of sixes.

Spencer’s eyes goggled, then he laughed. “Blimey. I’ve never seen such luck, have you, Mum?”

“No,”Catherine said with a laugh. “Mr. Stanton is indeed very lucky.” Her gaze shifted to Andrew, and when their eyes met, he smiled.

“Yes, I am indeed a very lucky man.”

His smile wrapped around her like a warm cloak, surrounding her in an aura of pleasurable heat.

Spencer rose, then extended his hand. “Excellent job. But I’ll emerge victorious when next we play.”

Andrew stood and solemnly shook his hand. “I shall look forward to the challenge.”

Spencer yawned, then shot Catherine a sheepish look. “I’m tired,” he admitted.

“You had a busy day.” She sent Andrew an arch, sideways look. “What with knocking Mr. Stanton on his bottom and all.”

Spencer chuckled, then stifled another yawn. “I think I’d like to go to bed. I need to rest up for tomorrow’s riding and pugilism lessons.”

Catherine ignored the brick of worry that landed in her stomach at the thought of those lessons. “All right, darling. Do you want me to help you with the stairs?”

“No, thank you. I can do it myself.”

Catherine forced herself to nod and smile. And accept but yet another step in her son’s need for self-reliance. “Sleep well.”

“I always do.” He kissed Catherine’s cheek, shook Andrew’s hand, then quit the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Andrew’s gaze met hers, and his eyes were filled with quiet understanding. “The closer to adulthood we get,” he said, “the more we want to do things for ourselves.”

“I know. Deep down, I’m very proud of his emerging independence, but there’s also that part of me that misses the little boy who needed me for everything.”

“He’ll always need you, Catherine. Not in the same way he did when he was a baby, of course, but the need for your love and support will always be there.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. And I’m glad.” She smiled. “Being needed is a very nice feeling.”

“It is indeed.”

Something in the way he said the words made her suddenly wonder if they were still talking about Spencer. Before she could decide, he asked, “Would you like to take our stroll? Or…”He indicated the backgammon board with a tilt of his head. “Perhaps you’d first prefer to receive a trouncing, er, engage in a game of chance?”

She raised her brows. “With a man who has already demonstrated that he can toss double sixes at will? Thank you, but no.”

He inclined his head before extending his elbow with a courtly flourish. “Then to the gardens we go.”

Catherine rested her hand very properly on the crook of his elbow, knowing that if she had her way, it was the last proper gesture she would make for the remainder of the evening.

They exited the house through the French windows leading to the terrace. They walked slowly across the flagstones, and Catherine drew a deep breath, absorbing the welcome cool air on her heated skin and the comforting outdoor scents of grass, leaves, and flowers, mixed with the intriguing, subtle hint of sandalwood that belonged to Andrew. The full moon glowed in the dark sky, a gleaming pearl against black velvet, blanketing the landscape with a shimmering silvery illumination.

After walking down the curved steps, they headed toward the garden. The path branched off in several directions, but Catherine veered toward the right.

“Would you mind if we took the left fork?” Andrew asked. “There’s something I want to show you.”

A frown pulled down her brows at tins cog in the wheel of her perfectly laid plans. “What is it?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Confound it, the man vexed her at every crossroads- literally, in this case. There was nothing to the left except a few marble statues, while to the right was the gazebo. And the gazebo was where she intended to lure him. She wanted to insist they walk to the right, indeed she wanted to gallop to the blasted gazebo, but in light of his polite request, she couldn’t think of a way to deny him without appearing churlish. Or blurting out the truth of her plans.

“Very well,” she agreed, hoping she did not sound as disgruntled as she felt. Humph. Well, she’d politely stare at whatever this thing was he wanted to show her, then turn him around. Or she could just continue him along the same path, which would eventually curve around and lead to the back of the gazebo, albeit by a more circuitous route.

Anxious to get on with things, she started down the left path, barely resisting the urge to grab his sleeve and tug him along.

“Do you normally walk so fast, Catherine?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Do you normally walk so slow?”

“Well, this is supposed to be a stroll. Sadly, I did not remember to bring a dictionary, and it appears we are once again in need of one. You seem to have confused the meaning of stroll with that of sprint.”

“I do not require a dictionary. I am simply not a woman who likes to dawdle.”

“Ah. An admirable quality,” he said, slowing his steps even more. Good Lord, snails moved more quickly than this. “However, there are certain things that should be dawdled over.”

“Such as?” She wasn’t particularly interested, but perhaps if she kept him talking, he’d be distracted enough to move along a little faster.

“The sound of a night breeze rustling the leaves. The lingering scent of the day’s blooms…”

She barely suppressed a sigh of impatience. Heaven help her, here he was, waxing poetic about breezes and blooms, while she grew more frustrated by the minute. Could the man not see that she was dying to be held in his arms and kissed until her knees turned to mush?

Ohhh, she inwardly fumed. What sort of miserable luck had fallen upon her to curse her with an attraction to a man who was clearly as thick as fog? And who moved no faster than a sleeping turtle?

“… scent of a woman’s neck.”

That phrase yanked her from her brown study with a jerk. Scent of a woman’s neck? That sounded… interesting. Promising. Damnation, what had she missed? Before she could ask him, he paused, then stepped around to face her. She took note of their surroundings and realized they stood in her favorite spot in the garden, a small, secluded semicircle she fondly referred to as Angel’s Smile. He must have stumbled upon it accidentally, as it was hidden from the main path by tall hedges. A casual walker would pass it by unless they knew to look for it.

“This is your favorite part of the garden,” he said.

Her brows shot upwards. “How did you know that?”

“Fritzborne told me.”

“Indeed? I did not know you two were so… well acquainted.”

“We shared a lengthy chat the day I arrived. We also talked quite a bit while we cleared the debris from the room in the stables where I set up the pugilist’s ring, after which he offered me a glass of his whiskey. He’s a good man. Drinks absolutely vile whiskey, but a good man just the same.”

“You drank whiskey with my stable man?” She tried to imagine Bertrand ever doing something like that and utterly failed.

“I did. And the way that liquor tasted, I’m not sure I’d be able to repeat the task.” He smiled, and his teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. “Actually, it was only the first sip that hurt. After that, my insides turned numb.”

“And while you were drinking this whiskey, he just happened to mention that this is my favorite part of the garden.”

“It was actually while we exercised the horses that first day. I asked him to describe your favorite part of the garden. He told me it was a place you called Angel’s Smile and that it was a replica of your mother’s favorite spot in her garden.”

She nodded, slightly bemused. “Fritzborne planted the hedges for me, and I did all the flowers-mostly roses, asters, delphiniums, and lilies, as those were Mother’s favorites.” She looked around her, the peace she always felt in this spot infusing her. “You need to see it during the day to appreciate the beauty and serenity. The way the sun shines through those trees,” she said, pointing to a copse of towering elms about twenty feet away, “bathes this little nook with a semicircle of light that looks like-”

“An angel’s smile.”

“Yes. Before her death, my mother and I spent many happy hours together in the gardens. When I’m here, I feel as if she’s with me, smiling down at me from heaven.” Feeling suddenly embarrassed by her ramblings, she said, “It’s just silly whimsy.”

He gently clasped her hands and entwined their fingers, a gesture that simultaneously comforted and excited her. “It’s not silly, Catherine. It’s important to have places that mean something to us. Places where we can go to settle our thoughts. Find peace. Relive our favorite memories. Or just enjoy a bit of quiet.”

“You must have such a place of your own, to understand it so well.”

“I’ve had many during my travels.”

“Have you one in England?”

“I do.” He smiled. “When next you travel to London, I’ll show you my favorite bench in Hyde Park, and my favorite alcove in the British Museum.”

She returned his smile and firmly ignored her inner voice, which coughed to life to remind her that she had no intention of traveling to London in the foreseeable future. “Why did you ask Fritzborne about my favorite part of the garden?”

“Because I needed to know for your surprise.”

“Another surprise? I’m not certain how many more surprises I’m capable of experiencing today.”

“Have no fear. Come.”

He released her one hand, then, still holding the other in his warm grip, he led her toward the copse of elms. Curious, she looked around, but did not see anything out of the ordinary. When he stopped near the tallest tree, however, the scent of freshly dug dirt tickled her nose, and she looked down. And stilled.

There, in the pale glow of the moonlight, stretched an unfamiliar flower bed filled with a profusion of plants of various sizes surrounding the two outermost trees. She instantly recognized the familiar foliage, and her breath caught. “What is that?”

“Do you not recognize the plant? It is-”

“Dicentra spectabilis,” she whispered. “Yes, I know.”

“You said the bleeding heart was your favorite. I noticed a number of bleeding hearts scattered about your garden, but not a single large grouping.”

As if in a daze, she released his hand and crouched down to run her finger gently over a delicate row of tiny, perfectly shaped red-and-white hanging blooms. “You did all this?”

“Well, I cannot take all the credit. I enlisted Fritzborne’s and Spencer’s help.”

“They know of this?”

“Yes. Spencer helped me pick out the plants when we visited the village. Fritzborne hid them in the stables, then transported them here this afternoon. Spencer and I planted them.” He chuckled. “I think keeping this a surprise nearly killed the lad.”

“Yes, I imagine it did.” She pulled her gaze away from the stun-inducing wonder of the flower bed and looked up at him over her shoulder. “This is why you wanted to go to the village? To purchase these?”

“Among other things, yes.”

She moved to rise, and he immediately extended his hand to assist her. She slipped her hand into his, absorbing the warm, callused texture of his palm as it surrounded hers. When she once again stood facing him, she did not release his hand.

“Other things?” she repeated, her heart thumping in slow, hard beats. “Don’t tell me there are more surprises.”

He smiled. “All right. I won’t tell you that.” He brushed an errant curl from her forehead, and her hard-thumping heart skipped a beat at the intimate gesture.

“I cannot believe that the small flower shop in the village had such an abundance of plants available,” she said.

“Actually they had only a few. When I told the shopkeeper I wanted more, he suggested some of the village residents might be willing to sell their plants. So Spencer and I proceeded to knock on doors.” He laughed. “I think we met nearly everyone in the village in our quest for bleeding hearts.”

She could only stare. “You’re saying you went to the homes of people you didn’t know to ask them if you could purchase plants from their gardens?”

“That sums it up very well. Everyone was quite happy to allow Spencer and me to dig up their plants for ‘Lady Catherine’s surprise. ’”

Heavens, there had to be at least three dozen plants surrounding the elms. “You went to a great deal of trouble.”

“I wouldn’t call doing something for you trouble.”

Her gaze drifted downward again, and at the sight of what he’d done for her, a rush of tenderness swamped her, swelling her throat with emotion, and pushing moist heat behind her eyes. Returning her gaze to his, she squeezed his hand and spoke the simple truth, “No man has ever done such a lovely, thoughtful thing for me.” And romantic; her inner voice chimed in with a feminine sigh. You forgot to add romantic.

He raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin inside her wrist. “I did tell you I enjoy being first.”

The feel of his mouth on her skin, the quiet words breathing heat, licked tiny trails of fire up her arm. He then lowered her hand to press it against his chest, where his heart thumped strong and fast against her palm. Almost as strong and fast as her heart was beating. Because of the way he was looking at her. How close he stood. And because of not only what he’d done, but the way he’d done it.

“The flowers are even more special because you included Spencer in your surprise,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

To her mortification the moisture building up behind her eyes overflowed, and a pair of tears leaked from her eyes.

His eyes widened with a look that could only be described as masculine panic. “You’re crying.”

He sounded so horrified and accusatory, the sob that was caught in her throat bubbled forth as a laugh. “I’m not.”

“Then what do you call this?” He caught one tear on the tip of his finger while his other hand frantically patted his pockets, presumably for a handkerchief.

Now amused-thank goodness-she slipped her own lace hanky from her long sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

“Are you still crying?”

“I was not crying.”

“Again we require the dictionary.” He reached out and took the handkerchief from her, then gently dabbed at her cheeks. When he finished, he tilted his head first left, then right, peering at her closely. “It appears you’ve stopped.”

“I had not started. I’d simply… sprung a freakish leak of the eyeballs. Today’s Modern Woman does not cry when a man brings her flowers. Heavens, if that were the case, I’d have been in a state of constant hysterics for the past fortnight.”

She said the words in a teasing manner, but the instant they left her lips, she realized that these were not just any flowers. Moreover, it was becoming alarmingly clear that the man standing in front of her was not just any man.

He handed her back her handkerchief, which she tucked up her sleeve. “Well, consider me relieved that your, er, freakish eyeball leak has corrected itself.”

He did indeed look relieved, and she had to bite back a smile. Even in the aftermath of the shooting, he’d remained calm and collected. Yet the sight of feminine tears clearly undid the man, a trait she found utterly endearing.

Dear God. She simply did not want to find something endearing about him. Bad enough she already found him painfully attractive. Speaking of which, her inner voice interjected, ‘tis well past the time to put your plan into action.

Angel’s Smile would do just as nicely as the gazebo, and she did not want to wait any longer for him to hold her. Kiss her. Which, for some reason she could not fathom, he had yet to do. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and demand to know what the bloody blazes he was waiting for. Well, it was simply time to take matters into her own hands.

Giving him what she hoped passed for a carefree, yet with a hint of alluring smile, she said, “Your generosity and thoughtfulness makes me feel all the more guilty about the wager we made.”

“Wager?”

“Regarding you reading A Ladies’ Guide?”

His confused expression cleared. “Ah, yes. That wager. Why do you feel guilty about it?”

“When we made the wager, we’d agreed upon a time of three weeks. Since then we’ve mutually decided that you’ll only be in Little Longstone for one week. I’m afraid that given the time constraints and the fact that it would prove nearly impossible for you to secure a copy of the Guide here, I think we need to discuss terms.”

His expression turned thoughtful, and taking two steps backward, he leaned his back against the thick trunk of the elm behind him and studied her. “If it would be nearly impossible for me to secure a copy of the Guide here in Little Longstone in one week’s time, I don’t see how I would have been able to accomplish the task in three weeks. Or three months for that matter. Which makes me wonder if perhaps I was duped.”

“Not at all. With three weeks at your disposal, you would have had sufficient time to send an order to a London bookstore and have had a copy delivered to you here. If you’d been so inclined.”

“Ah. But now that I only have a week-”

“I fear that is no longer a viable option,” she said, injecting just the right note of regret in her voice. However, her conscience made her ask, “If you still had the three weeks’ time, would you have sent an order to London?”

“No.”

It was all Catherine could do to keep her lips from curving into a triumphant smile. Perfect. He’d swallowed her bait without a hitch. Now all she had to do was reel him in.

“I thought not,” she said, keeping her expression serious, “which means that-”

“Our wager is void.” He nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

She stared at him. “Void? That is not what I was going to say at all.”

“Oh? What were you going to say?”

“That I was the winner.”

His brows shot upward, and he folded his arms across his chest. “How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“You just admitted that you would not have made arrangements to secure a copy of A Ladies’ Guide from London, regardless of the length of your stay in Little Longstone. You will recall that in order for you to win the wager, you had to read the Guide, then engage in a discussion about it, which you cannot do if you do not have a copy, which you cannot secure without making special arrangements, which by your own admission you’ve no plan to do, which, even if you did plan to do, you no longer have the time to do.” She finished her speech with a flourishing wave of her hand and sucked in a much-needed breath. Then she offered him her sweetest smile. “Therefore, that means I am the winner.”

He remained silent for several seconds, studying her with a slightly bemused expression that delighted her. Excellent. She’d obviously thrown him off-balance. Her strategy was working brilliantly. Now for the final step…

“Do you concede?” she asked.

“It would appear I have little choice.”

Her heart leapt in anticipation. “As I’m sure you recall, the winner is entitled to a boon of their choosing.”

“Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, I do recall that.” He chuckled. “So that is why you wanted me to concede rather than call our wager void. I suppose I’ll be spending tomorrow polishing the silver.”

She took one step closer to him. “No.”

“Weeding the roses?”

Another step closer. “No.”

“Mucking out the stalls?”

Another step. Now only an arm’s length separated them. Her heart was beating so hard she felt the pounding in her ears. “No.”

His watchful gaze held hers for what felt like an eternity, but was surely no more than ten seconds. Finally, he said in a husky voice, “Then perhaps you should tell me what you do want, Catherine.”

Carpe diem, her inner voice prodded. Summoning all her courage, Catherine took one more step forward. Her body brushed against his, and his masculine scent filled her head. Encouraged by his sharp intake of breath, she placed her palms against his chest and looked directly into his eyes.

“I want you to make love to me.”