Jonas remained with Silas and the horses for a full hour, enjoying the bracing cold and gently falling snow as much as his horses did. But as the snow began to thicken again and mix with ice, he blinked away the icicles sticking to his eyelashes and knew it was time to seek shelter. “Let’s get them back into the stable, Silas. The snow’s turning to sleet now. Can’t have them slipping and damaging a leg.”
Silas called over two young grooms, and they all hurried into the field to lead the horses back to their stalls.
Jonas was covered in snow and little shards of ice by the time he returned to the house and stomped in through the kitchen. Mrs. Fitch hurried forward to take his cloak and gloves. “Your Grace, your hair’s soaking wet,” she admonished him, because he had not worn a hat.
He raked his fingers through it and felt the icy crystals melt in his palm. “No cause for alarm,” he teased. “It’ll dry.”
“Shall I bring some tea for you into your study?”
“Make it a pot of hot cocoa, and bring it up to my bedchamber. Cups for me and Miss Temple. I want to look in on her. She looked a bit pale for much of yesterday.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He climbed the stairs and marched down the hall toward his quarters, his mind on Ailis and his foolishness in showing off to her with that kiss designed to make her melt. He knew she was a novice and would have no idea the impact a scorching kiss would have on her.
And kiss number three had been scorching. Blazing hot.
Even he, despite his cynicism and experience, had been singed by the heat of it.
Perhaps this third kiss would not have worked had she been an icy spinster, but she was warm and caring, an untapped font of passion.
All she needed was someone to draw it out of her, to stir those fires hidden inside her.
Blessed saints.
What a sweetly hot response he’d elicited from her. But to what purpose? Simply to prove to himself that he could conquer her?
He ought to have realized that kiss would change the game, for he now knew he had the power to break her heart.
He cursed himself for a fool and resolved to make amends as soon as possible.
The door stood ajar, so he did not think to give it a knock before peering in. “Martha, how—”
Heat roared through him and seared his lungs.
His heart stopped pumping and the breath rushed out of him.
“Temple, why is this door open?” he said with a growl, hardly hearing himself while lust roared through him.
He struggled to regain his breath and steady his pounding heart.
“What are you doing in here?” she cried. “You weren’t supposed to come up here before midday.”
Realizing he was gawking, he immediately turned his back on her. But the glorious vision of Ailis wearing nothing but her chemise, one sleeve dangling off her shoulder and slipping to the point of almost revealing one round, firm breast, could not be expunged.
Almost.
But he’d seen the lush, creamy swell of it.
Martha had obviously just given Ailis a sponge bath andnotthoroughly dried her off, because in addition to the chemise being half off her, there were wet patches on the fabric that were transparent in the most indelicate spots.
Her arse, for one.
Gad, what a perfectly rounded bottom on the girl.
Martha must have also washed Ailis’s hair, because it was wet and unbound, the droplets sliding down her silken skin and clinging to her delightful curves.
More visions of her glorious breasts and backside flashed before him.
