“That depends,” he said, “upon your d-definition of r-romance.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.” She looked back at him. “Where is everyone else?”
“Tramping and riding about the f-farms,” he said. “Lady Darleigh and Lady Trentham are at the h-house.”
“Why did you not go too?” she asked. “I suppose you have an estate and farms of your own. You are surely interested. And they are your friends, and this is a special gathering. Why did you not go with them?”
“I w-wanted to see you instead,” he said. “And I had t-told you I would come.”
She walked back behind the folly, and he followed. There was a stretch of grass there, sloping down toward the water. It was completely secluded. The temple would hide it from the house side of the lake. Trees growing down to the banks of the lake and overhanging them hid it from prying eyes on the other three sides.
She stopped halfway down the slope.
“Why?” she asked.
He stood with his back against the folly and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I m-made you what was probably the most inept m-marriage proposal in h-history yesterday,” he said. “I c-came to make amends.”
She turned her head to look back at him.
“Why?”
Did all women ask why when a man proposed marriage to them? But he had trapped himself now, idiot that he was, by his failure to speak up sooner. He could hardly sink in picturesque elegance onto one knee before her now and draw some flowery speech out of the empty recesses of his mind. He would get grass stains on one knee of his pantaloons, anyway.
And why the devildidhe want to marry her? He had had all night to work it out, but his thoughts had flitted among any and every subject on earth except that one. He had even slept. Had he been so incapable of focusing before his injuries? It was hard to remember. And had it always been hard to remember?
He stared at her from beneath half-closed lids, and she waited for his answer, her eyebrows raised, her hands clasped at her waist. She looked picturesque and wholesome and... safe.
Good Lord! He had better not tell her either of those last two things.
What she looked like was the end of the rainbow. No—ghastly image. She bore no resemblance whatsoever to a pot of gold—crass stuff. Ridiculous image. She was like that dream everyone dreams of something that is always just out of reach but perhaps attainable if only...
He swore under his breath, tossed his hat down onto the grass, sent his gloves in pursuit of it, and strode toward her. His hands closed about her upper arms and yanked her against him.
“Why else would I want to m-marry you but to be able to d-do this and more whenever I want, night or day?” he said between his teeth before kissing her hard and openmouthed.
He expected her to push him away, and he would have allowed her to do it. He had no right.... Sheoughtto push him away. Instead she somehow slid her gloved hands up between them and cupped his face with them and gentled the kiss.
He drew his head back a little, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against hers beneath the brim of her bonnet. He could not have made a worse ass of himself or insulted her more if he had tried. He had just told her he wanted to marry her for sex and nothing else. He had grabbed her and kissed her like a randy schoolboy who had never even heard the wordfinesse.
“Let’s sit down,” she said with a sigh, and she released him and sat on the grass before removing her gloves and setting them beside her.
He sat next to her, draped his arms over his knees, and stared out over the water to the trees at the other side.
“Lord Ponsonby,” she said, “you do not even know me.”
“Then tell me,” he said.
“Oh, you know the bare facts,” she said, “and there is nothing much to add. I have not lived a life of high adventure. I am gently born on both my mother’s and my father’s sides, but there is no whisper of aristocracy in our bloodlines. We are ordinary people. I was married to William Keeping for five years.”
“The dull dog,” he said.
She rounded on him.
“You did notknowhim,” she cried. “And I would not tolerate disrespect of him even if you had. I miss him. I miss him dreadfully. There is gaping emptinesshere.” She patted a hand to her bosom.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. Maybe therehadbeen some passion after all.
