Where had the salve and ointment he had given her for her sunburn come from?
Why was he being so solicitous, so kind? As if he wereconcernedabout her?
She frowned down at the page and then turned her gaze to the window. The grass was green, the hill sloping down toward the lake. On the opposite side, clumps of flowers blossomed in yellow, pinks, and lavenders. The day was sunny and warm once more.
“I thought perhaps I would find you here.”
She jumped and emitted an unladylike squeal at the unexpected, low voice slicing through the peaceful silence. Needham stalked over the threshold of the library, wearing riding boots. His wavy hair looked as if it had been tousled by the wind. His trousers hugged his lean, muscular thighs.
She huffed an irritated sigh. “What are you doing in here, Needham?”
It seemed to be the question she was asking him with far too much regularity.
“I live here.” He flashed her one of his effortless grins that put her in mind of their courting days.
She had somehow forgotten how very charming her husband could be. How dratted handsome as well. He exuded a rare, sensual magnetism most gentleman could never hope to possess. When he walked into a chamber, the air seemed to sizzle.
“I know why you are at Needham Hall, or at least why you claim to be here.” She fixed him with a pointed glare. “I meant to ask why you are in the library. Can you not see I desire to be alone?”
“Perhaps I wished for some reading material of my own,” he suggested, his sangfroid impeccable as he sauntered toward her. “Or mayhap I wished to check on the welfare of my patient. You were not at breakfast this morning, my darling invalid.”
“I am not an invalid,” she argued. “My feet are feeling better, however. Thank you.”
The last, she offered grudgingly.
His gaze traveled over her face as he neared her. “You did not apply the aloe to your face, did you?”
She pursed her lips. “No.”
“Stubborn.” He clucked his tongue and seated himself beside her on the divan.
Far too close. His thigh brushed her gown. His scent washed over her—fresh air, the outdoors, sandalwood, musk. She shifted away from him, seeking escape.
“I am not stubborn. I merely had no wish to smear your concoctions all over my face before Tom arrives,” she countered, striving for a calm to match his.
He stiffened. “Why the devil is Sidmouth returning?”
“I asked him to visit me.” Nell’s irritation surged once more. “It is altogether unreasonable of you to expect me not to see the man I intend to marry.”
He took her hand in his. “You are already married, Nell. To me.”
As if she could forget that unfortunate fact. She withdrew from his touch, hating the way it spiked her pulse. “That problem is easily remedied if you will but use logic.”
“Obtaining a divorce is not easy, and if there is anything more illogical than the two of us ending our union, I cannot think of what it would be.” His voice was grim. “Do you deny the passion that is between us?”
How could she?
Her reaction to him was irksome.
Thoroughly unwanted.
“My reaction was instinctive.” Again, she scooted toward the opposite end of the divan. “It is the same for me with everyone I kiss.”
That was not true, of course. No one had ever affected her the way Needham did. She had been a fool to suppose time and distance would lessen it.
“Everyone?” he bit out, his voice tense as his green gaze probed hers. “How many others have you kissed, Nell, aside from me?”
Needham had been her first kiss. Once upon a time, he had been the only man she had ever kissed.
