“When the weather is fine again,” she stipulated, then laughed. “Wheneverit is fine, I will meet you there. I promise I will come. Will you?”
A man of dangerous repute would not be content with simple agreement. For that interval in London, even he would not have been content with that. Before Joshua could dismiss his impulse, he caught her close, lifting her higher to capture her lips beneath his own.
He felt Miss Emerson gasp. He heard her sigh. And his heart thundered when she surrendered to his kiss, parting her lips and melting against him with an abandon that hinted that there was promise in his suit.
As it was, it took all within him to halt the kiss before it went too far. It was a glorious kiss for all its short duration, one that enflamed him and left Miss Emerson flushed, her lips softened and rosy. Her eyes were full of stars as she looked up at him afterward. He placed her gently on her feet then ran his gloved thumb across her luscious mouth. She shivered, a good sign that she would be a willing partner on their wedding night, then nipped at his gloved finger playfully. Her eyes were dancing with mischief and it was all he could do to release her.
He brushed his lips across hers once more, unable to resist the temptation of another taste, then pivoted. He strode back to the horse, knowing the cloak flared around him as if he were a cavalier.
He also felt the weight of Miss Emerson’s gaze upon him.
She was still standing under the shelter of the roof when he had mounted and turned the horse, so he raised a hand in salute, then gave his heels to the steed. Had he known how long she peered after him, Joshua Hargood might have been more encouraged in his prospects.
As it was, he was pondering the complications and implications of what he had begun. It was true, Joshua was certain, that impulse was a poor master. Once it had led him to disaster, but he was not the same youth he had been then. Surely now he could avoid a repetition of such tragic events.
Was the prize not worth the risk? The prospect of winning Miss Emerson’s hand in his own was a tempting one. He could already envision her in his home and by his side, her irreverent laughter and audacity enchanting him a little more every day—and night. Her company made him feel alive as he had not in years and he wanted to be the daring rogue she desired.
Joshua could not deny the thunder in his veins from Miss Emerson’s sweet kiss.
No, he could only yearn for another and soon.
The question was how best to find a balance between his old ways and his nature while keeping his promise to his father.
There had to be a way to triumph in the pursuit of his goal.
Somehow, he would find it.
Helena’s champion was perfect.
His kiss had seared her very soul.
The incident had been worthy of the most romantic of novels—and she would find him in the forest when her ankle healed.
Helena hugged the details of her rescuer to herself as Aunt Fanny fussed over her and Becky hastened to see that she had both a hot bath and a bowl of broth. The fire was made in her room, despite the lateness of the season and Aunt Fanny’s frugality, and Helena was pampered in truth.
She was scarcely aware of it, her thoughts spinning as she strove to commit every detail of her gallant savior to memory.He was tall. He had a dark cloak and a powerful stride. His features had been obscured by the shadows cast by his hood, making him a delicious mystery, but he was powerful. He had swept her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He was wealthy, to be sure, given that horse and his waistcoat.
And his kiss. Oh, his kiss had been a marvel, a forbidden pleasure, and surely a sample of what might come. She dared not even hint to Aunt Fanny that such an embrace had been shared.
But she wanted another such kiss.
If not more.
Who was he? Did he take refuge at the pavilion?
No, he could not do that. Where would he keep his horse if he lived there? Plus he had been riding past the forest, with a destination other than the pagoda.
Helena pondered this puzzle. He had to have a home in the vicinity. She thought of Robin Hood in his forest haven but knew that would not do for her rescuer. No, he had a house, she was certain, one of ample proportions and considerable comfort. And his nature was honorable. He had been gallant, stealing only a kiss and one she would have been happy to offer. He was a nobleman, to be sure. Perhaps his home was hidden in a hollow. Perhaps it appeared to be less than it was.
Perhaps she would visit it soon, after they met again at the folly.
She surveyed her ankle, now cleaned and securely bound, and tried to will it to heal with all speed. She had to return to the pavilion on the earliest possible sunny afternoon, the better to learn more about the most interesting man in all of Nottinghamshire—if not all of England.
How would she endure the wait?
Her husband’syounger sister would be the death of them, Eliza Emerson was certain. She and Nicholas had braved a rainy evening to hear of Helena’s latest offense, and she did not doubt that Aunt Fanny would be fulsome in her criticism.
Helena had been at the table when they arrived, her ankle bound and her foot propped up, her manner as unrepentant as anticipated.
