He nodded. Her fingers—the lightest weight—conjured spellbinding images of trust and content. The look of dawning admiration in her eyes became an ocean-tide pull.
Dammed inconvenient it was not deserved.
“Katherine—”
“Wait.” She bit her lip. “Can we just enjoy companionable silence? Please?”
She wanted him to wait? He swallowed. Hard. He’d wait the night. A year. His life.
The rain lifted, and their footsteps made a steady, tapping rhythm against the wet earth. She walked, not in the least bit hurried, close by his side. As they followed a path that wove through the village and onto Southford grounds, he wondered why he had never experienced a sensation like this before. If he’d known quietlywalkingwith a woman, strides equally placed, would make him feel positively royal, he’d have taken to the lanes and alleys every day.
Then again, it wasn’t just any woman holding his arm.
Katherine was a woman whose spirit shined and whose kindness to those deserving knew no bounds. That light within her made her touch radiate with warmth, stimulating his veins until they shimmered the way to his toes.
She stopped underneath the shelter of some branches.
Finally, she broke the silence. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully?”
“I will,” he replied, as if he were not a man riddled with secrets. “What would you like to know, Hellion?”
She blinked. Eternity. She blinked again. “A man of your stature has the luxury of choice.” She wet her lips. “Why choose me?”
A boulder squatted between his lungs.I needed a proper heir.I am nothing without my name.
But his insistent belief no longer rang quite true. He looked into her eyes and worlds of possibility unfurled like frigate sails.
I need you.
The first answer cost him everything he was. The second knotted his limbs in terror.
She lifted both brows. “Am I to be a feather in your rakish cap?”
His lips rose of their own accord. “You are many things, none of them a feather. I am many things, none of them a rake… Although, I am flattered.”
A hazy smile graced her lips. “To call a man arakeis not a compliment.”
He rocked back on his heels. “It does, however, imply a certain charm.”
She half groaned, half laughed. “Youknowyou exude a certain charm.”
“If I do,” his gaze traveled over her face, “my charm has failed where I most wished it to succeed.”
Her eyes dropped to his mouth in a visual caress that hooked him in his gut. “No,” she replied quietly, “it has not.”
He lifted her hand and placed her fingers against his breastbone, just above the top button of his waistcoat. Her gaze locked on to his, and her fingers, caught firm in his grip, trembled.
“How would you treat a wife?” Her voice quivered. “Is there any way I can know?”
No. He tightened his hold, struggling for a better answer. “I will always treat you with the respect due a lady.”
For a moment, she stared, and then she laughed. His little hellionlaughed. He released her hand. She grabbed the edge of his lapel, freezing his turn. This touch, this voluntary touch, sent pinwheels of spinning chaos through his mind.
“I did not mean to cause offense.” Her eyes smiled. “I only wondered if your ‘respect due a lady’ would look similar to my ‘respect due a marquess.’”
He softened. “Would I feed you, do you mean?”
“Yes.” She laughed again. “Not to mention, let me sleep.”
