At his prolonged silence and frankly rude staring, she gave a small sigh and walked out of the water. She bent over to pick up something from the ground, and his knees almost gave way at the view of her magnificent bottom through the translucent shift. Then she swirled a blue dressing gown around herself, and his brain finally lurched into order again. Belatedly, he turned, until he could just barely see her from the corner of his eye.
“You live nearby,” he said.
“Oh dear.” She sighed in chagrin. “Let’s not make this more awkward than it already is, sir.”
“No need for awkwardness.” It was hard to form a thought. He kept thinking of her breasts. And her hips. And the way she had once rolled him over and ridden him until he thought he would die of the pleasure of it. He dared a peek over his shoulder just as she knotted the sash of her dressing gown.
“No?” She arched one dark brow as she put on her shoes. “You look stunned speechless, I’m afraid. I do apologize again.”
“It was my fault,” he managed to say. “I did not expect anyone here. When I heard splashing, I thought it must be a boy shirking his chores?—”
She looked at him, still wearing that contrite expression. “Very reasonable. I succumbed to temptation—the heat, the sun... Alas.” Another wry smile. “It shan’t happen again, sir. You have my word.”
“Wait,” he said, scrambling for sense. She turned away and started toward the trees. “Evangeline!”
She flinched, glancing back in shock.
He reined himself in. He was behaving like a madman; no wonder she was alarmed. He put back his shoulders and gave a brief bow. “Forgive me, Lady Courtenay.”
Then, finally, recognition flared in her face. For a moment she stared, her eyes wide, and then she gasped, sayingsomething under her breath that he didn’t catch, before turning and hurrying into the trees, lost to his sight within minutes.
Richard reached out and gripped a nearby sapling until the bark bit into his palm. Blessed Mother of God. He was dazzled, shocked, and aroused in equal measure. Hercule nudged his other hand and he almost leapt out of his skin.
“Right,” he said, realizing he was breathing hard. “Come, Hercule. We must return to the house.”
He had only somewhat recovered by the time the house came into view. Gerhard was waiting in the garden, arms folded impatiently.
“Where have you been? Mrs. Murray became fatigued in the heat.”
“What?” Richard shook his head. “Where is she now?”
“Inside.” Gerhard followed as he strode back into the house. “You took forever. She is resigned that you will reject it. I told her you do not like this place, and perhaps that is rational. It is small and dark and unappealing. But she is trying to please you. Be gentle when you tell her. You may not care about her hopes and feelings, but I do.”
“Be quiet, Gerhard.” Richard opened the door of the small, ugly morning room.
Clemency’s head popped up from the wingback chair she was sitting in, a fan clutched in her hand. “There you are!”
“Are you well, Clem?” Distracted, he nodded at her, then walked out of the room, looked around the hall, then went back into the sitting room. “Where is the estate agent?”
“Here, sir.” Mr. Fields hustled in behind him, flushed. Gerhard must have fetched him, for his friend was close at the man’s heels.
“Good.” Richard put out his hand, and instinctively the agent clasped it. “I’m taking this house. Send the lease at once.”
Chapter 7
Evangeline had never been particularly demure or modest, but walking out of the pond nearly naked in front of a strange man was a new experience, even for her.
She gave herself a firm scolding as she hurried home. She ought not to have gone to the pond in the first place. It was not on her property, and she could have no idea who might be wandering the grounds.
She ought to have paid more attention to her surroundings as she swam, instead of floating lazily along, reveling in the supposed solitude and cool water.
She ought to have worn a proper bathing costume instead of stripping down to her shift.
She ought to have remembered a comb. Her hair was sure to be a nightmare by the time she reached home.
She sighed. She ought to have recognized that man at once and drowned herself in the deep end of the pond.
What a pity he had to recognizeher. Surely he’d seen sights far more memorable in the four years since that one night. She was astonished that he remembered her name—and just as astonished by the thrill that pulsed inside her when he said it.Evangeline. Rough and desperate with longing, the way itsounded in her mind when she allowed herself to think of her wild night of sin, when she’d seduced the famous explorer.
