THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Fanny rode in her family’s closed carriage, her fingers clasped in her lap, tapping her thumbs together in a steady staccato as she rolled closer to Killigarth Manor. A flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a clap of thunder rumbling in the distance,, and she drew her pelisse a bit more tightly around her.
She closed her eyes.Deep breaths...
She had never been a fan of thunderstorms, and considering that her nerves were already frayed just thinking of being around Lord Castleford again, she wasn’t sure how much more she could endure, but endure it she must — for her father.
Little did her family know that she would return home that evening and climb into the comforts of her bed — only to dream abouthimall night long, her body hot and fevered with the wicked thoughts that swirled in her mind.
She collapsed back against the squabs of the carriage seat. Why, ohwhy, did Lord Castleford have to come to this deserted part of England and disrupt her entire life? She had been perfectly content before he arrived. She had a daily routine and things moved along smoothly, according to plan. She enjoyed tending to her garden and going to the market. One day she thought she might even marry a nice boy from the village, although no one had struck her fancy as yet.
A man like Lord Castleford was unpredictable. He was a thief in the night, the sort who would seduce her virtue from beneath her, and then hie off to London without so much as a farewell.
Fanny squared her shoulders. No matter what enticing things Lord Castleford made her feel inside, how much she might wish to explore these urges further — shemustresist. If he damaged her reputation, it could ruin her entire family. If her sisters failed to make a suitable match because of her, then that was unacceptable. She wouldn’t doom them to a life of spinsterhood simply because she was curiously wanton about Lord Castleford.
With her mind firmly set her on her course, Fanny stepped down from the carriage when it came to a stop.
But the instant she glanced up, her carefully laid plans — along with her wits — promptly scattered like leaves in the wind.
Lord Castleford appeared from around the side of the manor. He was clad in black boots and a pair of rather snug-fitting black trousers...but as Fanny’s gaze traveled upward, she found her focus halting on the shocking glimpse of broad chest with its smattering of black hair, visible between the expanse of his white, cambric shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the sinewy muscles in his forearms caused Fanny’s mouth to go dry.
As he lifted his arm and wiped the sweat from his brow, he noticed her standing there. The grin he abruptly unleashed weakened her knees. “Is it that time already?”
“I... it...” she stammered. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes.” She sounded like a ninny headed idiot. He was only amanafter all. It wasn’t as if there weren’t an abundance of the opposite sex in the village.
Then again, none of them looked quite likethat.
“Should I... come back tomorrow?” She started to turn back toward the carriage, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
He waved a hand. “You’re already here. I’d hate for you to waste a trip. I’ll just get cleaned up and meet you in the ballroom in say, twenty minutes?”
He started to leave.
“What were you doing anyway?” She cursed the words the moment they left her mouth. It was none of her business, yet curiosity had always been one of her weaknesses.
He turned back to her, a strand of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Would you like to see?”
She lifted a brow and asked, “Do I want to?”
His husky laugh rumbled through the space between them as he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Since you tend a garden of your own, I should think you could appreciate my recent endeavors. And honestly, I’d like to have another opinion besides that of Lady Marwood, who nearly waxes poetic over my efforts.”
His hand was warm and a bit calloused as he led her toward the back of the manor. She imagined that a man like him would have been used to a leisurely sort of lifestyle, someone who gambled and drank at his club, whereas the most vigorous thing he did was pursue a coquettish light skirt.
But as he stopped before a partially overgrown rose garden, Fanny had to retract her previous thought. While most of the area was still covered in dead vines and bushes from the winter season, the other half was starting to burst with colorful, healthy blooms, the air fragrant with the scent of fresh dirt and new life.
Her mouth opened and closed several times before she turned to him in astonishment. “You did this?” she breathed.
He was leaning against an arbor near the entrance to the garden, his arms crossed. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said with a snort. “I’m not a stranger to hard labor. I have toiled in the dirt as much as you have, I imagine.”
Heat swept over Fanny’s face, but she covered her blunder by reaching out to touch the delicate petal of a nearby white rose. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “What made you decide to take on such a daunting task?”
She turned back around to see him shrug. “Why not? Elliot’s gardener is nursing a case of the gout, so I offered to lend a hand. And it’s a way to repay Elliot for his hospitality.”
“That is very kind of you,” Fanny said in all sincerity. “And I’m sure Mr. Reynolds is grateful for the help.”
He tilted his head to the side. “You know the Marwood gardener?”
“Of course,” Fanny returned, hating how prim her voice sounded. “We are a small parish. Polperro and Killigarth are neighbors. It’s only natural we should be acquainted with many of the residents.”
His green eyes were intent on her face in the silence that followed her statement. Instantly, the air around them began to crackle with the same awareness from the day before. Fanny jumped as a crack of thunder, followed by a brilliant flash of white lit up the sky. “Shall we return to the house now?”
