But when the door of the manor opened, revealing Hal in his shirtsleeves, staring at her on his doorstep as though she’d taken leave of her senses, Gemma knew what she was doing there.And she didn’t question it.
Instead, she threw her wet, dripping arms around Hal’s shoulders and hauled him down for a deep, scorching kiss.
ChapterEighteen
They’d brought the hay in just in time, before the expected April showers arrived to turn the fields to bogs and rot the stalks.Hal had planned to spend the day helping one of the tenant farmers deliver the lambs from his pregnant ewes, but they’d all come at once, in the middle of the night, the little buggers, so Hal found himself out of work for the day.
Torrential rain halted many of the farm projects he routinely helped with on his lands; no one was building or thatching or sowing or reaping on a day like today.His tenants were likely snug in their cottages, working on repairs to machinery or clothing, the endless round of work and chores that kept life going on a small farm.
In his holland-cover-draped manor house, Hal sat alone by the fire and brooded until he was so sick of himself, he decided to brave the rain and pay a call on Bess.
Only to pass the time, he told himself.He wouldn’t venture past the kitchen, and he certainly wouldn’t seek Gemma out.
But when he’d glanced out a window to gauge exactly how soaked he was about to get, he’d seen a feminine form marching determinedly up the drive toward his house.A petite, sweetly curved feminine form he would know instantly, anywhere, in the dark and the light and in any kind of weather.
He’d rushed to throw open the front door and berate her for doing exactly what he’d been about to do, go out walking in the rain, but before he could…she was in his arms.
She should’ve been a cold, damp, clammy bundle but all Hal could feel was the blazing warmth of her nearness, the heat of her lips seeking his.And the mind-shattering relief of having her close for the first time in days.
Gemma pressed herself to him, soaking his front with her wet garments, and Hal gathered her up like a greedy dragon hoarding his gold.All he wanted was more.
Until a shiver wracked her frame.Hal tore his mouth away from hers.
“You little fool,” he said, entirely unable to help the tenderness in his voice.“You need to get out of those wet clothes or you’ll catch your death.”
Looking around the entry way, Gemma shivered again as she drew away from him slightly.“I don’t think being without clothing in here will help.How does it stay so chilly in this house when it’s been so warm outside?”
“Ghostly remnants of the cold hearts of the owners, I expect,” Hal said lightly, then added, “And I only light the fire in the kitchen.Come, let’s get you warm.”
He led her through the empty hallways around to the back of the house where the kitchen sat, cozy and bright and welcoming.It had always been his favorite room in this old place.
They didn’t converse along the way.In Hal’s case, because he was trying to calm his raging blood and settle his lust before he shoved her up against a wall and had her, threat of pneumonia be damned.And in Gemma’s, he presumed, because her teeth were chattering too vigorously to allow conversation.
As Hal’s ardor flickered down to a banked fire, his mind cleared and he was able to think again.
About the fact that she was here, and what that might mean.As well as the fact that he’d promised to stay away from her.
This sudden appearance of hers, complete with passionate kisses, was doing no favors to his ongoing attempts to reconcile himself to letting her go.
Let her go.What a joke.She was going.He had no choice in the matter.The best he could do would be to make that parting as simple and free of recrimination as possible, because she had done nothing wrong.She had been honest from the start about who she was and what she wanted.
While he…Hal locked it down.
This wasn’t about him.Gemma was here.She needed him.
By the time he’d installed her in the chair nearest the grate and stoked the fire until it blazed as cheerfully as if it were snowing outside, Hal had himself mostly under control.
He made a fuss of draping her with a voluminous quilt and turning his back so that she could disrobe under it.Made himself useful by putting the kettle on and gathering the tea things.Resolutely did not imagine what was happening behind him, only a few feet away, close enough to hear the whisper of fine fabric over soft skin.
Hal cleared his throat.“What brings you here, your ladyship?In the midst of a deluge, no less.”
“The earl has asked me to marry him.”
Hal’s hands paused in the act of pouring the tea.He set the pot down as carefully as he could.It took an effort of will to uncurl his fingers from the handle.“My felicitations.I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
“Happiness.”The word sounded choked, almost like a sob, and Hal couldn’t resist any longer.He turned to face her.
Gemma stood before the grate clad in nothing but firelight, her wet gown and underthings discarded upon the chair.Her wavy hair, inky black with damp, had come loose from its moorings and trailed over one shoulder to cascade over her breast, the ends curling over the dusky pink tip.
