“Young people. So passionate. Best you marry without delay,” Reverend Dewhurst said. “The banns can be read this Sunday. I believe the first of April is free for a wedding.”
“But my parish is in Digswell, Reverend,” Hetty said, embarrassment making her cheeks burn.
“That won’t be a problem if notice is sent,” the reverend answered. “Would you not prefer to be married at St. George’s?”
“We should be honored. Thank you, Reverend,” Guy said. “But I have matters to settle before I can set the day.”
“Very well. Please advise me as soon as you can.”
With the rain loud on the coach roof, Hetty tried to read Guy’s expression, aware they would reach her aunt’s home in a matter of minutes. “Have you altered your opinion of Eustace?”
“I’m beginning to understand how things stand,” Guy answered. The cool tone of his voice made her anxious. “Are you cold?” He moved across to sit beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders.
Hetty laid her head against his shoulder. “Have you learned anything more?”
“Who is behind the attacks? No.”
His voiced sounded strange, tight, unlike himself. “But you don’t think it is Eustace, do you?”
“I don’t know yet, Hetty.” He sounded impatient. Was there something he wasn’t telling her?
“You would tell me if there was another attempt?”
He sighed. “There hasn’t been. Eustace approves of our marriage. Perhaps there won’t be another.”
“Then shall we end this engagement? Everything is becoming too complicated.” She sagged as bitter disappointment took hold. It had cost her a lot to say it.
His arm tightened around her. “I’m aware of how difficult this is. Can you be patient for a little while?”
Hetty nodded. She’d never been so far out of her depth before. She appealed to him with her eyes, wanting to know how he felt.
As if in answer to her unspoken question, Guy tapped on the roof with his cane. The panel in the roof slid back. “Yes, my lord?”
“Drive through the park.”
Guy closed the blinds as the carriage turned into Tyburn Lane and rolled on toward Hyde Park Corner. He pulled Hetty onto his lap. Cradled in his arms, she leaned against his hard, heated body.
He took her chin in his hand. “Hetty,” he murmured against her lips. When his mouth sought hers, demanding a response, she could only obey as her thoughts fled. He drew away and untied her cloak, sliding it off her shoulders, and bent to kiss the hollow at the base of her throat. “You smell so sweet, my love,” he said, “like a flower garden.” His voice was muffled against her skin. She was filled with an odd kind of yearning. She stroked his thick hair, finding it silky to the touch.
Guy undid the hooks on her bodice. When he pulled it down to reveal her chemise and stays, she grabbed his hand as confusion filled her. She wanted to encourage him and stop him both at once.
He paused, his intense gaze searching hers. “If you want me to take you straight home, just say so, Hetty.”
He looked different, dangerous, potent, which both thrilled and disturbed her. Her breath quickened, lifting her bosom as he slid the straps of her chemise further down her shoulders. She stilled, as he bent to kiss the rise of her breast. He traced a line down her throat, his fingers lightly calloused, not the pampered hands of a lord. A cautionary voice entered her mind. She knew so little about him. “Where were you before you came to England?”
He straightened and sighed.
*
“I will tellyou, but not now, Hetty.” Hetty’s hair was a halo of rich color in the dim light from the carriage lamps. Heat pooled in his groin, and his determination not to give in to desire, wavered. He could stop. He would. But not yet. Not until he’d tasted her, he would have that at least if his life was to end soon by the hand of an assassin or at the end of a rope. He took a curl and raised it to breathe in the floral fragrance while longing to loosen her tresses from their pins, to slide over her naked shoulders. He trailed a finger down the smooth column of her neck to a brown areola peeping from the top of her corset. He freed her breast and bent to kiss it. This time Hetty didn’t stop him. She pulled him to her.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” she whispered.
*
Hetty breathed inhis clean musky scent and ran her tongue over her lips. Ripples of sensation rushed over her skin as he took a nipple in his mouth. “Guy…” She went limp as threads of fire traced their way to throb low in her stomach. He turned his attention to the other taut, sensitive nipple. She inhaled sharply when he eased her skirt up, his fingers stroking her bare skin above her stocking.
“So soft,” he murmured, a low sound deep in his throat.
