Christ, but he was going to suffer tonight.
“Let me help you!” she offered and extended her hand in aid.
He waved her away, clearing his throat. “In an instant, Jessie. I’m just a wee bit... stiff at the moment.” He peered up at her, gauging her expression, and smiled grimly when she clearly didn’t understand his meaning. “The fall,” he suggested.
“But you’re not hurt?” she asked, her tone filled with concern.
Enormously relieved that she’d not understood his lecherous jest, he said, “I assure you,m’msellethat I shall live.”
To his great misfortune.
At her doubtful expression, he rose as proof. “See.” He grinned then, seizing her by the chin, and raising her face to place a perfectly chaste kiss upon the bridge of her nose. He turned her about so that she couldn’t spy his brick hard arousal.
She seemed reassured, though even as she turned to smile up at him, the first raindrops struck her full in the face. She mopped them away with a sleeve, and laughed softly. “I do believe it’s going to rain, my lord,” she told him, her humor restored. “I commend your unerring nose.” She bolted toward the gate. “Follow me!”
He didn’t dare.
He waited until she was out of the gate, racing toward the shelter of the house before bothering to move. And then reluctantly, he scaled the fence and seizing his reins, he mounted his horse.
Realizing at last that he wasn’t following her, she halted abruptly, whirling about.
“Don’t stop!” he shouted. “Get yourself home, lest you be caught in the downpour!”
She stood, nevertheless, rain soaking her to the bone, reluctant to leave him, sheltering her face with her hand. Instinctively he understood why, and it warmed his heart.
“I’ll call again tomorrow,” he swore, and then added, “I promise!”
She smiled beautifully.
Wheeling his mount about, he cast her a backward glance. She was still watching, despite that it was raining harder now, and he pivoted his mount to face her. His steed pranced impatiently, eager to leave.
He advanced upon her suddenly, and said impulsively, “Meet me by the brook... noon tomorrow?”
Her brow furrowed. “I... I don’t know…”
“Noon,” he said again, and prayed she’d refuse him.
She nodded and he smiled down at her, giving her a final salutory wink.
“Till then, my love,” he said, and turned to leave before she could rethink the wisdom of what she’d agreed to.
Before his damnable conscience could interfere yet again. With all his heart and soul, he wanted Jessie.
8
True to his word, Christian materialized by the brook precisely at noon—equipped for a picnic. Jessie was delighted that he’d taken the time to consider so much, and she chided herself for worrying over naught.
Once again they whiled away the hours conversing, and she sighed contentedly as she listened to him. He was so wonderful, so very wonderful—magnificently handsome, too.
Languishing in the heat of the day, he’d removed his frock coat. It lay forgotten now upon the grass. His crisp white shirt, with its perfect pristine ruffles and folds, he wore recklessly unbuttoned at the neckline, long having discarded the stock. Jessie found herself staring at him more oft than not, powerless to dispel from her mind the memory of his kiss; it kindled a strange warmth within her every time she thought of it.
Plucking a small yellow blossom, she peered up -at him through her lashes, praying he couldn’t discern the wickedness of her thoughts. She twirled the bloom between her fingertips, wondering how long it would be before he would try to kiss her again.
Would he?
Did she wish him to?
Her cheeks burned as she acknowledged the truth, impossible as it was to deny. She’d broken the rules of propriety by coming alone to this secluded place without a chaperon. Why else would she have done so, but in hopes that he would... if only once more? She cast him another surreptitious glance, and her heart fluttered wildly.
