After dropping his great coat, hat, and gloves onto a chair in the entryway, he slid his scarf from around his neck and gathered the center of it into his hands to press into his face. The flowery scent of her perfume had held in the wool, teasing him with her fragrance.
He inhaled again, deeper, letting the memory of her in his arms wash slowly through him. It had an eager, rousing effect on him.
Thoughts of her sparkling eyes, the wind grabbing at strands of her hair and blowing it across her soft cheeks drifted pleasantly through his mind before suddenly he remembered how still she’d become when he mentioned her husband.
His question had surprised her.
It had surprised Zane too.
There was no reason to ask about him other than it had suddenly crossed his mind she might be thinking about him when she mentioned the chocolate. Plenty of men and women added a dash of brandy in the sweet liquid. Evidently, she hadn’t been thinking of her husband. That pleased Zane, but he wondered if she always looked as if she was barely holding back tears when she spoke of him, or if it was only that Zane so unexpectedly asked about him. That couldn’t have been easy for her, yet she’d handled his surprising question well.
The tragedy of becoming a widow must have changed her to some degree. He wondered what she was like before that happened. She hadn’t been ready to talk about Mr. Feld with him. Without her doing that, he couldn’t get an idea of how deep her wounds of loss were now that time had passed. He wanted to know, even though he was very sure of one thing—it made no difference to him. It was to her credit that five years after Mr. Feld’s death, she still was moved by talking about him. That she had great respect for him was evident. That was one more thing to admire about her.
He also knew Mrs. Feld wasn’t indifferent to his touch. It was who she was today that had him caught in her unintended snare. How could he not be drawn to a lady who had stayed respectful of her husband’s memory,wanted to teach girls the beautiful art of painting, and helped nuns take care of unfortunate people?
Zane closed his eyes, letting the memory of her fill him again. His mind drifted back to their kiss and the feel and taste of her cool, enticing lips beneath his. Her hands had moved with hunger up his chest before they settled in womanly comfort around his neck. Their lingering kiss in the park had proven what he’d known since Paris and she had to believe now as well. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. So, to her question he never answered, hell, no. He didn’t want to stop being bad. He wanted to tumble her onto the bed and press—
Multiple footfalls and the familiar tapping of Uncle Hector’s cane sounded down the corridor. Zane looked up to see his uncles Syl and Hector coming toward him at a jaunty pace.
“There you are,” Uncle Sylvester called. “Finally home, I see.”
“How did it go?” Hector asked in a jovial tone as he stopped in front of Zane and leaned on his cane.
“Was she cordial?” Sylvester echoed with an enthusiasm he didn’t try to keep hidden either.
Zane blinked. “What are you—were you two waiting here for me to return?”
“Of course,” Uncle Syl replied. “You didn’t expect us to leave, did you?”
Zane’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Yes, I did.”
These two men were unbelievable. Their counsel with the family and helping him learn the affairs of his estates were appreciated. He really did need their help with those things, but sometimes they were a bit overwhelming. He didn’t need them playing the role of nursemaid.
Sylvester pressed his hands down the sides of his coat and took a proud stance. “How would we find out how your afternoon went if we’d gone home?”
“You wouldn’t,” Zane argued.
“That’s what we thought, so considered it best we stay in case there was anything we could help with.”
“Tell us all about it,” Uncle Hector encouraged.
“No,” Zane said in a rather forceful tone. “I have no intentions of sharing anything of my afternoon with Mrs. Feld with you two or anyone else.”
His uncles glanced at each other as if they were facing a grave situation they didn’t know how to handle before centering their attention back to their nephew.
“I take it that means it didn’t go well.” Hector emphasized his words with a sudden hard rap of his cane to the floor.
It went very well, Zane thought, but felt no inclination to satisfy these two ninny grumps.
“He probably didn’t watch his language as closely as he should have,” Uncle Syl offered. “Ladies don’t like to be spoken to in an ungentlemanly manner.”
“That’s difficult for most of us on occasion,” Hector supplied. “But we learn to do it.”
“I suppose it will take time,” his brother mumbled quietly as if he didn’t want Zane to hear him. “We may be expecting too much, too soon.”
“Did she at least enjoy the ride in the new curricle your uncle had built last winter?”
That caught Zane’s interest. “The earl has a new carriage?”
