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He spotted one lurking behind a bush and dashed to pluck it up, his hold slipping twice before he finally managed it. The piglet must have been hungry, for she darted for her mother the moment he deposited her in the pen.

They would not all be so easy, and Benj knew it well.

Three piglets later, Benj found himself wondering how in the world he could manage eight more piglets on his own. There was no telling how long they had been out, or how far they had gone, or how long it would take to bring them all back in. But one thing was certain: There was no possibility of him completing this task before Martha arrived.

And that was a travesty.

“This is an interesting manner of attire.”

Her voice warmed his heart yet froze his limbs at the same time. Benj sighed as she rode over, looking stunning in a rich green redingote over ivy-embroidered cotton. Her eyes had never been so luminous, he was certain, and this was broad daylight.

He wanted nothing more than to stare into those eyes for quiet conversation and a dash of carefully placed flirtation.

His lack of response brought a slow rise of her brows beneath her hat. “The dirt? Hoofprint? Benj, you look trampled.”

It wasn’t often that he was taken aback, but her use of his name arrested him, sent him reeling into a warm abyss that he only just resisted succumbing to by the feel of the cool, hard ground beneath his feet.

“The piglets escaped,” he explained, when his ears ceased their ringing. “I’ve brought in four, but I must find the rest. I am so sorry, Martha.”

If she used his given name without hesitation, he was not about to be reluctant in using hers.

“What for?” she asked him, sliding her crop into an elegant satchel on the saddle. “They are not my pigs, I was not about to scold you for it.” She waved him over to help her down.

Benj went, frowning up at her in confusion. “No, I was apologizing because it will keep us from our plans today.”

Martha brushed a dismissive hand in the air before placing both hands on his shoulders. “Plans change all the time, Benj. No matter. We’ll gather the piglets and see what time is left when we are done.”

His hands had gone to her waist as she spoke, and lifted before she’d finished, but he froze as he set her on the ground, gaping at her in shock. “We? You’re going to help me retrieve them?”

“Of course,” she replied, as though the answer was obvious, her eyes searching his. “What else would I do?”

What else would she do, indeed. Her hands were at his shoulders, his still at her waist, and what he hoped she would do was kiss him soundly when he would inevitably kiss her first, but he was too stunned for that.

The reflex to kiss her had yet to be built up in him, but the impulse was there.

She patted his shoulders fondly and her hands moved to her hat, unpinning it easily. “I don’t suppose this will do me any good, will it?” She laughed and pulled from his hold, setting the hat on the ground and removing the redingote with deft motions, folding the garment before setting it beside her hat.

Benj watched her, still unable to move. She was truly the most remarkable woman he had ever known, and he was in desperate need of stronger adjectives.

“Will you set the hobbles?” Martha asked, nudging her head at the horse. “I don’t fancy tracking down the horse after we’ve managed the piglets.”

“Of course,” Benj finally replied, the words somehow dry in his mouth. He absently moved to do so, his eyes flicking back to her at regular intervals just to be sure he wasn’t imagining this fine woman preparing to gather up dirty, squirming piglets.

She gave no indication she was having any second thoughts or doubts whatsoever.

“Now, then,” she said when the horse was secure, “where have you already been?”

Benj grinned at her for no particular reason, only that she was here and entirely herself, and quickly relayed where the first four piglets had been. The pair of them devised a plan for scouting out the rest and started out, deciding to stay together rather than divide up, for their own safety as well as increasing the likelihood of spotting the piglets more speedily.

Martha’s eyes proved to not only be beautiful, but sharp.

“There!” she called when they’d been walking a few minutes, pointing two fingers toward some puddles lingering from the recent rainfall.

Benj saw the two piglets and nodded. “Right, now carefully make your way around the puddle …”

Martha gave him a hard look. “Really, Benj, I’ve spent my entire life chasing my mother’s infernal pugs around our house in London. This cannot be so different.”

He bit back a laugh and shrugged. “I mean no offense, nor do I intend to be patronizing. But pigs are …”