So she’d planned her approach, right down to practicing what she’d say and in what tone. Rallying rationales was no problem at all. This plan made perfect sense—the most sense anything had made to her in a very long time.
But she acknowledged the need for a contingency plan. That one was good too, but bittersweet.
The lights in the cottage were on. That was good. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to wake him and perhaps put him in a sour mood because of it.
“I know what I want,” she practiced under her breath as she reached up to knock on the door. “I have a plan that will fix everything.”
“Lucy.”
That was her name, and yet she’d forgotten for a moment, because James stood in front of her only half-clothed. He was quite gloriously made. She’d imagined, of course, but even her imaginings hadn’t beenthis.
A fire crackled in the hearth and provided most of the light. The golden glow of it outlined broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms, throwing into shadow an equally muscled chest with a patch of dark hair that disappeared very intriguingly into his waistline.
He turned, and his back was the most exquisite landscape of muscles. This was what chiaroscurohad been made for, those dips and shadows, mounds and hard edges.
She’d felt his strength when he caught her on the platform, held her on the train, and let her straddle him in the carriage, but she’d never seen a man’s body like this. Never imagined the sharp edge of muscles could be so appealing, so much that she wanted to touch him.
Well, she always wanted to touch him. Clothed or unclothed.
Then she realized he’d turned to collect his shirt and pull it on before turning back to her. She bit back her disappointment. If all went well this evening, they’d have no cause for being hesitant about seeing each other unclothed ever again.
“I should send you back,” he told her gruffly but with a yearning in his eyes that told her he wouldn’t.
“I won’t go, even if you try.”
He reached for her then, his broad fingers stroking the edge of her cheek and jaw. “No, of course you won’t. I can see you have something to say, so you’d better come in.”
She smelled liquor before she noted the two glasses.
“Blackwood came by.” He lifted a bottle and held it up for her to see. “Did you know he owns a whiskey distillery? Apparently, a quite successful one.”
“It was good of him to visit after my aunt insisted you remove to the cottage. I’m sorry about that.”
“I half expected her to put me out completely. The house may be mine by law, but it’s hers in every other way.”
Lucy untied her cloak and placed it over an armchair. James’s reaction was exactly what she’d hoped.
“Mercy,” he breathed and then stepped closer as if he couldn’t hold himself back. “You look—”
“Beautiful?”
“Beautiful is a given. But the color and the—” He sketched his hand in the air. “You are stunning, Lucy.” He seemed almost afraid to touch her.
The lavender satin gown had been the talk of the Hallston household when the modiste had delivered it for Lucy. The neckline was daring in front but absolutely plunging in back. Lucy had never worn it and had begun to wonder if she’d ever have occasion to.
“Good,” she said quietly. “I want you to remember this evening.”
He swallowed hard then, and it made her body feel warmer, wanton. There was no doubt they wanted each other with an equal ardor.
But first, her plan.
“May we sit?”
“Yes, of course.” He led her to an overstuffed chair, his hand on her back where the fabric ended. Once there, he seemed loath to let her go and swept his thumb up her bare lower back before doing so.
“Would you like some whiskey?”
“Yes.” She’d never had any liquor stronger thanwine at supper. But her mouth was suddenly watering, and a sip might bolster her for what she was going to ask of him next.
