decadent sort of agonizing satisfaction.
She came toward him. “Good day, sir.”
“Good day, ma’am. How do you do this morning?”
She laid her hand on a horse’s neck and stroked, her ungloved fingers slender and comfortable upon the animal. “Considerably better. Fully recovered, in fact.” She wore a plain blue gown cinched with a ribbon beneath her breasts. The night before as he lay in the straw alone he’d spent time imagining those breasts stripped of garments. He had imagined touching her. He had told himself it provided distraction from the pull of the bottle Bates offered him earlier, which he’d declined. No more whiskey while in the company of Diantha Lucas. He didn’t trust himself.
Now her breasts were before him, albeit clothed. Still, reality proved greater than imagination. “I am glad for you, then.” He turned from her to recheck the reins.
“It’s true, I will not be experimenting with spirits again. Will we leave soon?”
“Momentarily.”
She glanced toward the stable door. “The Bateses are wonderfully kind people. It is a marvel we were so fortunate to happen upon them.” She hovered at his shoulder on the balls of her feet. “Betsy is their eldest, you know. A year older than Tom. She entered the harvest fair baking competition this year with her own entry and won. She is very proud of that accomplishment.”
He glanced at her. The slightest stain of pink covered her cheeks.
“She must be.” He moved to the rear of the carriage and took up a rope to fasten the traveling trunk in place.
She came again to his side and Wyn felt her move the air. He felt it. She was a spring breeze that with the gentlest aggression threatened to send his world spinning.
“She is fifteen. She told me she has a tendre for a boy who lives on the next farm, yet she is afraid to reveal to him her interest for fear he will scorn her.” She spoke more slowly now. “I think it is more than shyness on her part.”
“Do you?” He tightened the rope about the trunk.
“She hides her face when she can.”
Ah. Of course. “She will learn confidence in time. She is young yet,” he only said.
“I don’t think it is her age.”
“Perhaps not.”
A lengthy pause. “ Do men notice such things?”
He could not pretend he hadn’t any idea what she meant. Naïve regarding man’s baser nature or not, Diantha Lucas was much cleverer than she liked others to think.
“Yes. I am afraid most men do.”
She was silent a moment. “I knew that, of course. I mostly asked to see how you would . . .” Her voice faltered. “How you would . . .”
He turned. “How I would re—”
Her chin collided with his jaw.
They both jerked back. Her hand flew to her face. A full, rosy flush washed across her lovely features, and tension flooded Wyn precisely where he did not wish it.
Fingers over her mouth, she backed away a step. He crouched and looped the rope above the rear axle, pulling in a slow breath.
“I will not insult either of our dignities, Miss Lucas, by pretending that you did not just attempt to kiss me.” He glanced at her over his shoulder.
“I did.” She performed the usual damnably taking twist of her lips. “I should very much like to.”
He leaned his forearm onto his knee to turn to her. “Did you hear nothing I said to you yesterday afternoon?”
“I wish I had managed it more successfully.”
“Apparently not,” he answered himself, and stood.
She frowned, her features coming to life again. “Oh, why not ? The Bateses believe we are wed, and Mrs. Polley has just dropped off to sleep so she will not discover it. I am not proposing marriage to you. It would just be one kiss, and no one would know.”
“ I would know.”
“Well then you could simply forget about it right after, couldn’t you?”
“No.” Never. Dear God, she was unbearably pretty. He scanned her face aglow with mingled indignation and hope, unable not to take his fill of looking. “Do you
She came toward him. “Good day, sir.”
“Good day, ma’am. How do you do this morning?”
She laid her hand on a horse’s neck and stroked, her ungloved fingers slender and comfortable upon the animal. “Considerably better. Fully recovered, in fact.” She wore a plain blue gown cinched with a ribbon beneath her breasts. The night before as he lay in the straw alone he’d spent time imagining those breasts stripped of garments. He had imagined touching her. He had told himself it provided distraction from the pull of the bottle Bates offered him earlier, which he’d declined. No more whiskey while in the company of Diantha Lucas. He didn’t trust himself.
Now her breasts were before him, albeit clothed. Still, reality proved greater than imagination. “I am glad for you, then.” He turned from her to recheck the reins.
“It’s true, I will not be experimenting with spirits again. Will we leave soon?”
“Momentarily.”
She glanced toward the stable door. “The Bateses are wonderfully kind people. It is a marvel we were so fortunate to happen upon them.” She hovered at his shoulder on the balls of her feet. “Betsy is their eldest, you know. A year older than Tom. She entered the harvest fair baking competition this year with her own entry and won. She is very proud of that accomplishment.”
He glanced at her. The slightest stain of pink covered her cheeks.
“She must be.” He moved to the rear of the carriage and took up a rope to fasten the traveling trunk in place.
She came again to his side and Wyn felt her move the air. He felt it. She was a spring breeze that with the gentlest aggression threatened to send his world spinning.
“She is fifteen. She told me she has a tendre for a boy who lives on the next farm, yet she is afraid to reveal to him her interest for fear he will scorn her.” She spoke more slowly now. “I think it is more than shyness on her part.”
“Do you?” He tightened the rope about the trunk.
“She hides her face when she can.”
Ah. Of course. “She will learn confidence in time. She is young yet,” he only said.
“I don’t think it is her age.”
“Perhaps not.”
A lengthy pause. “ Do men notice such things?”
He could not pretend he hadn’t any idea what she meant. Naïve regarding man’s baser nature or not, Diantha Lucas was much cleverer than she liked others to think.
“Yes. I am afraid most men do.”
She was silent a moment. “I knew that, of course. I mostly asked to see how you would . . .” Her voice faltered. “How you would . . .”
He turned. “How I would re—”
Her chin collided with his jaw.
They both jerked back. Her hand flew to her face. A full, rosy flush washed across her lovely features, and tension flooded Wyn precisely where he did not wish it.
Fingers over her mouth, she backed away a step. He crouched and looped the rope above the rear axle, pulling in a slow breath.
“I will not insult either of our dignities, Miss Lucas, by pretending that you did not just attempt to kiss me.” He glanced at her over his shoulder.
“I did.” She performed the usual damnably taking twist of her lips. “I should very much like to.”
He leaned his forearm onto his knee to turn to her. “Did you hear nothing I said to you yesterday afternoon?”
“I wish I had managed it more successfully.”
“Apparently not,” he answered himself, and stood.
She frowned, her features coming to life again. “Oh, why not ? The Bateses believe we are wed, and Mrs. Polley has just dropped off to sleep so she will not discover it. I am not proposing marriage to you. It would just be one kiss, and no one would know.”
“ I would know.”
“Well then you could simply forget about it right after, couldn’t you?”
“No.” Never. Dear God, she was unbearably pretty. He scanned her face aglow with mingled indignation and hope, unable not to take his fill of looking. “Do you
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