realized further argument
would prove pointless. Phoebe understood the consequences but had acted anyway. She possessed a generous
heart and a moral conscience, but damn it, unless coupled
with a sizeable dollop of common sense, she would repeatedly find herself in unsuitable, potentially dangerous situations. Well, he would simply make it his personal
responsibility to ensure that she exercised caution, which
veered him back to his original thought. She needed a
keeper. Him.
"Here we are." Stephen jumped to the ground and helped
Elizabeth from the carriage into a large open field. "I recommend we banish the last half-hour from our memory
and enjoy our day. Of course you, Elizabeth, can decide to
tell Winston now or later, for surely he shall hear of your
antics."
Lifting Phoebe down, he slid the length of her body
against his. He whispered in her ear. "Is all forgiven?"
"I'm not sure. And you, sir, are too bold."
Stephen's hands still gripped her arms. "Because I want
you?"
With both feet firmly planted on the ground, she cocked
her head to one side. "Wanting does not guarantee a thing,
my lord."
He glanced over his shoulder to determine Elizabeth's
whereabouts. She stood a good five feet away, her back
turned in an attempt to offer him and Phoebe a moment's
privacy that was blatant yet greatly appreciated. Grinning, he tilted Phoebe's face toward his. "Darling, I guarantee
you pleasure and more, but do not keep me waiting too
long."
"Keep you waiting? I haven't even decided to give you a
chance."
Her mouth formed a delightful pout, the kind that made
men like him appreciate all things female. Lord, he wished
the woman would agree to his terms. And soon. He
couldn't resist the temptation to stroke the delicate skin of
her throat. To his male satisfaction, he watched her eyes
flash, felt her tremble. He rubbed his thumb across her
lower lip, slowly, finally caressing her chin. "I think you
have. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
Licking the lip his touch had abandoned, she swallowed
and stepped to what she deemed a safe distance from him.
"Elizabeth invited me. Remember? And I must say, we had
a delightful and somewhat enlightening conversation."
Speculating on the subtle innuendo in Phoebe's voice,
Stephen dropped his hand to his side. He'd never expected
to keep his past concealed, but after years of censure and
gossip, and unsure of Phoebe's reaction, he automatically
felt the walls erect themselves around his pride. Why did
Phoebe's opinion even matter? Placing his left hand in his
coat pocket, his other on the wheel of the carriage, he
assumed a casual stance. "Really."
"Yes, indeed. She willingly provided facts a particular
gentleman I know deems unimportant. Minor little things
like previous marriages, gypsy curses and all."
Just as he'd suspected. Elizabeth possessed a loose
tongue when she felt her motives justified, and in her mind,
finding a wife for him was a good reason to interfere. She
knew little, but he could only guess what she had revealed.
"Elizabeth needs to learn restraint," he muttered.
Tentatively, Phoebe placed her fingers on his hand. "You can no more flee your past than I can. Nor can you predict
your future."
"But I can control my actions."
"Precisely. And, I expect honesty."
"I have not been otherwise."
"No, simply closemouthed." He clenched his teeth
moments before his expression turned flat, void of emotion. How she hated his ability to do that. Clearly, he disliked this topic. Well, that was just too bad. She had no
intention of spending time with the man if dishonesty lay
between them. "I am not accustomed to secrets and guessing games. If we're to have any relationship at all, I expect
us to be honest with one another."
Like a summer storm on the river, his mood changed
quickly and unexpectedly. His mouth softened and even
twitched with amusement as a devilish sparkle lit his eyes.
"By all means."
"Do you mind telling
would prove pointless. Phoebe understood the consequences but had acted anyway. She possessed a generous
heart and a moral conscience, but damn it, unless coupled
with a sizeable dollop of common sense, she would repeatedly find herself in unsuitable, potentially dangerous situations. Well, he would simply make it his personal
responsibility to ensure that she exercised caution, which
veered him back to his original thought. She needed a
keeper. Him.
"Here we are." Stephen jumped to the ground and helped
Elizabeth from the carriage into a large open field. "I recommend we banish the last half-hour from our memory
and enjoy our day. Of course you, Elizabeth, can decide to
tell Winston now or later, for surely he shall hear of your
antics."
Lifting Phoebe down, he slid the length of her body
against his. He whispered in her ear. "Is all forgiven?"
"I'm not sure. And you, sir, are too bold."
Stephen's hands still gripped her arms. "Because I want
you?"
With both feet firmly planted on the ground, she cocked
her head to one side. "Wanting does not guarantee a thing,
my lord."
He glanced over his shoulder to determine Elizabeth's
whereabouts. She stood a good five feet away, her back
turned in an attempt to offer him and Phoebe a moment's
privacy that was blatant yet greatly appreciated. Grinning, he tilted Phoebe's face toward his. "Darling, I guarantee
you pleasure and more, but do not keep me waiting too
long."
"Keep you waiting? I haven't even decided to give you a
chance."
Her mouth formed a delightful pout, the kind that made
men like him appreciate all things female. Lord, he wished
the woman would agree to his terms. And soon. He
couldn't resist the temptation to stroke the delicate skin of
her throat. To his male satisfaction, he watched her eyes
flash, felt her tremble. He rubbed his thumb across her
lower lip, slowly, finally caressing her chin. "I think you
have. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
Licking the lip his touch had abandoned, she swallowed
and stepped to what she deemed a safe distance from him.
"Elizabeth invited me. Remember? And I must say, we had
a delightful and somewhat enlightening conversation."
Speculating on the subtle innuendo in Phoebe's voice,
Stephen dropped his hand to his side. He'd never expected
to keep his past concealed, but after years of censure and
gossip, and unsure of Phoebe's reaction, he automatically
felt the walls erect themselves around his pride. Why did
Phoebe's opinion even matter? Placing his left hand in his
coat pocket, his other on the wheel of the carriage, he
assumed a casual stance. "Really."
"Yes, indeed. She willingly provided facts a particular
gentleman I know deems unimportant. Minor little things
like previous marriages, gypsy curses and all."
Just as he'd suspected. Elizabeth possessed a loose
tongue when she felt her motives justified, and in her mind,
finding a wife for him was a good reason to interfere. She
knew little, but he could only guess what she had revealed.
"Elizabeth needs to learn restraint," he muttered.
Tentatively, Phoebe placed her fingers on his hand. "You can no more flee your past than I can. Nor can you predict
your future."
"But I can control my actions."
"Precisely. And, I expect honesty."
"I have not been otherwise."
"No, simply closemouthed." He clenched his teeth
moments before his expression turned flat, void of emotion. How she hated his ability to do that. Clearly, he disliked this topic. Well, that was just too bad. She had no
intention of spending time with the man if dishonesty lay
between them. "I am not accustomed to secrets and guessing games. If we're to have any relationship at all, I expect
us to be honest with one another."
Like a summer storm on the river, his mood changed
quickly and unexpectedly. His mouth softened and even
twitched with amusement as a devilish sparkle lit his eyes.
"By all means."
"Do you mind telling
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