would forget it, either. "I've posted guards around the garden. You'll be safe there from now on. You'll be able to enjoy your birds without fear someone may be lurking behind the walls."
She smiled with such pleasure something tightened in his chest. "Thank you, my lord. I admit I have missed it sorely."
Nick simply nodded. "The conservatory was a shambles. I am grateful for your direction in setting it aright. Let me know if there is anything you need." He rose to his feet and she did as well, but she made no move to leave. He left her standing in front of the overstuffed chair, her gown slightly wrinkled, the hem covered with dirt, looking more desirable than any woman he had ever seen.
He headed straight for the decanter of gin in his study. Tomorrow Baron St. George would be returning, along with Lord Percy and Richard Turner-Wilcox. They were bringing something "guaranteed to divert him," their message had said.
He had never been more grateful for such an occasion.
Elizabeth lay awake in her bedchamber, staring at the mauve silk canopy above her head. She was thinking of the earl, remembering his apology that afternoon. It was the last thing that she had expected.
Then again, perhaps it shouldn't have come as such a surprise. The earl took his duties seriously, she had learned, for all his rakish ways and wicked pastimes. Still, it had come as somewhat of a shock. An apology, she had reasoned, would not be forthcoming from a man who took what he wanted from a woman and never looked back.
And in truth, she didn't deserve one. After the first few startling moments, she had enjoyed the kiss. It was every bit as exciting as Nicholas himself, and as much as she knew she should regret it, she did not.
He is married , the voice of her conscience told her.
He is lonely , she argued. He has been abandoned . It was silly, she knew. A ridiculous rationale to keep her from feeling guilty, but in truth part of her believed it. Rachael Warring was no wife. The Earl of Ravenworth had no wife, nothing but a name scrolled beside his in the register of some ancient church. In the eyes of God, he was alone.
Elizabeth couldn't stop wondering what he might have been like if he had married a woman who loved him, who had stayed by his side when he needed her.
And she couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.
Elizabeth unbuttoned the top of her nightgown, suddenly overly warm. She could still feel the pressure of his tall, hard body, the movement of the muscles across his chest. Against the thin cotton fabric, her nipples peaked and her skin grew damp. It was desire, she knew. Desire for Nicholas Warring.
Elizabeth understood little of what happened between a man and a woman, but she knew desire was a part of it. In the hayloft back home in West Clandon, she had seen a couple lying naked, holding each other in a passionate embrace. She had turned away, of course, run like a deer back to the house, but she had never forgotten the rapture on their faces, or the soft sighs of pleasure that seeped from the barn.
She thought of that scene now, but the man she imagined naked wasn't one of her father's grooms. It was tall, dark Nicholas Warring. Brown-skinned and sleekly muscled, a tough man with a hard mouth that softened when he kissed. Sweet God, she wanted him. Wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. To do whatever it was a man did to a woman to make her his.
She was attracted to Nicholas Warring in a way she had never been attracted to a man before. In truth, she was afraid she was falling in love with him.
Sweet God, you must be mad, said the voice. The earl is the one man you can never have.
If only she could go home, back to her house in West Clan- don. She would be safe from this dangerous attraction she felt for the earl, safe from the riot of feelings he stirred whenever he was near. Elizabeth knew there was no going home. Not yet, not until she was safely married.
Oddly enough, a husband—her salvation from Bascomb, the home
She smiled with such pleasure something tightened in his chest. "Thank you, my lord. I admit I have missed it sorely."
Nick simply nodded. "The conservatory was a shambles. I am grateful for your direction in setting it aright. Let me know if there is anything you need." He rose to his feet and she did as well, but she made no move to leave. He left her standing in front of the overstuffed chair, her gown slightly wrinkled, the hem covered with dirt, looking more desirable than any woman he had ever seen.
He headed straight for the decanter of gin in his study. Tomorrow Baron St. George would be returning, along with Lord Percy and Richard Turner-Wilcox. They were bringing something "guaranteed to divert him," their message had said.
He had never been more grateful for such an occasion.
Elizabeth lay awake in her bedchamber, staring at the mauve silk canopy above her head. She was thinking of the earl, remembering his apology that afternoon. It was the last thing that she had expected.
Then again, perhaps it shouldn't have come as such a surprise. The earl took his duties seriously, she had learned, for all his rakish ways and wicked pastimes. Still, it had come as somewhat of a shock. An apology, she had reasoned, would not be forthcoming from a man who took what he wanted from a woman and never looked back.
And in truth, she didn't deserve one. After the first few startling moments, she had enjoyed the kiss. It was every bit as exciting as Nicholas himself, and as much as she knew she should regret it, she did not.
He is married , the voice of her conscience told her.
He is lonely , she argued. He has been abandoned . It was silly, she knew. A ridiculous rationale to keep her from feeling guilty, but in truth part of her believed it. Rachael Warring was no wife. The Earl of Ravenworth had no wife, nothing but a name scrolled beside his in the register of some ancient church. In the eyes of God, he was alone.
Elizabeth couldn't stop wondering what he might have been like if he had married a woman who loved him, who had stayed by his side when he needed her.
And she couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.
Elizabeth unbuttoned the top of her nightgown, suddenly overly warm. She could still feel the pressure of his tall, hard body, the movement of the muscles across his chest. Against the thin cotton fabric, her nipples peaked and her skin grew damp. It was desire, she knew. Desire for Nicholas Warring.
Elizabeth understood little of what happened between a man and a woman, but she knew desire was a part of it. In the hayloft back home in West Clandon, she had seen a couple lying naked, holding each other in a passionate embrace. She had turned away, of course, run like a deer back to the house, but she had never forgotten the rapture on their faces, or the soft sighs of pleasure that seeped from the barn.
She thought of that scene now, but the man she imagined naked wasn't one of her father's grooms. It was tall, dark Nicholas Warring. Brown-skinned and sleekly muscled, a tough man with a hard mouth that softened when he kissed. Sweet God, she wanted him. Wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. To do whatever it was a man did to a woman to make her his.
She was attracted to Nicholas Warring in a way she had never been attracted to a man before. In truth, she was afraid she was falling in love with him.
Sweet God, you must be mad, said the voice. The earl is the one man you can never have.
If only she could go home, back to her house in West Clan- don. She would be safe from this dangerous attraction she felt for the earl, safe from the riot of feelings he stirred whenever he was near. Elizabeth knew there was no going home. Not yet, not until she was safely married.
Oddly enough, a husband—her salvation from Bascomb, the home
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