"Not necessarily. Ashmole, the cantankerous footman, didn't get ill. He's now my butler."
She liked that. Her expression eased the clamp that always settled on his heart if he thought about his brother. Or his mother. Or the country estate where he grew up. "That's why you never go to the castle that my mother talked of." He grimaced. "We closed off that wing, but even my mother stopped going home
after a time. We lived with it."
Surely you will go home someday?" It's falling apart." The castle?"
I'll let every stone in Castle Cary fall to the ground before I enter that place again."
I can understand that," she said after a time. She had gone back to dabbling in the stream, flicking water onto the rocks opposite.
He didn't want to think about his brother anymore, or the castle. Everything he wanted sat opposite him, flicking water and humming under her breath. Her lashes curled in the sunlight and the bodice of her gown strained a little over her breasts. He guessed it had been originally made for her sister.
He'd never wanted anyone like this in his life, not with this ravening hunger, the kind that made him tell her secrets he had told no one, that threatened to bring him to his knees...though now that he thought of it, his knees would be a very good place to be, given the part of her body that position would make available to him.
"Villiers," Eleanor said, "what do you think I drew this time?"
"Leopold," he corrected her. He peered at the patch of wet she'd traced on the rock next to her.
"Why did you paint a pizzle on that rock?" he inquired, pulling off his stockings at last.
"It's not a pizzle!" she said, giggling. Her laughter ran along his skin and raised the hair on the back of his neck.
He put his feet down into the little puddle she'd chosen. They were huge next to hers, and they both stared for a moment. Then he moved in one smooth motion to her rock.
"What are you doing?" she gasped, just like the heroine in a bad play.
"I could ask the same of you," he said.
"Why?"
"Good point. Why ask? You're seducing me, and I don't care why." He looked down at her wide eyes. She'd forgotten to put on the black makeup this morning. He wouldn't want to tell her, but she looked even better without it. Eyes like hers didn't need cosmetics.
"I am not!" she said, but he could tell her heart wasn't in the protest.
"I'm not married," he said, pulling her to her feet and pushing her gently back onto the large, gratifyingly flat rock that stood at her back. "Neither are you. You can hardly have made serious vows to Master Gideon, since he informed everyone in the drawing room last night that he fully intends to mourn his wife for the next year. Apparently he feels you will simply wait for him."
"He didn't!" Eleanor said. But she didn't try to move away, just leaned against the rock, trapped by his arms braced on either side of her.
"Oh, yes he did," Villiers said. "Unless you managed to change his mind later?"
"Actually, I did," she said. "He's coming back to escort us to London."
Even given the urgent hunger coursing through his body, he felt that like a blow. He froze for a moment, looking down at her almond-shaped eyes, the way her bottom lip curved out, plump and full, and then shook his head. "Don't try and get out of it now, princess. It's too late." "What—" she began.
He bent his head and nipped her lip. He was going to say something else, but she sighed into his mouth and all of a sudden he could smell her, the faint perfume of jasmine and something indescribably better, more sensual. Something that took him from normal to rock hard every time he came close to her.
"Essence of Eleanor," he whispered. "If I could bottle it, I would become famous."
Her lips curved into a smile and he kissed her again. He emerged from that kiss dazed, his body on fire, heart pounding.
"I am not trying to seduce you," Eleanor stated.
All the higher parts of his brain were considering the logistics of making love in the midst of a river, and he barely understood her. You aren't?" No."
It doesn't matter because I'm seducing you. Would that be all right with you?" You're seducing me?"
Yes," he said calmly. As calmly as he could, given that he felt like a ravening animal. "Don't pick this moment to become chaste, Eleanor."
"What if I did?" she said, and there was something in her eyes, some sort of confused hurt.
He kissed her hard, the kind of kiss that stole his breath and made his fingers curl with the wish to touch her. But he didn't. "I'd seduce you anyway," he told her, honestly enough. "God, Eleanor, I've never felt this way. Ever."