He quickly folded the letter he’d been reading and tucked it into his boot. Then, shaking his head, he rose and hurried toward her. “What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He easily hoisted himself onto the wall, and then reached down and carefully hauled her up beside him.
She let out a soft breath, her face pink and her hair a little disheveled from her exertion. “The obvious answer is that I was trying to scale the wall. It’s much higher than I realized.”
He jumped back down, and then took her by the waist and gently set her down so that she was standing on the soft grass beside him along the bank of the stream. They could no longer be seen from the house, and he meant to take full advantage. “The obvious answer? Is there more than one?”
She nodded. “I was worried about you.”
A light breeze wafted through her dark curls, mussing them so that a few slipped out of their pins and whipped against her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled a soft, crystal blue, as they always did when looking at him. “So was I,” he admitted.
She glanced toward the stream, staring a long moment at its sweeping current and the little caps of white foam formed by the wind and underwater rocks. “You were thinking of James.”
“You don’t pull your punches, do you?” He sounded angrier than intended. After all, he’d been the one to bull his way out of the lodge without a word and leave them all wondering what had just happened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound resentful. I was the one who acted rudely.”
She slipped her hand in his. “Farthingales have thick skins. We rarely take offense.”
He traced a finger along the line of her jaw, and then placed his hand to the back of her neck and drew her in for a long, lingering kiss. “No, your skin’s quite soft. Delicate. I ought to know, for I’ve studied it thoroughly.”
She smiled a soft, Dillie smile that warmed his soul. “Thoroughly? You’ve only just begun to know me. I believe you’ll require a lot more study before you can make any assertions, Your Grace. A lot more study.”
“I quite agree.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her again, pressing his mouth against her sweet, welcoming lips, loving the way she accepted him, drew him in, responded to his touch. She eased his soul. A moment ago he’d been staring at the stream, thinking of the day James had died, thinking of the two of them sinking under that icy water and no longer able to breathe.
Those dark thoughts faded whenever he was with Dillie. The darkness that shrouded his heart was no match for the girl. Her smile alone could kick the hell out it.
As he continued to kiss her—Lord, she felt so good—he heard the whoosh of water flowing with the current. It’s just a stream meandering through the countryside, not a child’s watery grave.
He felt a light breeze dancing across his body and the warmth of the sun upon his shoulders. He caught the scent of grass and water and the peach scent of Dillie’s skin. I want this. I want Dillie. James, forgive me.
But he no longer needed his brother’s forgiveness if the words in the letter he’d just read were true. He didn’t dare believe it, didn’t know what to make of it.
“Oh, dear,” Dillie whispered against his lips. “We’re not even married yet and you’ve already lost interest in my kisses.” She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but he could see that she was concerned about him. Surely, she had no doubts about their impending marriage, even though he was an ass and unable as yet to express his feelings for her.
“That will never happen.” He drew her up against him, taking her into his arms and holding her so that their bodies were practically molded into one. Then he kissed her again, his lips taking hers, plundering and conquering, hot and unrestrained, holding nothing back. He wanted her to feel the heat of his desire and know it would never fade. Not now. Not years from now when they were old and gray. Not ever, for it seemed as though Dillie had been made for him, as though someone had reached into his heart and created the perfect girl, the only one who could ever make him happy.
Had James done it? Had he purposely thrown him and Dillie together that night in Lady Eloise’s lilac-scented garden?
He eased away to stare at her. “You sneeze when you eat sardines. You can face down an army of villains, yet you’re easily rattled when out in society.”
“I am not.” She let out an adorable, breathy eep when he began to trace his finger along her throat.
“You eep whenever you’re ruffled, usually when I’m near. You blush whenever I touch you, turning bright red from the tips of your ears to the tip of your nose. You’re blushing right now.”