Love and the Single Heiress

Chapter 15

As men tend to be forgetful creatures, Today's Modern Woman needs to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts. The most effective way to do this is to say or do something deliciously naughty-very discreetly, so only he is aware of it. If a man believes there is a sexual encounter in his imminent future, his attention will not wander far.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Andrew prepared to exit his bedchamber the next morning, one thing uppermost in his mind: Catherine.

After a final lingering kiss, he’d reluctantly left her at her bedchamber door four hours ago. Actually four hours and eleven minutes ago, not that he was counting.

Very well, he was counting. And those four hours and eleven minutes had felt like four years. He needed to touch her. Kiss her. Hold her against him to reaffirm me miracle of last night. Making love to her had been a revelation. In his dreams, he’d touched her, loved her, countless times, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of her beneath him, looking up at him, her eyes glazed with need. His body joining with hers as he wordlessly expressed all the feelings he’d kept locked away for so long. All the things he couldn’t say-yet.

He exited his bedchamber and strode down the corridor, impatience pulling at him. When he looked into her eyes this morning would he see all the magic they’d shared together reflected there? The desire to experience more of the same? Or would she have spent the last four hours and now twelve minutes deciding that last night was enough?

His lips pressed together. If she’d somehow decided that it was enough, he’d just damn well have to change her mind. She was his. And he intended to have her.

When he rounded the corner, he spied Milton nearing the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Stanton,” the butler said in his precise tones, “I was just coming to your room. This arrived for you.” He held out a silver salver bearing a sealed note.

Andrew took the missive. His stomach tensed when he noted his name scrawled in Simon Wentworth’s cramped handwriting. Damn. He doubted his and Philip’s steward would be writing to impart good news. “Did the messenger say anything?”

“Only that the note was for you and that he did not require a reply. He’s already departed.”

“I see. Are Lady Catherine and Spencer about?”

“Master Spencer is on his way to take the waters. Lady Catherine requested a meal in her bedchamber. Breakfast is laid out in the dining room, sir.”

“Thank you. I need to read this correspondence first. I’ll be down shortly.”

Milton inclined his head, then headed back down the stairs, and Andrew returned to his bedchamber. After closing the door behind him, he broke the wax seal and quickly scanned the words.

Mr. Stanton,

I am writing to inform you that someone entered the museum last night, and I’m sorry to report that considerable damage was done. The magistrate believes that when the thief-or thieves-realized there were no artifacts yet housed in the museum, he became enraged and inflicted as much damage as he could. An ax was taken to the floor and walls, and every single one of the newly installed windows was broken. The magistrate doesn’t hold much hope that the scoundrel will be caught unless a witness comes forward with information. I’ll set the workmen up to repair the damages-no need for you to worry on that score, but I don’t have the experience to handle the investors, and I’m afraid their reactions are already not favorable. Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly were making inquiries, as well as Mrs. Warrenfield and a Mr. Carmichael. Therefore, I think it might be best if you returned to London as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, I will see about hiring on more workers. Per your instructions before you left London, I have not written to Lord Greybourne to inform him of anything regarding the museum.

Sincerely,

Simon Wentworth

Andrew blew out a long breath and raked his hand through his hair. In his mind’s eye he pictured the museum’s polished parquet flooring and richly paneled walls. And all those beautiful pane-glassed windows… Damn it to hell and back! All that work, destroyed. It made him sick inside. As did the thought of leaving Catherine, especially now. But he had no choice. And he had to tell her.

Slipping the note into his waistcoat pocket, he quietly departed his room.

Her skin still tingling from a warm bath, Catherine looked out her bedchamber window at the sun’s gentle morning glow reflecting silver off the dew-laden grass. Her gaze drifted toward the garden… toward the path that she and Andrew had followed last night.

Her eyes drifted closed. Vivid images flashed through her mind of how they’d spent the hours until just before dawn… intimately exploring each other’s bodies. Sharing the wine, bread, and cheese. Andrew feeding her strawberries. Laughing. Touching. Making love again, slowly, savoring every touch. Every look. Every kiss. Every stroke of his body deep inside hers.

For all the times she’d imagined being with a lover, for all the curiosity the Guide had planted in her mind, she’d never, not once, envisioned anything like last night. She’d always believed that one’s imagination could conjure up scenarios reality could never match.

She’d been horribly mistaken in that belief.

Imagination could not experience the wonder of Andrew’s lips and hands worshiping her, burning away everything, every thought, except him. The feel of her breasts crushed against his warm, naked chest. The musky scent of their lovemaking surrounding them in the gazebo’s golden-lit, still air. The texture of his firm skin beneath her fingertips. And the sight of him…

A long, feminine sigh escaped her. Dear God, the sight of him, his strong, muscular body glistening in the flickering light, fully aroused. For her. By her. His eyes black with want. Hot with desire. Filled with a fierceness at complete odds with his gentle touch. His absorbed expression as he aroused her beyond bearing. Then the sensual, sated languor glowing in those eyes in the aftermath of their passion. His quick grin. His lovely smile. Yet behind his humor the heart-quickening heat simmering just below his surface.

Unfortunately, she suspected she was feeling more than simply heart-quickening heat for Andrew. And that was unacceptable. Disquieting. And most of all, frightening.

She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow herself to forget that this was temporary. She well knew the heartbreak associated with a permanent arrangement. And lest she forget…

She crossed to her wardrobe, then knelt to withdraw a small mahogany jewelry box she kept hidden in the far back corner beneath several blankets. She opened the lid and withdrew the ring inside. Rising, she stared at her diamond wedding ring resting in her palm. A flawless five carats of brilliance, surrounded by a dozen smaller stones, all equally perfect. A ring most women would covet. Sadly, she was not most women. She’d kept this painful reminder of the past so she’d never forget the emptiness that resulted from all its promises. One look at the jewel was a forceful reminder that she would not, could not allow one night of passion to cloud her common sense. Whatever these… feelings for Andrew were, she needed to push them aside. Forget them. They would enjoy a few more days together, then go their separate ways, leaving them both with lovely memories, but nothing more.

Satisfied that she’d put everything back into its proper perspective, she was about to bend down to retrieve the jewelry box when a quiet knock sounded at her door. Slipping the ring into her pocket, she said, “Come in,” wondering if Mary had forgotten something when she’d delivered her breakfast.

The door opened, and Andrew stepped over the threshold. Andrew, looking clean and freshly shaved, his hair neatly combed, his fawn breeches and dark blue jacket accentuating his dark good looks, cravat perfectly knotted, boots polished to a high sheen. He looked tall and broad, masculine and delicious, and, with his eyes intent upon hers, just a bit predatory and dangerous. Her heart jumped, and every nerve ending tingled with awareness.

His gaze traveled down her length, making Catherine very much aware that she wore nothing beneath the cream satin robe knotted loosely at her waist. Her skin shivered with anticipation under his leisurely regard. When their eyes finally met once again, he reached behind him and locked the door. The quiet click reverberated through her mind, and she desperately tried to recall the Guide’s sage advice on how to greet one’s lover after a night spent naked in his arms. Her common sense screamed that he shouldn’t be here, that she didn’t want him here. Her bedchamber was her sanctuary. Her haven. Hers. Unfortunately, the pounding of her heart drowned out her common sense.

He walked slowly toward her, looking very much like a sleek jungle cat stalking its prey, and her heart rate doubled at the ravenous gleam in his eyes. As she seemed suddenly incapable of movement or speech, she waited for him to stop, to smile, to say good morning, but he did none of those things. Instead, he walked right up to her, wordlessly pulled into his arms, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Oh, my. It was her last coherent thought as she simply gave herself over to his demanding kiss. His clean scent surrounded her, as did the heat of his body. The strength of his arms. The urgent press of his thighs against hers.

She parted her lips and was rewarded with the sensual sweep of his tongue against hers. And his hands, those glorious, large, callused hands that could only be described as magical, seemed to be everywhere. Combing through her hair. Skimming down her back. Cupping her buttocks. Palming her breasts. All while his mouth devoured hers with a fierce hunger that left her breathless and starving for more. Had it only been a few hours since she’d been in his arms? Somehow it felt like years.

His arms tightened around her, and she reveled in his strength, lifting up on her toes, straining closer to him. Then he suddenly changed the pace of their frantic kiss, gentling it to a slow, deep melding of mouths and tongues that dissolved her knees. When he finally lifted his head, she wasn’t certain she could recall her name.

“Good morning, Catherine,” he whispered against her lips.

Catherine. Yes, of course. That is my name.

She supposed she murmured good morning, but she wasn’t quite certain. He leaned forward and nuzzled his lips against the sensitive juncture where her neck met her shoulder. “You smell incredible.” His warm breath sluiced over her skin, eliciting a barrage of heated shivers. “Like a flower garden.”

Summoning her strength, she pointed toward the brass tub set in the corner of the room. “I just finished bathing.”

He turned his head, looked toward the tub, then groaned. “Do you mean to say that if I’d arrived only minutes earlier, I’d have caught you in the bath?”

“I’m afraid so.”

His teeth lightly tugged on her earlobe. “I shall have to see about correcting my lamentable timing. Although, I don’t know that my heart could have withstood the sight of you in the bath. Do you have any idea how the sight of you, simply standing there in your robe, affected me?”

She leaned backed in the circle of his arms. Surely she meant to be demure. Coy. Instead, the simple truth rushed from her lips. “Yes. Because seeing you enter my bedchamber, with desire in your eyes, affected me the same way.” Warmth rushed into her cheeks at the admission. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to speak with you.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m afraid I must return to London. Today. As soon as possible.”

Dismay and disappointment filled her. “I see. Is something amiss?”

“A break-in and some vandalism at the museum. There was nothing there to steal, but apparently the building sustained considerable damage. I need to see how extensive the repairs will be, so I can report to Philip. I’ll also need to talk to the investors, allay any fears they may have. The last thing Philip and I need is nervous investors.”

She rested her palm against his cheek in a gesture of commiseration and sympathy. He looked so very grim. “How awful. I’m so sorry this has happened.”

“As am I. Not only for the obvious reasons regarding the museum, but also because I have no wish to leave here. I was very much looking forward to spending the day with you and Spencer.” His eyes darkened. “And the night with you.”

Desire fluttered through her veins, and she swallowed before asking, “Are you… planning to return to Little Longstone?”

“Yes.”

A breath she hadn’t realized she held pushed past her lips. “When?”

“I’m hoping tomorrow.”

“Please consider my stable at your disposal.”

“Thank you. The journey will be quicker if I travel on horseback rather than coach. I’ll do my best to arrive here by early evening, but I may be later.”

“I see. Will you… meet me tomorrow night?”

“When and where?”

She considered for a moment. “Midnight. At the springs. I want…”

He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to make love to me in the warm waters.”

Something that looked like fear, but surely wasn’t flickered in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly she decided she must have been mistaken. He brushed a soft kiss against her mouth. “It will be my very great pleasure to grant your wish, Catherine.”

His words caressed her lips, shooting want to her core. “Tomorrow might, the springs, at midnight,” she murmured in a breathless whisper. Passion, desire, lust, all so new, all so long denied, swamped her. “Andrew… I don’t want to wait until tomorrow night.”

He lifted his head, and the inferno burning in his gaze singed her. “Be careful what you wish for Catherine, because you are only seconds away from-”

“Being led astray?” Stepping back from his embrace, she unknotted the sash to her robe, then shrugged the satin from her shoulders, where it fell to a soft heap at her feet.

He watched her robe slither down her body, leaving her naked. His entire body tensed, filling her with a heady sense of feminine power and satisfaction.

“Led astray?” he repeated softly, taking a step closer to her. “Hmmm. Yes, that is definitely a possibility.”

“Only a possibility?” She made a tsking sound, then backed up another step, then another, until she leaned against the wall. “How… disappointing.”

He erased the distance between them in one stride, then braced his hands on the wall on either side of her, bracketing her in. His heated gaze raked over her, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and her breath hitched.

“Is that what you want, Catherine? To be led astray?”

“I’m not certain precisely what that entails, but it sounds… tantalizing.”

“I’d be delighted to show you.”

She splayed her hands against his chest, further emboldened by the rapid pounding of his heart against her palms. Her entire body quickened in anticipation of his touch. “Excellent. I’m looking forward to a proper good-bye.”

“My darling Catherine, there is nothing the least bit proper about the good-bye you’re about to receive.”

His mouth covered hers in a searing, devouring kiss. She slid her hands inside his jacket to stroke his back, feeling a desperate, overwhelming need to touch, to be touched everywhere at once. With a ragged groan, he deepened their kiss, his tongue plunging and stroking while he filled his hands with her aching breasts, his fingers teasing her sensitive nipples, which begged for more. His lips left her mouth, and he pressed hot, fervent kisses across her jaw, down her neck, then skimmed over her chest. His tongue laved drugging swirls around her aroused nipples before drawing each aroused bud into the velvety heat of his mouth. Catherine arched her back in a silent plea to taste more of her, and he obliged, while she tangled her fingers in his thick, silky hair She squirmed against him, and in response he sank to his knees, trailing openmouthed kisses along her stomach. Her muscles quivered when he tasted the indentation of her navel. She sucked in a breath, filling her head with an erotic scent she recognized as her own feminine musk, combined with Andrew’s sandalwood.

“Spread your legs for me, Catherine,” he demanded in a raw rasp, the words vibrating against her stomach.

Feeling as if she were burning from the inside out, she obeyed, and he rewarded her by stroking the swollen, wet folds between her thighs. A gasp, followed by a long purr of pleasure rippled in her throat, and she gripped his shoulders.

He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below her navel, then his lips glided lower, lower, until his tongue caressed her as his fingers just had.

Amazing, shocking sensations ripped through her. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the wall, inflamed beyond reason as he cupped her bottom in his palms and made love to her with his mouth, worshiping, tormenting her with his lips and tongue until she thought she’d go mad from the pleasure. Her climax roared through her, flashes of all-consuming fire, dragging a harsh cry from her lips.

Her spasms had no sooner subsided than he stood and swiftly carried her to the bed, where he laid her upon the counterpane. With exquisite tremors still rippling through her, she held out her arms, silently beseeching him to come to her, desperate to feel his delicious weight, the thrust of his arousal inside her. The five seconds it required him to free his erection from his breeches seemed to her like an eternity. He loomed over her, settling himself between her splayed thighs, and entered her in one long, smooth, heart-stopping stroke.

Their gazes locked, and with every nuance of his intense expression visible in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, he moved slowly within her, penetrating deep, then almost withdrawing from her body, only to sink deep once again. Her hands strayed restlessly over his back, then gripped his shoulders. He quickened his strokes, and she moaned, meeting, accepting, savoring his every thrust. She arched her back, and her pleasure overtook once more. A masculine moan, sounding as if scraped from his throat, echoed in the room. He buried his head in the V of her shoulder and shuddered his release, murmuring her name over and over, like a prayer.

Breathing hard, Andrew rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, then closed his eyes and fought to regain control. Bloody hell, this woman, their lovemaking, rendered him vanquished. Vulnerable. More raw and exposed man he’d ever felt in his entire life. How would he bear it if she did not return his feelings? Didn’t want him to be part of her life permanently? She cared, he could tell she did. But did she care enough?

When the world righted itself again, he leaned back and brushed her tousled hair from her flushed face. She dragged her eyes open with obvious effort, and he swallowed a groan of longing at the slumberous, languorous smolder in her golden brown depths. Surely there was something he should say to her. God knows his heart was close to bursting with all he felt for her. But he feared saying too much. Worried that if he spoke, he wouldn’t stop until he told her she owned his heart. Had owned it for much longer than she knew. Would always own it. Yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain the words much longer. Soon, she would know. And he prayed to God that telling her wouldn’t cost him what they now shared. Because as miraculous as it was, having her body simply wasn’t enough.

For several seconds she said nothing, just looked at him with an expression that seemed troubled. And confused. Then her expression cleared and a tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips, coaxing him to touch his lips to the spot. “Oh, my.” She sighed. “I just added to my list of firsts. That was my first time being led astray. I hope it isn’t my last.”

“I’d be delighted to oblige you at any time, my lady. You’ve only to ask.”

“I very much enjoyed my proper good-bye, Andrew.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s because it was your improper good-bye. And if you enjoyed that, I’m certain you’ll like tomorrow night’s proper, or rather improper, hello even more.”

“Oh, my. What does that mean?”

“I cannot tell you. It is a surprise.” When she appeared about to argue, he said, “Do I need to fetch the dictionary?”

“No.”She tilted her chin, feigning sticking her nose in the air. “However, I am therefore not going to tell you about the surprise I have planned.”

“A surprise? For me?”

“Perhaps,”she said airily.

“What is it?”

“Ha! Who requires the dictionary now?”

“How about a hint? Just a tiny one?” he asked, holding his thumb and forefinger close together.

A delightful sound that could only be described as a giggle bubbled from between her lips. “Absolutely not.”

Leaning forward, he brushed his tongue over the delicate shell of her ear. “Please?”

“Ooh. Well, perhaps… no. Definitely not.”

“Ah, a woman of strong will,” he murmured, skimming his fingers lightly down the center of her spine.

“As Today’s Modern Woman should be.”

“However, Today’s Modern Woman also knows that it is wise to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts. Giving me a miniscule hint regarding the nature of your surprise would surely whet my appetite and guarantee that you’d remain uppermost in my mind while I’m away.”

She went perfectly still-except for her eyes, which narrowed. “What did you say?”

“That by giving me a hint-”

“Before that.”

Andrew frowned and thought for several seconds. “I believe I said, ‘Today’s Modern Woman also knows that it is wise to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts.' Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes.”Her eyes narrowed further. “Where did you learn such a dung?”

“Why, from A Ladies‘ Guide, of course.”

Andrew had to clench his jaw to keep a straight face at her dumbfounded expression. “How on earth would you know what was written in A Ladies Guide?”

“Brace yourself, my dear, but one often does learn something when one reads.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read the Guide.”

“Very well, I won’t tell you that, but why you’d want me to lie to you is a mystery.”

“You read the Guide?”

“Every word. Cover to cover.”

“When? Where? How?”

“Such an inquisitive nature. Let me see. As to when, the night before last-before we met at the springs. As for where, in my bedchamber. And to answer how, I purchased a copy the morning we departed London. Our conversation at your father’s party intrigued me, and I decided to read the tome to see what all the fuss was about. And I must confess, I was somewhat contrarily driven by the fact that you seemed so positive I would not read such drivel.”

“That was your description, not mine.”

“Was it? Well, I stand corrected.”

“Meaning what precisely?”

“That I found the Guide very… informative. And well written.”

There was no missing the smug satisfaction that fired in her eyes. “I believe I mentioned as much.”

“You did. Indeed, you defended the book and the author with the sort of fierce loyalty a mother tiger normally bestows upon her cubs.”

Crimson suffused her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the wash of brilliant color. “Surely you can understand why the book is causing such a scandal.”

Her blush deepened. “Yes, but I believe the information it provides women far outweighs any trodden-upon sensibilities. Charles Brightmore should be praised for what he’s done.”

“Again you fiercely defend him. Almost as if you… knew him.”

She pressed her lips together, then shifted out of his embrace. He let her go, watching her slide off the bed, then retrieve her robe, slipping her arms into the silk sleeves. After she’d tightened the sash around her waist, she turned to face him, her eyes intense with suppressed emotion.

“I defend him because God knows I wish I’d had access to the information provided by the Guide before I’d wed. Or at any time during the early days of my marriage. I went to my marriage bed knowing nothing about what to do or what to expect. I did not know women could experience pleasure during lovemaking. I had no idea lovemaking involved anything more than a few minutes in a darkened room with my nightgown rucked up to my waist. I didn’t know that the warmth that began during those few minutes could, if properly tended, ignite into a blazing inferno that scorched everything in its path. I did not know I was capable of the sort of lust and hunger that I’d always associated with men. Charles Brightmore taught me all those things and more. He taught me, encouraged me, to allow myself to feel those things. And to act upon them.”

“I see. You know, I’ve heard rumors that suggest Brightmore may in fact be a woman,” he remarked casually, watching her.

“Indeed? Where did you hear that?”

He rose, and adjusted his clothing while he spoke. “Most recently at your father’s birthday party. Personally, I think it’s intriguing, and entirely possible. Brightmore writes with an understanding of women that I’ve never before encountered in a man, no matter how sophisticated or worldly.” He smiled. “In case you aren’t aware, women are notoriously difficult to understand, yet Brightmore clearly does not suffer from the same confusions as the rest of us poor males.”

“Obviously he is well-versed in the ways of women.”

“Obviously. Yet it makes one curious as to how he gained such knowledge.”

“Through numerous intimacies, like the ones we’ve recently shared, I imagine,” she said, walking forward until they almost touched. She splayed her hands on his abdomen; yet even while he welcomed her touch, he had the undeniable suspicion that she was trying to distract him. But considering she was so very distracting, he shoved the suspicion aside.

“Perhaps,”he conceded. “You do realize, of course, that this now means that I am the winner of our wager.”

She cocked a brow. “Indeed? The wager that only last night you led me to believe I’d won?”

“I beg to differ. As I recall, you insisted, quite emphatically, that you’d won. I, in the spirit of being a gentleman, simply did not argue with you.”

He bit back a smile at her snort. “Not argue with me? Well, that is a first.”

“I sensed it was the wisest course, and I very much wanted to know what boon you wished. Believe me when I say that I was delighted to discover that your wish so closely mirrored my own.”

“Yet now I owe you a boon.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And what do you desire?”

His fingers kneaded her supple waist. “So many things… it will require a great deal of thought to settle upon just one.” He ran his palms down, over her hips. “What is this?” he asked, fingering a small, hard bump near her hip.

After a slight hesitation she slipped her hand into her robe’s pocket and withdrew a ring, which she held up to the light. Prisms of diamond flash glittered, bouncing off the walls, floor, and ceiling, as if she’d tossed a handful of stars into the air. “My wedding ring,” she said.

Unreasonable, ridiculous jealousy slapped Andrew at that physical symbol of her husband’s claim upon her. He knew a fair amount about gems, yet one did not need to be an expert to see that the stones were exquisite. Forcing his voice to remain neutral, he said, “I’ve never seen you wear it. Why was it in your pocket?”

“I don’t wear it. I was merely looking at it. When I heard the knock on my door, I slipped it into my pocket and forgot about it.” She handed him the ring. “What do you think of it?”

He studied it carefully. “The stones, individually, are all beautiful, even the smaller ones. Yet, I’m surprised this is a ring you would have chosen.”

“Why?”

He handed it back to her, not wanting to touch it any longer. “It just somehow doesn’t seem to suit you.” Because I didn’t give it to you. “It looks a bit overwhelming for your delicate hand. But I suppose that there is no such thing as too large a jewel.”

“Actually, I think there is. And while I’d wager many would think this ring lovely, I hate it. I’ve always hated it.”

He watched her closely. “Why is that?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not overly fond of diamonds. I find them colorless and cold. Although he was aware of that, Bertrand still gave me this ring, not because he thought I would like it, but because it was the ring he wanted me to wear. It did not matter what I liked or wanted. Unfortunately, I was too naive at the time he gave it to me to see it as a harbinger of things to come.”

“And what had you wanted?”

“Anything other than a diamond. Emerald. Sapphire. Something with color and life. My mother used to wear an emerald brooch that I loved-it is one of my most prized possessions.” She inclined her head and gazed at him curiously. “With all your travels I imagine you’ve collected some very interesting items. Which one do you prize the most?”

He hesitated for several seconds, then said, “I’d rather show you than tell you. I’ll bring it back with me tomorrow so you may see it.”

“All right.”

“Catherine… if you dislike this ring so much, why do you keep it?” Why were you looking at it?

“Because it is another of my most prized possessions- but not because of its monetary value.”

“Then why?”

“It’s a reminder. Of what I had with Bertrand.” She stared down at the ring resting in her palm. “Unhappiness. Loneliness. And what I didn’t have with him. Laughter. Love. Sharing. Our union was colorless and cold, just like these stones.”

He tipped up her chin until their gazes met. “Why would you want to be reminded of that?”

Something in her gaze hardened. “Because I never want to forget. I refuse to make that same mistake again. Refuse to give my life, my happiness, my care, or that of my son, over to another man again. To allow anyone to have that sort of control over me or Spencer ever again.”

Andrew clearly read the resolution in her voice. Her eyes. And realized with a sinking heart that her words were a subtle warning, reiterating the fact that she did not want another marriage-the one thing he wanted more than anything.

He’d hoped, prayed, that after making love, she would have come to see that they belonged together. That there was room for him in her life. That their relationship would be nothing like her previous marriage. But the ring in her pocket was very telling. Clearly the thoughts their night together had inspired were not what he’d been hoping for.

Well, obviously he’d lost the battle. But he’d be damned if he would lose the war.