Not Quite A Gentleman

Thirteen

Every Modern Woman deserves to experience one grand passion in her life, but unfortunately not every woman is blessed with finding someone who inspires such desire. If she is lucky enough to meet the man who makes her heart pound and her knees quake and her insides shiver, she should not allow anything to stand in her way of grabbing happiness with both hands.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Nathan slowed Midnight as they neared the curve in the shady, tree-lined path.

“Is this the place?” asked Victoria, riding beside him on Honey.

“Just around this curve.” He pulled in a deep breath and braced himself, but it did nothing to stop the onslaught. The instant he rounded that curve, the memories he’d fought so hard to hold at bay assaulted him, laying siege to the carefully built fortifications he’d constructed to ward off the guilt, remorse, and self-condemnation that had threatened to consume him from the inside out. He’d known he’d have to revisit this spot, but he’d hoped, prayed, that the images would have faded. Instead they impaled him like a knife in his gut.

Reining Midnight to a halt, Nathan’s gaze fell upon the spot where he’d come upon Gordon, then shifted to the hedge from which he’d pulled Colin. He squeezed his eyes shut. Vivid images cut through his mind, slashes of pain, each one stinging like the lash of a whip, deepening the scars of regret that already marked him. His chest and throat tightened, and he opened his eyes, his gaze scanning the ground. Three years worth of rain had washed away all traces of Colin’s and Gordon’s blood. If only he’d been able to wipe his memory as clean.

He felt a touch on his arm and turned his head. Victoria’s gloved hand rested on his sleeve and she was looking at him with unmistakable concern. “Are you all right, Nathan?”

No. I’m not all right. Everything that mattered to me was lost. Right here. And I’ve no one to blame but myself. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He forced a half grin. “Thank you, although I must warn you that such honeyed words are apt to swell my head.”

No trace of amusement lit her features as her gaze searched his for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she said quietly, “It is painful for you to be here.”

He swallowed the humorless sound that rose in his throat and nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

An immediate no rose to his lips, but her voice and eyes were filled with a compassion that beckoned him. And suddenly he couldn’t think of one compelling reason not to tell her.

“Based on information I’d received from an informant, I retrieved the cache of jewels from a ship anchored in Mount’s Bay.”

“How did you retrieve them?”

He shrugged. “Let us just say I am a strong swimmer and handy with a knife.” Her eyes widened, but before she could question him further, he continued, “I was to deliver the jewels here that night, but just as I arrived, shots rang out. I discovered Gordon lying injured in the path. When I started toward him, I was struck from behind and dropped the jewels. Before I could recover myself, my attacker grabbed them and disappeared into the forest.”

“You didn’t give chase?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Another guilt-filled memory hit him with a visceral punch. “Because seeing if Gordon was alive was more important. Then I realized Colin had also been shot.”

“Who were you supposed to deliver the jewels to?”

He hesitated. He’d never told anyone, in spite of the fact that he was no longer under any obligation to remain silent. Yet even though his instincts warned him to continue to keep the information to himself, they also told him that he could trust this woman. And that she had a right to know.

“I’ll need your word that you won’t repeat what I’m about to tell you.”

“Very well.”

“I was supposed to deliver the jewels to your father.”

Her hand slowly slipped from his sleeve and she frowned. “My father?” she repeated in a confused tone. “I don’t understand. He was here? In Cornwall?”

“Yes. When I heard the shots, my first thought was that your father had been waylaid. I was shocked to learn it was Gordon and Colin who’d been hurt.”

“Why?”

“Because they knew nothing about the mission. The only people who knew were me and your father. To this day neither Gordon nor Colin know it was your father I was to meet, and I want it to stay that way. At least for now.”

“But why were they not included in the mission? And if they weren’t, what were they doing here that night?”

“Your father was in charge of the mission and only wanted one other operative involved. As to why he chose me rather than Colin or Gordon, the reason came down to money. A huge reward was offered for the recovery of the jewels. As heirs, both Colin and Gordon were financially set for life. I, on the other hand, could not say the same thing. By assigning the task to me, your father offered me the chance for financial security.”

“I… see,” she said, although it was clear she still had questions. “What happened to my father that night? Was he injured as well?”

“I was, of course, very concerned about him. I’d just finished treating Colin and Gordon when I received a coded message from your father informing me that he was waylaid shortly after leaving the inn where he’d been staying and asking what had transpired. I wrote back an explanation, to which he replied that he intended to return to London and instructed me to say as little as possible to Colin and Gordon regarding the mission and insisted I not mention his involvement. I’d managed to forestall questions from Colin and Gordon while I treated their injuries, but I knew I couldn’t avoid them much longer. When they did finally demand answers, my vague responses failed to satisfy them. Rumors about the missing jewels and my involvement ran rampant almost immediately-no doubt thanks to tidbits the servants overheard. The next thing I knew, I was being officially questioned. Nothing was ever proven against me, but it was clear that few believed me innocent. Every day fresh bits of gossip surfaced. Whispers and stares followed me around the village. And at home as well.”

“Your family thought you guilty?”

“Neither Colin nor my father ever flat-out accused me, but neither did they proclaim my innocence. A blind man could have read the doubt in their eyes.” The image of Colin that was burned into his brain-staring up at him with doubt and suspicion-flashed in his mind, bringing a sharp jolt of pain. Blinking away the memory, he continued, “As for my best friend, Gordon, he flat-out accused me.”

“What evidence did he have?”

“None. There was none. Only innuendo and speculation, but that can be just as damaging, I’m afraid. Gordon, among others, thought it very convenient that I had been the only one to escape the debacle uninjured.”

“How did you respond to that accusation?”

“I didn’t. It was obvious that nothing I said would sway him.” And damn it, that had hurt. Nearly as much as Colin’s doubting him. He refocused his attention on Victoria, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. How long before she asked him if her father thought he was guilty? How long before she realized the implications that if he and her father were the only two people who knew of the mission, and he wasn’t guilty-

“You say your brother and father didn’t proclaim your innocence. Did you proclaim it?”

Nathan pulled his gaze from hers and looked into the dense forest. “I told them I hadn’t betrayed my country, but it fell on deaf ears. Colin felt deceived by and suspicious of my continued secrecy. My father, who was shocked to discover that his sons had been working for the Crown, accused me of being responsible for Colin’s injury. Colin could have died, he said, as if I didn’t know that. As if that wouldn’t eat at me every day for the rest of my life. A terrible row followed. Angry, hurtful words. They felt duped and betrayed, and I felt…” His voice trailed off.

“What did you feel?” she asked softly.

“Guilt. Remorse. Gutted. My father told me to leave, and I did so.”

“That must have been very painful.”

He turned to look at her, searching her gaze for signs of condemnation, yet detected nothing but sympathy. Somehow that made him feel worse than if she’d looked at him with censure. “That’s putting it… mildly. After moving about for more than two years, I finally discovered Little Longstone. Everyone there accepts me simply as Dr. Nathan Oliver. No one knows of my exalted family connections or my past as a spy or my tarnished reputation. I’ve embraced the profession I love and live the way I’ve always wanted. The way I’ve always felt most comfortable. Simply. Peacefully.”

“Perhaps peacefully, but you’re not really at peace.”

An immediate denial sprang to his lips, but the words died at the warm compassion, the gentle tenderness, so obvious in her gaze.

“I can see it your eyes, Nathan,” she said softly. “The shadows. The hurt. I knew as soon as I saw you again that you weren’t the same man I’d met three years ago.”

Damn it, how did she manage to sneak beneath his guard like this? She made him feel… vulnerable. Defenseless. And he didn’t like it. “I’m sure you mean that in the nicest way,” he said in a dust dry tone.

“I mean I knew that something had changed you. Now I know what. And I’m sorry for you that it happened.”

“Because you liked me so much the first time we met.”

He said the words with unmistakable sarcasm, but she surprised him by answering in a dead serious tone, “Yes.” Then she smiled. “Surely that was obvious to a master spy such as yourself. I believe you liked me as well.”

God, yes, he had. Liked the look of her. The twinkle in her eyes. Her alluring smile. The sweet innocence mixed with mischief overlaid with delicate beauty. Her charming nervous chatter, which had led him to silence her with a kiss. Then the delectable taste of her. The delicious feel and scent of her. Nothing, no one, had fired his blood or affected him so profoundly before or since.

“Yes, Victoria,” he said softly. “I liked you.” God help him, he still did. And far too much, he feared.

A rose-hued blush stained her cheeks, and he gripped Midnight’s reins to keep from touching her. “You… that night… it was my first kiss, you know,” she said.

Something inside Nathan seemed to expand. “No, I didn’t know for certain, but I suspected as much.”

Her cheeks reddened further and her gaze slid from his. “My inexperience must have bored you.”

He could only stare. Surely she was joking. Bored him? If only it had. Yet her blush and clear embarrassment indicated she was in earnest. While his common sense told him it was wiser to let her believe what she wanted, his conscience simply couldn’t allow her to harbor such a gross misapprehension. Reaching out, he touched two fingertips under her chin. Even that infinitesimal contact with her soft skin sizzled heat through him. When she met his gaze, he said softly, “You didn’t bore me, Victoria. You…” Intoxicated me. Bewitched me. Enchanted me. Captivated me. Rendered yourself irrevocably unforgettable with a single kiss. “… were delightful.”

He swore he caught a flash of relief in those eyes that were the same vivid azure as the sea. The hint of a smile trembled on her lips. “I could perhaps say the same about you.”

“You could… or you are?” His tone was lightly teasing, but he suddenly realized he very much wanted her answer.

“Are you certain you really want to know the answer, Nathan?” she asked in a matching teasing tone, mimicking the question he’d asked her more than once.

Slipping his fingers from beneath her chin, he grinned. “Actually, being the master spy I am, I already know the answer. Your enthusiastic response indicated you found the encounter as delightful as I did.”

She inclined her head in a gesture of acquiescence, then shrugged. “I’ve learned that men who are well versed in the art of kissing are accustomed to enthusiastic responses.”

He narrowed his eyes, but she didn’t notice as she turned to watch a pair of twittering birds dancing on a nearby branch. What the hell had she meant by that? Jealousy, searing hot and undeniable, shot through him. Why did he even need to wonder? Obviously there was only one way she could have learned such a thing-by kissing. Men. Men who weren’t him.

Damn it, last night he’d suffered through sleepless hours tormented by such thoughts. Well, not the entire night. Part was spent indulging in erotic fantasies of touching her, kissing her, making love to her a dozen different ways, exploring every inch of her soft, fragrant skin with his hands and mouth and tongue. But part was also spent fighting back tormenting images of her sharing such intimacies with another man. When she returned to London she would choose a husband. One of her bloody earls. Or worse, Gordon or Colin, both of whom were clearly attracted to her. The real problem, however, was his own painful, ever growing, and extremely unfortunate attraction to her.

She turned to him. “Did my father believe you innocent?”

“He said he did.”

She nodded slowly. “If it makes any difference, I believe you innocent.”

His heart jumped in that ridiculous way, and with those simple words, she touched something deep inside him. Her belief in him shouldn’t make a difference. He didn’t want it to make a difference. But… it did. “Thank you.”

“I also believe my father innocent,” she continued, making it clear she understood the implications of believing Nathan innocent of wrongdoing. “There must be another explanation. And I’m determined to find out what it is. The answer lies in the jewels. So, shall we begin our search?”

“Yes,” he agreed, although he was beginning to suspect that he’d already found a treasure he hadn’t even suspected existed.

After nearly three hours of unsuccessfully searching a dozen rock formations in the first grid square, they arrived at a gurgling stream.

“This marks the northern boundary of the estate,” Nathan said. “I suggest we stop here to eat and allow the horses to drink and rest.”

“All right,” Victoria said, hoping she didn’t sound as grateful as she felt. Tired, sore, hungry and thirsty, she was more than ready to take a break.

Nathan swung from the saddle, removed the worn leather bag holding their picnic meal, then gave Midnight a gentle pat on the rump. The gelding immediately headed toward the stream. Nathan then walked to Victoria and lifted his arms to assist her. Flutters tickled her stomach, but his touch was impersonal, and the instant her feet touched the ground, he released her, leaving her oddly disappointed. Indeed, he’d spoken little during the past three hours.

Setting her hands on her lower spine, Victoria arched her back to relieve the stiffness and winced. Nathan looked up from where he crouched beside the saddlebag.

“I should have suggested we stop earlier,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And have you accuse me of being a wilting hothouse flower? No, thank you. Not only that, but we were getting along so well in our silence, I hated to disrupt our accord. Besides, I didn’t want to stop searching. We’ve a great deal of ground to cover.” She looked around her, taking in the tall trees and vast landscape. “I didn’t realize how much.”

“It’s a huge estate.” He pulled two apples from the saddlebag and tossed them lightly up to her. “Why don’t you give Midnight and Honey a snack while I set up our picnic?”

“All right.” Apples in hand, Victoria walked to the edge of the stream, where the two horses were still drinking the crystal clear water. While she waited for them to finish, she removed her riding gloves and surveyed her surroundings. Sunlight glinted stripes of gold through the leaves, while fluffy clouds floated lazily against a dazzling blue backdrop. Lush greenery interspersed with patches of colorful wildflowers and uneven rocks lined both sides of the stream. The gentle gurgle of water running over time-smoothened rocks provided background music to the twittering of birds and the rustling of leaves from a breeze cool enough to offer relief from the sun’s warmth without providing a chill. Victoria drew a deep breath, enjoying the faint scent of the sea that lingered in the air even though they weren’t near the shore.

Honey lifted her head, and Victoria fed the mare her treat, while patting her neck and murmuring soothing words. Midnight nudged her, clearly wanting the same attention. With a laugh, Victoria awarded him his apple and bestowed an equal amount of pats and murmurs. Finished with her task, she rinsed her hands in the chilly water, then turned toward Nathan.

He stood in the shade of a soaring elm next to a colorful quilt upon which was spread a massive variety of food. He offered a low bow then grinned. “Your meal awaits, my lady.”

“Heavens,” she said, walking toward him, surveying the array of cheeses and tarts, meats and biscuits, fruits and bread. “How did all this fit in one saddlebag?”

“Cook is an expert at packing.”

Looking down at the blanket, she laughed. “There’s enough food here for half a dozen people. Are we expecting guests?”

“No. It’s just the two of us.”

Her head snapped up and their eyes met. Yes, it was indeed just the two of them. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Cook informed me that she doesn’t want any food left over. That we cannot return until it’s all gone.”

Good lord, that could take… hours. Another skipped heartbeat. Pulling in a calming breath, she smiled. “Then we’d best get started.”

She walked to the blanket, then sat in the place he indicated, arranging her skirts around her. He lowered himself next to her, folded his longs legs in front of him, and proceeded to prepare her a heaping plate. After preparing one for himself, he filled two pewter mugs with cider. Raising his mug, he pinned her with a look she couldn’t decipher but that rolled a wave of heat through her just the same. “Here’s to finding what we’re looking for.”

“Yes,” she murmured, touching her mug to his. She took a grateful sip, welcoming the coolness on her dry, parched throat. The food looked delicious, and since she was famished, she dug in with gusto. Nathan, she noted, did the same, and for several minutes they simply ate, surrounded by the sun-dappled shade and the sounds of the outdoors.

After helping himself to another thick slice of bread, Nathan pulled in a long, deep breath then exhaled. “God, I love the smell here. That bit of the sea that’s always in the air. Much as I love Little Longstone, it doesn’t smell like this. Neither does London.” He glanced at her and gave an exaggerated shudder. “How can you stand spending so much time there?”

“There’re the shops.”

He shook his head. “Crowds.”

“The fabulous parties.”

“Tedious conversation with tiresome strangers.”

“The opera.”

“People singing indecipherable songs in languages I don’t understand.”

She laughed. “I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree. What about you? How can you stand to spend all your time buried in the country? Don’t you find it desolate?”

“No. It’s peaceful.”

“There’s no excitement.”

“Tranquil.”

“No Regent or Bond streets.”

“Thank God.”

“Lonely.”

He paused at that, a small frown burrowing between his brows. “Sometimes,” he said quietly. “But I have my books and my animals and my patients.”

“No woman anxiously awaiting your return?” She tossed out the question with a lightness that was in complete contrast to the hard thumping of her heart.

“No one.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “At least that I know of. Perhaps I have several secret admirers who are pining away for me even as we speak.” He popped a bit of cheese into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “I imagine Branripple and Dravensby eagerly anticipate your return to London.”

God help her, she almost asked Who? before her inner voice chimed in to remind her, Your earls. One of whom you‘re going to marry.

Were they eagerly awaiting her return? Most likely they were busy attending the whirlwind of parties associated with the Little Season. Where, given their eligibility, they would be much sought after by a bevy of marriage-minded young women. Who would fawn over them. Flirt with them. Dance with them. Perhaps even share kisses with them. The thought of which…

Didn’t bother her at all.

A frown yanked down her brows. Surely that should bother her. Surely she should feel something at the thought of another woman capturing Branripple or Dravensby’s attention. Some fissure of concern. A twinge of annoyance. A pang of jealousy. Yet she felt… nothing.

But then she turned to Nathan, who was regarding her with heated intensity, and suddenly she did feel something. A sizzling whoosh of something that curled her toes inside her leather riding boots. And it hit her in a lightning flash of realization that the thought of another woman kissing this man made her stomach cramp. Made her want to break something. Made her want to slap the other woman so hard that the lips that had dared to kiss Nathan fell off. Onto the ground. Where she could then grind them into the dirt with the heel of her shoe.

“Are you all right, Victoria? Your expression looks quite… ferocious.”

Victoria blinked away the image of a slapped, lipless woman and beat back the claws of jealousy that were as undeniable as they were confusing. What on earth was wrong with her?

“I’m fine,” she said, taking a hasty sip of cider.

“Good.” He set aside his empty plate, then patted his stomach. “Delicious. But now comes the best part of a picnic.”

“Dessert?”

“Even better.” He slipped off his jacket, folded it-none too neatly-then lay back, using the bundle as a makeshift pillow. “Ahhhh…” The deep sigh of contentment pushed from between his lips, and his eyes slid closed.

Victoria sat perfectly still and stared. Well, perfectly still except for her eyeballs, which performed a thorough downward ogle, er, survey. Skeins of sunlight illuminated burnished streaks in his mussed hair and cast his face into an intriguing pattern of golden light and smoky shadows. Snowy linen, marked with wrinkles from his jacket, stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. His hands rested on his abdomen, his long fingers loosely linked just above the waist of his fawn breeches. Ah, yes… those fawn breeches that hugged his muscular legs in that fascinating, speech-robbing way. The breeches disappeared just below his knees into well-worn black riding boots. The picture of utter relaxation was complete with his casually crossed ankles.

Good Lord, had she just claimed she was fine? She must be mad. The man was spread before her like a banquet feast. A feast from which she desperately wanted to partake.

When precisely had the male form become so fascinating? Clearly the blame rested on the explicit descriptions of a man’s anatomy in the Ladies’ Guide. While she’d always possessed a natural curiosity, she’d never felt anything like this. Neither Branripple nor Dravensby had ever inspired this desperate compulsion to touch. To explore. To remove their clothing.

With her eyes riveted on him, she had to swallow twice to locate her voice. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Enjoying the last phase of a picnic.”

“I don’t think taking a nap here is a very good idea, Nathan.” Heavens, she sounded prim. If only she felt prim, as opposed to feeling like an overly ripe peach about to burst from its too tight skin.

“I’m not napping. I’m relaxing. You should try it. It’s very good for the digestion.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed, thank you.” Yes. And if liars caught on fire, she’d be incinerated on the spot. Nervous words gathered in her throat, and she knew she was about to start babbling. “Tell me, what made you want to become a doctor?” The words came out in a breathless rush, but she heaved an inward sigh of relief that at least they made sense.

“I was always drawn to healing, even as a boy. Birds with broken wings, dogs with mangled legs, that sort of thing. That, combined with my love of science and my curiosity for the workings of the human body, and there was never any question in my mind what path I would follow.”

She’d watched, as if in a trance, his beautiful mouth form each word, and her fingertips tingled with the overpowering need to touch his lips. To prevent herself from succumbing to the temptation, she raised her knees, wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and gripped her hands together. There. Now she was saved from making a fool of herself. “And if you hadn’t become a doctor? What profession would you have chosen?”

“A fisherman.”

“You’re joking.”

“What is wrong with being a fisherman?”

“Nothing. ‘Tis just not a very…” Her voice trailed off and suddenly she felt foolish.

“Not a very what?”

“Gentlemanly pursuit.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s honest work. Certainly more useful than the gentlemanly pursuits of gaming and running foxes to the ground. But then I’ve always made my own rules. I never understood why I should spend my life doing things I didn’t enjoy simply because it was what was expected of me. I think I’d have made a fine fisherman. Mount’s Bay is good fishing ground and offers protection even when the seas turn rough, as they often do. I’ve always enjoyed fishing, any time of year, but summer was by far the best. Every July, I eagerly awaited the annual excitement of the great catch of the pilchard.”

“What is that?”

“The Cornish pilchard, a local fish. Men in boats launch massive nets that form an enormous circle around the entire group of fish, called a shoal. The procedure is comparable to the way sheep are herded into pens. Dozens of people, myself included, waited on the shore, where we hauled the tremendous nets filled with thousands of fish onto the beach. We then piled those thousands of fish into every available container, basket, and bucket. It was exhausting and exhilarating and the most anticipated event of the season.”

“What did you do during the rest of the summer?”

“Walked the beaches. Collected shells. Read. Raised mischief with Colin. Studied the stars. Enjoyed picnics. Caught crabs and lobster.”

“You caught them yourself?”

“Yes.” He peeked one eye open at her and grinned. “They hardly walked onto the dinner plates of their own volition, you know.”

Victoria smiled in return and an image materialized in her mind, of a handsome tousle-haired youth, tanned golden from the sun, scooping up crabs, walking along the sand, his hair blowing in the brisk sea breeze. The image was then replaced with one of her, as a young girl, and the contrast was jarring.

“While you were doing all those things, I was learning how to dance and embroider and speak French. You spent your time here, by the sea, while I was raised in London. Even our country home is only a three-hour journey from Town. You enjoyed the company of your brother, while my brother would have rather been shot than spend time with me. You grew up knowing you wanted to be a doctor, I grew up knowing I would have to marry well to ensure my future. How different our lives have been.”

“Surely your father and brother will see to your future.”

“My father will ensure my financial security, but my brother, sadly, cannot be depended upon for anything. And even if he could, I want a family of my own. Children.”

He rolled onto his side, propped the weight of his upper body on his forearm and regarded her through serious eyes. “If you could have been something other than an earl’s daughter, what would you have been?”

“A man,” she answered without the slightest hesitation.

She’d expected him to smile, but his gaze remained steady and serious. “What sort of man? An earl? A duke? A king?”

“Just a… man. So I could have choices. So my destiny wasn’t determined by my gender. So I, too, could choose if I wanted to be a doctor or a fisherman or a spy. You have no idea how fortunate you are.”

His gaze turned thoughtful, then he nodded slowly. “I never thought of it quite like that. What was your childhood like?”

Victoria rested her chin on her upraised knees and considered. No one had ever asked her such a thing. “Lonely. Quiet. Especially after my mother died. If I hadn’t possessed such a deep love of reading, I might have gone mad. I envy you having a sibling you could talk to. Share things with. Edward is ten years my senior. For all the time we spent together, I might as well have been an only child.”

“I can’t imagine not having had Colin. But given our different interests-Colin thinks science is synonymous with torture and he’d prefer to put his head on a chopping block rather than study Latin, and the fact that he had to learn the responsibilities that come with the title-I spent a great deal of my time alone as well.” He studied her for several long seconds, then said, “It seems we might actually have something in common.”

Victoria pretended to look scandalized. “How shocking. Although, I must tell you, I’ve never wanted to be a fisherman.”

“Just as well. Those rough ropes would wreak havoc with your soft hands.” His glance slid to her hands, gripped lightly together around her legs, and her fingers tightened involuntarily. Then he raised his gaze back to hers. “I must tell you, Victoria, while I understand your reasons for wishing you were a man, I’m extremely glad that you’re not.”

“And why is that? Afraid I would best you at billiards?”

“Not at all. I’m an unsurpassedly excellent billiards player.”

“I thought we’d agreed ‘unsurpassedly’ wasn’t a word.”

“I thought we’d agreed it should be. But no matter. The reason I’m glad you’re not a man is because if you were, I wouldn’t do this…” He reached out and brushed a single fingertip over the back of her hand, stopping her breath. Her fingers loosened and he gently clasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

“Nor would I do this,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her skin. He pressed a gentle kiss against the back of her fingertips.

How was it possible that with all this air surrounding them, her lungs had ceased to function? Before she could find an answer, he released her hand and sat up. His face was a mere foot from hers, and the heat simmering in his eyes mesmerized her. The scent of sandalwood mixed with the subtle hint of shaving soap teased her senses, flooding her with an unbearable desire to touch her lips to his cleanly shaven skin, which looked so warm and firm.

“Certainly I wouldn’t think of doing this…” Reaching out, he lightly stroked the pad of his thumb over her cheek, then sifted his fingers into her hair, brushing over her nape to cup the back of her head. Somehow a breath must have found its way into her lungs because she let out a long sigh of pleasure.

He leaned forward, his hand gently coaxing her closer, until only a paper thin space separated their lips. “And this would be completely out of the question.” His mouth feathered across hers, once, twice, a whisper of a touch that only served to tease. But rather than satisfy her, he instead kissed his way across her jaw, softly, barely touching her. His tongue flicked over her earlobe, eliciting a quick intake of breath, then his warm lips nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Roses,” he whispered, the single word awakening a barrage of tingles that skittered down her back. “How is it that you always smell so perfectly of roses?”

Her eyes drifted closed and she stretched her neck to give him better access. “My bath. I scent it with rosewater.”

He leaned back, and she barely swallowed her groan of disappointment. Dragging her eyes open, she stilled at the heat burning in his gaze. “So you smell of roses… everywhere.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement uttered in a husky rasp that ended on a groan. Whatever response she might have hoped to make evaporated when his fingertips lightly grazed her features. The fire in his gaze mixed with a baffled expression, as if he were trying to solve a perplexing puzzle. “You must be told at least a dozen times a day how beautiful you are.”

A short, breathless laugh escaped her. “Hardly. Although I cannot deny I’ve been told.”

“Has anyone told you today?”

“Not so far.”

His index finger grazed her lower lip. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. Although…”

“What? You prefer exquisite? If so, I’ll oblige you.”

“No. It’s just that… it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being beautiful. Or at least it shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not something a person has any control over. It certainly isn’t any great accomplishment-like being a doctor. It didn’t require any special talent or effort on my behalf. It doesn’t make one kind or decent. Yet, it seems to be what I am most admired for. Perhaps all I am admired for. Well, that and my family’s fortune-but again, that is something over which I have no control, nor is it an accomplishment. No special talent or effort required.”

His expression turned even more mystified. “I am surprised to hear you say this. I would have thought you’d place great importance on beauty.”

She inwardly sighed at her tendency to babble. Would she never learn to keep her lips closed? Since she’d come this far, she saw no point in stopping now. “I cannot deny I enjoy pretty clothes and looking my best, which I suppose is fortunate since, given my position, it is expected of me. But I carry in my heart an image of my mother… my mother who was so beautiful people couldn’t help but stare at her. Yet for all her beauty, she wasn’t truly happy.”

The image rose in her mind of her stunning dark-haired mother who laughed gaily in front of guests then cried in her bedchamber. “After I was born, she miscarried two babies. It sent her into a melancholy from which she never recovered. When she died, she was barely forty. And still beautiful. But of what use was that? As for me, all I wanted was my mother. I didn’t care if she was gorgeous or a hag. I would have traded anything I owned, all my supposed ‘beauty,’ for one more day with her. One more of her rare smiles.” Moisture pushed behind her eyes and she blinked to dispel it. A self-conscious sound escaped her. “I suppose all I’m saying is that outward beauty is really rather… useless.”

He was looking at her with an odd expression-as if he’d never seen her before-and embarrassment swept through her. Good lord, once again her mouth had run amok.

“You continue to surprise me, Victoria,” he said slowly, his gaze searching hers. “And I don’t particularly care for surprises.”

She blinked, and then her eyes narrowed. “Why, thank you. I don’t know when I’ve heard such heartwarming words. Truly.”

He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Reaching out, he brushed a curl from her cheek. “Forgive me?”

As quickly as her irritation had flared, it evaporated. He sounded so sincere, and looked so serious and earnest, yet… baffled. Troubled. Perhaps there was a woman somewhere in the kingdom who could resist his softly spoken query, but she was not that woman. “Forgiven,” she whispered.

His gaze flicked to her lips, and her body quickened in anticipation of another kiss. Instead, he abruptly stood. “It’s time we headed back.”

She looked at the ground so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Her common sense applauded the decision. Sitting on a picnic blanket, sharing kisses and confidences with Nathan, was clearly not prudent. Her heart, however, yearned to spend the rest of the day right here.

These feelings were simply not part of her plan, yet she was at a loss as to how to stop them. Had it been only two days ago that she’d thought she could walk away from here, free of Nathan and unaffected by their encounter? Yes. Yet here she sat, after such a short time, already feeling anything but free and most definitely affected. If he could wreak such havoc with her plans in a mere two days, what on earth would he do in two weeks’ time?

God help her, she didn’t know if the possibilities more frightened her or thrilled her.