“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.

Fourteen

Today’s Modern Woman must understand that men often say one thing and mean another. For example, “Would you like to accompany me for a moonlight stroll” means, “I want to kiss you.” However, when a man says, “I want you,” there can be no mistaking his meaning. The only question is whether or not the lady will want him as well.


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


Three hours after arriving back at Creston Manor and leaving Victoria in the drawing room with her aunt, Nathan still paced the confines of his bedchamber, his thoughts knotted like a hopelessly tangled ball of yarn. He should be concentrating on figuring out where the jewels might be hidden. Should actually be out looking for them. But he’d given his word not to conduct any searches without Victoria, and spending more time in her company right now was simply not a good idea. Not when his command over himself teetered so close to the edge. Bloody hell, she’d set him on fire. Simply by sitting on a blanket. Watching her eat had proven an exercise in torture, requiring a monumental effort not to fling their meal aside and simply snatch her into his arms. He’d thought that lying back, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see her would help, but his reclined position had only served to make him burn to pull her on top of him.