Oh, he wasn’t poor by any means, yet neither was he wealthy, nor did he aspire to be. Three years ago he’d thought money important enough to risk everything, and the result had cost him dearly. Had nearly cost Colin and Gordon their lives. Now his riches came in the form of his peaceful, modest life in Little Longstone. Victoria’s world existed in an orbit far above and beyond his-an orbit that did not intersect his at any point. Yet, still the words echoed through his mind and heart: I love her.

Double bloody hell. He loved her. Her wit and charm. Her smile and determination. Her courage, intelligence, and kindness. The way she challenged him. The way she made him feel. She’d captivated him the instant he saw her three years ago, and he’d spent the intervening time convincing himself that she was nothing more than a spoiled hothouse flower. That the chemistry he’d felt between them had merely been a figment of his imagination. Now, with the passage of only two days, she’d knocked aside his perceptions, proving not only that there was much more to her than he’d supposed, but that the chemistry he’d imagined between them had been no mistake. If she could do that to him in a matter of days, what havoc might she wreak upon him in a matter of weeks?

Good God. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to fall in love with a demure country chit who enjoyed the same simple things he did, the same modest lifestyle. Not a Society diamond who thrived in the glittering world he eschewed. A woman who would return to her fancy life in London and leave him behind with nothing more than memories and a broken heart.

Surely he’d simply taken temporary leave of his senses. He brightened at the thought. Yes, an aberration, that’s all this madness was. A post coital quirk that would clear up as soon as he put some distance between.

“Nathan… are you all right?”

Her soft voice yanked him from his thoughts. She was looking up at him with a concerned, confused expression.

No. “Yes. I’m fine.” I’m anything but. And it’s entirely your fault. He eased off her, then strode to the hearth to pick up the forgotten towels. At the wash basin he quickly cleansed himself, keeping his back to her. Fifteen feet now separated them. He pulled in a deep breath, relieved when he felt his self-possession seep back into his veins. Excellent. Just as he’d suspected, all he needed was to put a bit of distance between them. How could he possibly be expected to think properly while she lay naked beneath him? He couldn’t. But now he could. A distraction-that’s all she was. A beautiful, rose-scented distraction. Relief suffused him. Thank God everything was once again back in perspective.

After wringing the excess water from the towel, he turned back. His gaze met Victoria’s from across the room, and his relief and perspective vanished like a poof of smoke in a windstorm.

He loved her.

Bloody hell.

With a calm he was far from feeling, he walked back to the bed with the dampened towel. Resting one hip on the mattress, he gently bathed away the evidence of their spent passion. He forced himself to concentrate on the task and not look into her eyes, for fear she’d read his feelings, discover what his heart longed to proclaim but could not: I love you.

A fissure of annoyance at himself edged through him. Damn it, during his years in service to the Crown, he’d perfected the art of lying. Hiding his emotions behind an unreadable mask. It wouldn’t be difficult to call upon those skills again. You‘re not that man anymore, his inner voice whispered. No, he wasn’t. And he never wanted to be that man again. But for however long she remained in Cornwall, he’d have to pretend to be.

Setting aside the used towel, he drew up the sheet around her. Only after her pale naked beauty was covered did he dare look at her. And everything inside him stilled.

Her eyes were wide with distress and glistened with unshed tears. Her lower lip quivered, delivering a blow to his heart. “I’ve displeased you,” she whispered.

He lightly clasped her fingers, stilling them from fidgeting with the counterpane and inwardly cursed himself for giving her the wrong impression. “No. God, no.”

She lifted her chin in that way of hers he found so endearing, but even that show of bravado couldn’t hide the hurt and confusion in her gaze. “I’m not blind, Nathan. If I’ve done something to disappoint you, I want you to tell me what it is.”

“Nothing,” he said, bringing her hands to his lips and pressing a fervent kiss against the backs of her fingers. “I swear it. If anything you pleased me too much.” He forced a crooked smile. “You quite unraveled me, my dear, which I fear surprised me.”

A bit of the worry faded from her eyes with dawning comprehension. “And you don’t like surprises.”

“I confess I find them… unsettling. But in this particular case, I found it enchanting.”

There was no mistaking her relief. “I could say the same, you know.”

“You could-or you are?” he teased.

She laughed, and he felt as if the sun emerged from behind the clouds. “Was that a shameful bid for a compliment?”

He blew out an exaggerated put-upon sigh. “I’d force myself to listen to any accolades you might wish to toss my way.”

“Very well. I believe I now know what it is you do best.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And I’d very much like for you to show me again.”

He turned over her hand and kissed her palm. “What if I told you that I still hadn’t demonstrated what I do best?”

The way her eyes widened and darkened fired pure lust through him. She sat up and the sheet fell away, exposing her breasts. “Then I most definitely am anxious to discover what it is you do do best.”

Reaching out, he teased his fingers over her rosy nipples, watching them tighten, his body experiencing the same pull of want. “I certainly know what you do best, Victoria.”

She arched into his hand and sighed. “What is that?”

“You captivate-by simply entering a room. You fascinate-with your unexpected facets. You enchant-with a single smile. You seduce-with nothing more than a look.”

“That’s four things,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“And you excel at all of them.”

She sifted her fingers through his hair then urged his head toward hers. “Kiss me,” she said, an impatient edge to her voice.

Biting back a smile, he allowed her to pull him closer. He brushed his lips over hers, then traced the fullness of her lower lip with his tongue. “You’re very demanding, you know.”

“I’ve decided it’s far more effective than being demur.”

He instantly recalled their first kiss and her impatient one word response: Again. “Were you ever demur?”

She leaned back and a look of confusion passed over her features. “I don’t know. I know I am expected to be. But tossing out demands-I like it. Before I started doing so, I was simply patted on the head and relegated to the corner like an ornamental object.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she leaned forward. “Again.”

“It would be my pleasure.” But even as his lips met hers and he pressed her back onto the mattress and covered her body with his, he knew that the pleasure they’d share in the days to come would leave him with the pain of a broken heart.

Nineteen

If Today’s Modern Woman is in a situation where she must choose between two or more gentlemen, she will likely find the practical nature of her mind at war with the emotional nature of her heart. In such cases she must ask herself, is it best to choose based on financial and social considerations or to follow the desires of her heart?


A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore


Victoria hurried down the corridor toward her bedchamber, filled with a giddy, heady sense of anticipation. By previous agreement, Nathan had retired shortly after dinner, while she remained with Aunt Delia and Nathan’s father in the drawing for a quarter hour, after which time she, too, retired. But sleep was definitely not in her plans. Nathan… Had an entire week passed since that first night he’d come to her room? It seemed the time had gone by in a blink-time during which they’d been unsuccessful at locating the jewels, but had in every other way proven fulfilling beyond her wildest dreams.

Using the grid map Nathan had devised, they spent the days systematically inspecting each section, exploring dozens of rock outcroppings, searching in crevices and small caves, looking for a shape that resembled the picture she had drawn. As each square on the map was eliminated, Victoria’s hopes that they’d locate the missing cache faded a bit more. Further hindering their attempts, they’d as yet received no response from her father to Nathan’s letter, but given the distance to London, that was to be expected.

Nathan never strayed far from her side during their outings, always wary of them being set upon again. At his insistence, he’d hidden a small lady’s pistol for her protection in the tool bag containing their hammers and chisels. The fact that there were no further instances renewed their optimism that the brigand who’d stolen the fake note and map was indeed far away on a wild goose chase and had not deduced that he possessed erroneous information.

Those hours spent searching for the jewels were also hours together with Nathan. Laughing, learning, talking, discovering new facets of him and of herself. She brought him to the gardens and taught him to make a mud pie-then led him to a dark corner in the conservatory and had her wicked way with him. He brought her to the beach and taught her to make a sand castle-then led her to the crystal cave and had his wicked way with her. He took her for a ride on the lake in his small boat and taught her to row. She learned not only how to work the oars but that standing up in a rowboat is not wise if one wishes not to capsize. That directly led to her discovery that the temperature of a chilly lake is gloriously forgotten while making love in the water-and instantly recalled once the heat of passion is spent.