You'll be gone from here in a fortnight. Don'trisk hurting a woman who has shown you nothing but kindness. She's an innocent country girl who doesn't know how to play the sophisticated games of love you're used to. Leave her alone!

Stephen was just about to perform an incredible, not to mention previously unheard of, noble gesture and move away from her, when her gaze drifted down to his mouth. He could practically feel the soft caress against his lips. Stifling a groan, he mentally buried his conscience in a deep grave and leaned forward until a mere hairsbreadth separated their lips.

His inner voice made one last valiant effort to speak, but he shoved it firmly aside and brushed his mouth across her full lips.

That first gentle caress, really nothing more than a mingling of breaths, left Stephen unsatisfied and hungry for more. Cupping her face between his palms, he kissed her again, his lips teasing, circling, tasting hers.

Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't the flood of sensations that engulfed him.

His blood rushed through his veins, pounding through his system like a raging river. Her flowery, feminine scent surrounded him, invading his senses, drugging him. A breathy, pleasure-filled sigh escaped her, and his body tightened in response.

Heat vibrated through him, and when she gently placed her palms against his chest, he knew she would feel his hammering heart.

Lost in her, he deepened their kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened up to him like a blooming flower, welcoming his invasion of her silky mouth. She tasted warm, and indescribably delightful.

The instant their tongues touched, Stephen felt her melt against him like wax to a flame. Emitting a low moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with equal fervor.

Her abandoned response staggered him, stealing what small control he still possessed. His loins leapt to life with a tingling throb that quickly grew into a pulsing ache. When she sweetly offered him her tongue, rubbing it slowly against his own, he groaned deep in his chest. Crushing her to him, he captured her lips in a series of long, slow, drugging kisses that sent shock waves sizzling through his entire system.

He untied the ribbon binding her silky tresses and dropped the strip of satin to the ground. Gathering the soft, fragrant waves in his hands, he entwined the strands around his fingers while his mouth plundered hers with a searing, relentless hunger.

"Stephen…" she sighed in his ear when he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck.

Hearing her moan his name in that passion-thickened voice forced another deep, aching groan from his chest. He pressed hot, urgent kisses down the long column of her neck, and when her shirt impeded his progress, he untangled his fingers from her hair and made quick work of the top several buttons.

His lips caressed the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat, then dipped lower to the sloping curves of her breasts swelling over the lacy top of her chemise. Stephen inhaled deeply, then touched his tongue to her velvety, rose-scented skin. Dear God, she felt like an angel and tasted like heaven.

While Hayley clung to his shoulders, Stephen glided his lips slowly up her throat. When his mouth once again found hers, she parted her lips, welcoming the urgent thrust of his tongue with an answering thrust of her own.

He felt as if he'd been set on fire. His palms wandered restlessly up and down her back, slipping down to cup her buttocks, hauling her up tight against his straining arousal. The feel of her full breasts crushed against his chest, nipples hardened into pinpoint crests, strained his body to the breaking point.

His control, an aspect of himself he could always rely upon, hovered on the edge of oblivion. His loins felt as tight as a fist, aching and heavy. His hands trembled with the urgent need to cup her breasts … to wander lower … inside her breeches.

Unless he planned to divest her of her clothes and lay her down right here in the rose garden, they had to stop. Now.

With great reluctance and no small amount of willpower, he raised his head and dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. He looked at her, unable to squelch his surge of masculine satisfaction at her bemused, desire-filled gaze.

"Good heavens," she said in a breathless whisper. "I had no idea kissing could be so… so…" Her voice trailed off into nothingness.

"So … what?" Stephen asked in a husky rasp he didn't recognize as his own voice. He kept her locked against him with one arm wrapped around her waist and brushed a dark curl from her flushed cheek with his other hand.

"So thrilling. So intoxicating." She sighed. "So absolutely wonderful."

"Has no one ever kissed you before?" Her unguarded, tremulous response convinced him she was innocent, but she was hardly fresh from the schoolroom. Surely someone had kissed her.

"Only Jeremy Popplemore."

"Who is Jeremy Popplemore?"

"A young man from the village. We were betrothed for a short time."

He felt like someone had just thrown a bucket of icy water on him. "Betrothed?"

"Yes."

"And he kissed you?" Stephen asked, growing more inexplicably annoyed by the minute.

Hayley nodded. "Oh, yes. Several times, in fact."

"What happened to him? Why didn't you marry?"

She hesitated before answering. "When my father died, I informed Jeremy I wouldn't leave the children once he and I wed, and he experienced a change of heart. He made it clear that while he cared for me, he had no desire to take on my entire family. He urged me to leave the children in Aunt Olivia's care, but I refused." She shook her head. "Good heavens, Aunt Olivia requires nearly as much care as Callie does. After my refusal, Jeremy traveled to the Continent. I have not seen him since, although I understand he recently returned to Halstead."

"I see." Stephen's gaze probed hers. Her eyes clearly expressed her feelings, and he easily read the hurt reflected in them.

A sudden desire to smash Jeremy Pop-whatever in his selfish face washed over him. The thought of another man kissing her, his hands touching her, filled Stephen with an unwelcome but no less powerful rush of jealous possessiveness.

"He certainly taught you how to kiss." The bastard. His frown tightened into a glowering scowl and hot anger pumped through him. Had the bastard taught her anything else?

Her eyes widened. "Oh, but Jeremy didn't …I mean, he never. We never…"

"Never what?"

"Jeremy never kissed me as you just did," she blurted out.

The violent urge to smash Jeremy Pop-whatever's face lessened considerably. "No?"

"No. You're the only one who…" She dropped her chin.

Compassion tightened his chest as he thought of her sweetly offering her heart to a callous fool, who refused her because she was too kind and loving to abandon her young siblings to the care of a dotty aunt.

He was just about to tell her that Jeremy Popincart was a fool when she gasped.

"Heavens! My shirt!" Turning her back on him, she immediately set about adjusting her clothes. "Dear God, what you must think of me."

I think you're wonderful. The thought sprang unbidden into Stephen's mind, catching him off guard. He'd never thought such a thing about any woman. Wonderful? Damn it, he must be losing his mind.

When she turned around, Stephen stifled a groan. She'd fastened her shirt incorrectly, and her hair lay about her shoulders in wild disarray. The urge to kiss her again slammed into his midsection, rendering him speechless.

"I must go," she said, her voice sounding one step from panic. "Good night." She ran down the path as if the devil himself pursued her.

Stephen expelled a pent-up breath. Her scent still surrounded him. He could still feel the imprint of her body on his.

Damn.

He'd gone out in the garden to relieve his troubled mind. Now his mind was more troubled than ever, and on top of that his body ached with relentless need. What the hell was I thinking?

But he knew what he was thinking.

And now that he'd tasted her, touched her, he didn't know how to stop thinking about it.

As far as he was concerned, resting and relaxing in the countryside was highly overrated.

In fact, all this relaxation would probably kill him.

SHAPE \* MERGEFORMAT

Chapter 10

Knowing sleep was out of the question after his interlude in the garden with Hayley, Stephen walked slowly back to the house and entered the library. He lit a lamp then headed directly for the brandy decanters where he tossed back two drinks in quick succession.

The potent liquor stole through his veins, relaxing him somewhat. Relieved, he poured another generous drink and flopped down in one of the wing chairs near the fire. What the hell am I doing?

He took another sip of the brandy and realized with no small amount of chagrin that his hands were not quite steady. He felt hot, bothered, and damned uncomfortable in his tight breeches.

He'd known kissing Hayley was a mistake, but for some unfathomable reason he had been unable to stop himself. There was something about her-something he could not define-that attracted him like a moth to a flame. Bloody hell, the woman left him shaking.

He sipped his brandy, trying to banish the memory of her in his arms. He failed miserably. She was soft. So incredibly soft and responsive. He could almost hear her sighing his name, her eyes darkening with budding passion.

With a groan, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the memory of their kiss to wash over him. He had never kissed such a tall woman before, and he had to admit that it was a unique experience. All her curves fit his frame like perfectly formed puzzle pieces. If she had not left the garden, God knows what would have happened between them.