“And where was he off to this morning?”

“To see our little niece, Rose,” the earl replied, pausing before a wooden stile. “Had I been able, I’d have moved this appointment to join him, but there are several people interested in Willow Bend.”

“Or so the land agent told you.”

“Repeatedly and emphatically. Had I coordinated more closely with Val, though, he could have at least escorted us for much of the distance. Welbourne is not far from Willow Bend.”

“Do you like children?” The stile was level at the top, so Anna settled on it, the better to watch his smile disappear at the question when he took a seat beside her.

“Babies rather intimidate me, as one can drop them, and they break, but yes, I like children. I am not particularly charming, as Val is, but children don’t mind that. They want honest regard, much like a good horse does.”

“But Rose was not much taken with you?”

“More to the point, Rose’s mother, to whom His Grace would have seen me wed, was not much taken with me, and in the way of children, Rose comprehended that as clearly as I did.”

They fell silent, sitting side by side, until Anna felt the earl’s hand steal over hers to rest there.

“Today, I am going to call you Anna, and you are going to permit me to do so, please? We will be congenial with each other and forget I am the earl and you are my housekeeper. We will enjoy a pleasant morning in the country, Anna, with none of your frowning and scolding. This is agreeable to you?”

“We will share a lovely morning in the country,” Anna agreed, wanting nothing so much as to start that morning by letting her head rest against his shoulder. It was a wicked impulse and would give him all the wrong ideas.

“And seal our agreement”—the earl shifted to stand before her—“with a kiss.”

He gave her time to wiggle off the hook, to hop down off the stile and dash past him, to deliver a little lecture even, but she sat, still as a mouse, while he framed her face with his bare hands and brought his lips to hers. He propped one booted foot on the stile and leaned over her as his mouth settled fully over hers.

While Anna’s common sense tried to riot, the earl was in no hurry, exploring the fullness of her lips with his own, then easing away to run his nose along her hairline, then cruising back over her mouth on the way to kissing the side of her neck.

Her common sense gave a last, despairing whimper and went silent, because Anna liked that, that business of him nuzzling and kissing at her neck, at the soft flesh below her ear, at the place where her neck met her shoulder. He must have liked it, too, as he spent long minutes learning the various flavors of her nape and throat, the spots that were ticklish and the spots he could soothe with his tongue and lips.

She swayed into him, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck for support, wishing she’d thought—as he had—to take off her gloves. Oh, she knew nothing of the details of being wicked, nothing at all except that with him, she liked it. She liked the way she felt more alive wherever he touched, liked the way her insides melted at the scent and taste of him. Liked the feel of his long, muscular body so close to hers.

Anna felt a hairpin plink against her cheek and made herself draw back.

“Oh dear.” She stared up at him, dumbstruck by the heat in his green eyes. “Dear, dear, dear.”

The earl looked down and traced a finger along the slope of her breast to pluck the hairpin from her dress. He held it out to her, smiling as if he were presenting her with a flower.

“I may be feeling winded,” he said, offering her his arm, “but by now Pericles should be well rested.”

Anna took his arm, glancing over at him cautiously. The sensation of his finger sliding down her breast had been enough to make her heart kick against her ribs. God in heaven, he knew how to touch a woman, but it didn’t seem to wind him at all, contrary to his words.

“You are quiet, Anna,” he remarked as they climbed aboard and gained the road.

“I am overwhelmed,” she said. “I think I must be a very wicked woman, my… What do I call you?”

The earl urged Pericles to the trot. “Today, you call me whatever pleases you, but why do you say you are wicked?”

“I should be remonstrating you, making you behave, chiding you for your lapses,” Anna informed him, warming to her topic. “Our lapses. But my self-restraint has departed for the Orient, I suppose, and all I want…”

“All you want?” The earl kept his eyes on the empty road.

“Is to forget every pretense of common sense.” Anna completed the thought, and now—now that he was all cool composure beside her—she was uncomfortable with herself. “To share more lapses with you.”

“I would like that, Anna,” he replied simply. “If it would please you to lapse with me, then I would enjoy it, too.”

“It can’t lead to anything,” Anna said miserably, “except more and worse mischief.”

The earl glanced over at her but had to keep some focus on the road. “Why not just enjoy these hours as we choose to spend them? I will not take liberties you deny me, Anna, not today, not ever. But for today, I will enjoy your company to the fullest extent you allow, and I will do so without regard to whether today leads to something or merely rests in memory as a pleasurable few hours spent in your company.”

Anna fell silent, considering his words. If Westhaven’s brother Victor could have had such a morning, able to breathe without coughing, would he have fretted over a few kisses leading to nothing, or would he have seized the hours as a gift? Knowing he could well have been riding to his death in the next battle, would Lord Bartholomew have demurred, or would he have stashed a bottle of wine in the hamper?

“And now,” Anna said after a time, “you are quiet.”

“It is a pretty morning.” He smiled at her, including her in that prettiness. “I am in good company, and we are about a pleasant errand. Just to be away from Town, away from Tolliver’s infernal correspondence, and away from Stenson’s grasping fingers is reason to rejoice.”

“I could not abide the touch of someone I did not like,” Anna said, grimacing.

“So I do my best to stay out of his reach and to bellow like the duke when he transgresses,” Westhaven said. “He is getting better, but tell me, Anna, did you just indirectly admit to liking me?”

She drew in a swift breath and saw from his expression that while he was teasing, he was also… fishing.

“Of course I like you. I like you entirely too well, and it is badly done of you to make me admit it.”

“Well, let’s go from bad to worse, then, and you can tell me precisely why you like me.”

“You are serious?”

“I am. If you want, I will return the favor, though we have only several hours, and my list might take much longer than that.”

He is flirting with me, Anna thought, incredulous. In his high-handed, serious way, the Earl of Westhaven had just paid her a flirtatious compliment. A lightness spread out from her middle, something of warmth and humor and guilty pleasure in it.

“All right.” Anna nodded briskly. “I like that you are shy and honorable in the ways that count. I like that you are kind to Morgan, and to your animals, and old Nanny Fran. You are as patient with His Grace as a human can be, and you adore your brother. You are fierce, too, though, and can be decisive when needs must. You are also, I think, a romantic, and this is no mean feat for a man who spends half his days with commercial documents. Mostly, I like that you are good; you look after those who depend on you, you have gratitude for your blessings, and you don’t think enough of yourself.”

Beside her, the earl was again silent.

“Shall I go on?” Anna asked, feeling a sudden awkwardness.

“You could not possibly pay me any greater series of compliments than you just have,” he said. “The man you describe is a paragon, a fellow I’d very much like to meet.”

“See?” Anna nudged him with her shoulder. “You do not think enough of yourself. But I can also tell you the parts of you that irritate me—if that will make you feel better?”

“I irritate you?” The earl’s eyebrows rose. “This should be interesting. You gave me the good news first, fortifying me for more burdensome truths, so let fly.”

“You are proud,” Anna began, her tone thoughtful. “You don’t think your papa can manage anything correctly, and you won’t ask your brothers nor mother nor sisters even, for help with things directly affecting them. I wonder, in fact, if you have anybody you would call a friend.”

“Ouch. A very definite ouch, Anna. Go on.”

“You have forgotten how to play,” Anna said, “how to frolic, though I cannot fault you for a lack of appreciation for what’s around you. You appreciate; you just don’t seem to… indulge yourself.”

“I see. And in what should I indulge myself?”

“That is for you to determine,” she replied. “Marzipan has gone over well, I think, and sweets in general. You have indulged your love of music by having Val underfoot. As to what else brings you pleasure, you would be the best judge of that.”

The earl turned down a shady lane lined with towering oaks and an understory of rhododendrons in vigorous bloom.

“It was you,” he said. “Before Val moved in, I thought it was a neighbor playing the piano late in the evenings, but it was you. Were you playing for me?”

Anna glanced off to the park beyond the trees and nodded.

“It seemed somebody should. Nanny Fran said you have a marvelous singing voice, and you play well yourself, but you’d stopped playing or singing when Bart died.”