Love and the Single Heiress

“No, we’re all very well, thank you. I’m here to make a request.”

“And it will be my honor and pleasure to grant it. If you’ll wait here for just a moment while I settle my little friend in the pen in the back, we can go inside.”

Standing in the shade offered by one of the elms, Catherine watched him disappear behind the cottage. He reappeared less than a minute later, and she carefully observed him approach. There was no denying that Dr. Oliver was handsome. Very handsome. From a strictly aesthetic viewpoint, certainly far more handsome than Mr. Stanton, who, with his rugged features and crooked nose was better described as “attractive.”

For the first time, she noted the breadth of the doctor’s shoulders. The trimness of his waist. The length of his muscular legs outlined in his snug breeches. The smoothness of his gait. With his sun-streaked brown hair and hazel eyes, he was just the sort of man to set a female heart to flutter. The fact that her heart was not fluttering only added to her desperation and strengthened her resolve. It would flutter soon enough.

When they entered his small, but tastefully furnished drawing room, he asked, “Would you like some tea, Lady Catherine?”

“No, thank you.”

He indicated the pair of brocade wing chairs flanking the marble fireplace. “If you’d care to sit-”

“I prefer to stand.”

His brows shot upward in a questioning look, but he merely nodded. “Very well. How may I be of service to you?”

Now that the moment was upon her, Catherine’s courage sagged. Good Lord, surely she was mad to have embarked on this errand. But then she thought of the Guide, of all its liberating precepts, and she stiffened her spine. Today’s Modern Woman seizes the day. Is forthright in what she wants. And she knew what she wanted. She had a point to prove to herself, and by damn, she was determined, desperate, to prove it.

She raised her chin. “Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

He stared at her intently for what felt like an eternity, as if trying to see into her mind. When he finally moved, instead of drawing her into an embrace, he lightly clasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Why do you want me to kiss you?”

Catherine barely resisted the urge to tap out her impatience against the parquet floor with her shoe. Good heavens, nothing in the Guide had suggested a man might ask such a question.

“Because I…”want to know, need to know, must know if another man can make me feel the things he does…. “because I’m curious.” There. That was certainly true.

“Curious to see if you might feel something warmer toward me than merely friendship?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I could easily satisfy your curiosity without kissing you, but only a fool would turn down such an enticing offer. And I must admit, I’m curious myself…”

He drew her into his arms and settled his lips upon hers. She rested her hands upon his chest and rose on her toes, a willing participant. Obviously the good doctor was well versed in the art of kissing-but he did not set her heart to fluttering. Not even a tiny bit. His lips were warm and firm, but they did not generate the fiery sensations Andrew inspired with a mere look.

Oh dear.

He lifted his head, then slowly released her. After studying her for several seconds, he stepped back and regarded her with surprise. “Rather sparkless, wouldn’t you agree?”

She felt her cheeks blaze. “I’m afraid so.”

“So, has your curiosity been satisfied?”

Self-recriminations rained down on Catherine, filling her with shame at using him in such an unkindly manner. Good Lord, what sort of person had she become? She wasn’t certain-but she knew she didn’t like herself very well.

Heat born of mortification singed her. The fact that he’d found their kiss as lacking as she clearly indicated that he did not carry a tendre for her at all. And she’d just thrown herself at him. Like a common trollop. She would have laughed at her own conceit if she’d been able to do so. Instead she prayed for a gaping hole miraculously to appear in the floor to swallow her. Retreat, her mind screamed. Retreat!

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I-”

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand perfectly. I confess that I once kissed a woman in order to compare my reaction to another. Indeed, I believe it’s a very common practice. Rather like sampling both strawberry and blueberry jam to determine which you prefer.”

His good humor and understanding only served to make her feel worse. Again her mind commanded her to retreat, but before she could move, he said, “Do not look so distressed, Lady Catherine. From the moment I arrived in Little Longstone six months ago you offered me a friendship I value highly. You have invited me into your home to share meals and laughter, and except for this tiny aberration have never given me false hope that we could ever be anything more than friends-an aberration I appreciate as it satisfied my own curiosity. We are destined to be only friends.” He skimmed the pad of his thumb over his lips and winked. “Better friends than most, but still only friends.”

Eternally grateful that he was behaving so graciously, and that she had not humiliated herself further, she forced a smile, and said, “Thank you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“As am I.” He lightly tapped his jaw. “I just hope he doesn’t try to break this.”

“Who? Break what?”

“Andrew Stanton. And my jaw. He would not be happy should he discover I kissed you.” He grinned. “But I’m confident I’d be able to talk him out of pounding me into dust. If not, well, he may be strong, but I’ve a few tricks of my own.”

If her cheeks burned any hotter, her skin would emit steam. She inched her way backward, toward the open doorway, everything in her straining for retreat. “I must go. Thank you for your kindness and understanding.”

“My pleasure.” He escorted her to the front door, and Catherine walked swiftly down the path leading toward Bickely cottage. The moment she was certain she was out of Dr. Oliver’s line of vision, she pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, praying she’d not suffer an illness anytime in the near future because it would be a long while before she could face the doctor again.

Before riding on to Bickley cottage, Andrew stopped briefly in the village of Little Longstone to make some purchases. Just as he was about to enter the smithy, an odd sensation prowled through him. He turned around, his gaze panning the area. Rows of shops, several dozen pedestrians, a curricle with a man and a young girl perched upon the seat, two young ladies chatting under a blue-and-white-striped awning. No one appeared to be paying him any particular attention, yet he strongly sensed that someone was watching him. And it was the second time today he’d experienced the same sensation.

About an hour ago, while still en route from London, he’d felt the same warning tingle. He’d reined in Aphrodite, but had not seen or heard anyone. Still, the eerie feeling persisted, and even stronger than before. But who would be watching him? And why? Was it possible he was imagining it? He couldn’t deny he was tired, and many thoughts occupied his mind. No doubt it was just his preoccupation run amuck. Still, he’d make certain to remain alert.

After finishing his business with the blacksmith, Andrew rode to Bickely cottage, where he spent a few minutes chatting with Fritzborne at the stables before striding quickly across the lawns toward the house, eager to see Catherine and Spencer. He’d keenly missed them, suffering a deep, echoing emptiness that had plagued him since departing Little Longstone yesterday. Returning felt like coming home-a warm feeling he hadn’t experienced in more than a decade.

Late-afternoon sunshine gilded the house, making it look as if a halo surrounded the dwelling, and he quickened his pace. He’d been away for a mere thirty-six hours, yet it had felt like years. No doubt because it was actually thirty-seven hours. And twenty-two minutes. Not that he was counting.

Milton opened the door with a forbidding frown, which immediately relaxed when he saw Andrew standing at