Love and the Single Heiress

unveiled?”

“Are you always this impatient?”

His eyes darkened. “Sometimes.”

Heavens, she wished she’d brought her fan to dispel the heat this man inspired. “Actually, you may have it right now.” She slipped a small, flat tissue-paper-wrapped bundle secured with a bit of blue satin ribbon from the pocket of her gown and handed it to him.

Surprised pleasure flared in his eyes. “A gift?”

“It’s nothing really,” she said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“On the contrary, it’s extraordinary.”

She laughed. “You haven’t opened it yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still extraordinary. How did you just happen to have this in your pocket?”

“I retrieved it from my bedchamber after I’d written my note to Philip-before I rejoined you in the foyer.”

He untied the ribbon, parted the tissue paper, then lifted the white linen square. “A handkerchief. With my initials embroidered on it.” Staring at the material, he gently rubbed his thumb over the dark blue, silk thread letters that had obviously been done by an inexpert hand.

“The night in the garden,” she said, her words coming out in a rush, “when you showed me the bleeding hearts, you didn’t have a handkerchief when you thought I was crying-not that I was crying, mind you-but since you didn’t have one, I thought perhaps you could use this.”

He said nothing for several seconds, just continued slowly to brush his thumb over the letters. Then, in a husky voice, he said, “You don’t care for needlework, yet you embroidered this for me.”

A self-conscious laugh escaped her. “I tried. As you can plainly see, embroidery is not my forte.”

He looked up and his gaze captured hers. There was no mistaking his pleasure at her gift. “It’s beautiful, Catherine. The finest gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

Warmth suffused her, then quickly turned to heat when his gaze dropped to her lips. Her breath caught, anticipating the brush of his lips against hers, his luscious taste, the silken sweep of his tongue.

Shadow chose that moment to flop himself down in front of her, belly up, paws dangling, in a shameless bid to be rubbed. With a start, Catherine recalled where they were, then pried her attention away from Andrew’s distracting gaze. She tickled her fingers over the pup’s soft belly, much to his canine delight, while Andrew tucked his new handkerchief into his pocket. “You realize that Spencer is now going to want a dog,” she said.

“Would that be so terrible?”

Catherine carefully considered before answering, then said, “As much as Spencer and I both like dogs, I’ve always feared having one.”

“Because you thought the dog might jump on him? Knock him over?”

“Yes.”She lifted her chin. “I was only trying to keep Spencer safe.”

“I wasn’t criticizing. Actually, when he was smaller, I think it was a prudent, wise decision. But Spencer is no longer a child.”

“And a man should have a dog?”

“Yes, I think he should.”

“He hasn’t brought up the subject in a number of years-although I suspect that is about to change.”

He clasped her hand, and she suppressed a sigh of pleasure at the feel of those callused fingers enclosing hers. “I saw the dogs who sired the litter, and neither one was large. Fritzborne mentioned that he’d be happy to have a dog stay in the stables if you didn’t want the beast in the house. Said a dog would keep all those cats in line.”

Catherine pondered a bit, then said, “There is no denying that Spencer is no longer a small boy. And he’s careful. Strong. Such a young man certainly deserves a puppy if he wants one.” She shook her head. “Everything seems to be changing, and so quickly. I swear it was only yesterday he was a babe in my arms.”

“Just because something seems to happen quickly, doesn’t mean it’s bad, Catherine. In my experience, it usually just means those things are… inevitable.” Before she could think up a reply, he said, “Here comes Spencer.” He withdrew his hand with clear reluctance, then reached into his waistcoat pocket and slipped out his watch. After consulting the timepiece, he looked at her with an expression that scorched her. “Seven hours and thirty-three minutes until midnight, Catherine. I pray I can last that long.”

He wasn’t the only one saying that particular prayer. Tonight their affair would reach its inevitable end. A bit sooner than she’d anticipated, but surely that was for the best.

Yes, surely it was.

Chapter 18

There are subtle, less obvious places on every man’s and woman’s body that, when touched kissed caressed, and stroked elicit strong and delightful sensations. For instance, the small of the back. The nape. Earlobes. The inside of the wrist and elbows. The back of the knees. The inner thighs. Today’s Modern Woman should strive to discover all the deliciously sensitive spots on her lover’s body and make certain he discovers all of hers…

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Andrew walked toward the springs, trying to unravel the knotty problem that still seemed to have no solution. What to do about Catherine?

Of course, he knew what he wanted to do, had taken steps toward that end in London, but his every instinct warned him it was too soon to profess his love and ask for her hand. For the hundredth time he cursed the fates that necessitated his leaving tomorrow. While he’d obviously made progress, he hadn’t had enough time to win her heart. To convince her to change her views on marriage. To find a way to tell her the truth about his past. Pray that that knowledge didn’t turn her against him. He needed time, which he unfortunately did not have.

He also needed patience, which was becoming more and more difficult to come by. He’d wanted this woman, had loved her for what seemed like an eternity. Everything in him rebelled against taking months and months to court her slowly. He wanted her now.

He greatly feared that any ground he’d gained would be lost once he left here. She’d only wanted a short-term liaison. He suspected that once she returned to her normal routine, she would not be eager to issue him a return invitation to Little Longstone. Indeed, such a visit might well turn into a source of gossip. It was one thing for him to remain a few days after escorting her here so she did not have to travel from London alone. It was quite another for him to make return trips simply to visit.

As he approached the last curve on the path before arriving at the springs, the sound of a twig snapping directly behind caught his attention. His first thought was that it was Catherine, but then he caught a subtle whiff of tobacco. He tensed and turned swiftly. Unfortunately he turned a second too late. Something crashed down on the back of his head, and his world faded to black.

Catherine stood at the edge of the springs and looked down at the gently bubbling warm water, waiting for Andrew to arrive. She’d wrapped her resolve around her like a suit of armor and tightly tethered her heart to prevent any risk of its escaping its confines. For years she’d been content with her solitary existence, sharing her life with Spencer, enjoying the waters and her gardens, her friendship with Genevieve. Andrew’s presence threatened to invade the safe haven she’d made here, stirring up all these confusing feelings, yearning, and desires she didn’t want. She desperately needed to regain her equilibrium. After tonight, she would. Tonight belonged to her and Andrew. Tomorrow they went their separate ways. And that’s the way she wanted it.

The muted sound of a twig snapping roused her, and her heart leapt in anticipation. Seconds later she heard what sounded like dull thud, followed by a low groan, then another thud.