He was gazing out over Beth’s head towards the trees and the graveyard beyond, but he was focused on nothing. ‘I…er…I have decided that I must remarry. It is essential, given my position in society. There needs to be a Countess of Portbury. And…er-’ He glanced down into Beth’s face at that moment. She saw the hint of embarrassment in his eyes, though he was not blushing.
Beth’s emotions might be in confusion, but she was not fool enough to mistake his meaning. He needed a wife, and then a son.
‘I have considered carefully. I find I do not hold with these new-fangled notions of love.’ He was trying to sound matter of fact and uncaring. Perhaps, when it came to marriage, he was both of those? ‘I do not believe in such things. A man must choose a partner who suits him in every way-a lady who will grace his table and take charge of his household, a lady who will create a comfortable, restful home, a refuge where a man can take his ease.’
A refuge? It was clearly of huge importance to Jonathan. Beth was not quite sure why that should be. Perhaps it was to do with his time in Spain? It was strange that such a strong man could also seem so vulnerable.
He took a deep breath. It would be now. He was going to tell her the name of the lady he had chosen to share his peaceful refuge. ‘I can tell from your face that I am making a mull of this. Forgive me. It is not often a man puts such thoughts into words. I was trying only to describe…to set out what I seek. I would not, for the world, mislead you about my motives.’ Abruptly, he took both her hands in his. It was a gesture of kindness, the gesture of one friend to another. But now he was silent, waiting for her to speak.
Beth gulped. ‘I…I never doubted your intentions, sir,’ she said. It was a rather bald reassurance, but it was the most she could manage.
‘No, you would not. You see good in everything, and everyone.’
Beth felt the beginnings of heat on her neck. Such a simple compliment, but she was blushing. He was still holding her hands in his. She looked down at them, just as he gave her fingers a tiny squeeze. That was a shock. Beth jerked her gaze up from their clasped hands to his face.
‘Beth, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Her mouth fell open, but no words came out. Her head began to spin. Soon she was swaying on her feet.
He caught her by the shoulders as she staggered, and then he steered her to the bench beneath the massive beech. Its leaves were beginning to turn brown, but most of them still clung to the parent tree. He guided her onto the seat and unceremoniously pushed her head down between her knees. ‘I have shocked you. It was not my intention.’
After a few moments, she straightened. Her eyes were very wide, and very dark in her ashen face. ‘It is unkind of you to make a may-game of me, sir.’ Her voice cracked. She looked away.
Good God! She did not believe he meant those words, the most difficult for any man to utter. Jon had been standing over her, watching her, worrying. Now, he threw himself on to the seat beside her and seized both her hands. He was not about to let them go until he had received his answer.
‘Beth, I value your good opinion far too much to do any such thing. We are friends, surely? Friends do not… Beth, I would never mock you. My proposal is utterly sincere. You are the most restful woman of my acquaintance. I know it is a rather bloodless union that I am offering you, but there must be honesty between us. I will not attempt to dupe you with false protestations of love. For you are not an empty-headed chit who takes her notions from the pages of the latest romantic novel. You are sensible, and practical. I had hoped that my offer would tempt you: a home of your own where you could be mistress; a proper station in society. It would give you certainty, Beth. You would have your rightful place. Will you have me?’
She jerked her hands out of his with a sound that could have been a strangled sob. She surged to her feet as if she were about to flee, but at the last moment, she turned back to him, holding up one small white hand to prevent him from rising. ‘There can be no certainty for me, my lord. I am nothing, nobody. I have no name but the one the Aubreys were kind enough to lend to me. I am no fit wife for any gentleman. And certainly
She had become as rigid as the beech trunk at Jon’s back. He realised he had been clinging to a vision of his comfortable life with her. He had seen Beth there by the fireplace, sitting quietly opposite him, but he had never once considered that she might not share his longing for a peaceful refuge. In truth, he had not considered her at all. He scrutinised her features carefully now, for the first time in a long while. She was holding herself together by sheer force of will. She was affronted by his proposal, and deeply hurt. In a moment, she would regain enough strength to flee. Unless…
Ignoring her still outstretched hand, he stood up and put his arms around her. Since she did not believe a word he said, he had best try something other than words.
He kissed her.
It was Jon’s first real kiss in a long time. He brushed his lips over hers, very lightly, unsure of how she might react. Her lips parted, and he felt the warmth of a tiny sigh on his skin, as if she had been waiting for his touch, holding her breath. And yet her response was hesitant, the response of an innocent girl. She did not have the way of kissing.
A strange feeling surged through Jon, an unfathomable mixture of pride and possession. He was almost sure that Beth Aubrey had never been kissed before. And yet she was trying to respond to him. Her head might be telling her that Jon’s proposal was a wicked jest, but her warm body and her soft mouth wanted to reach for him. Jon stopped trying to analyse her reactions and gave himself up to the simple pleasure of kissing her. He wrapped her even more snugly against his body and put a hand to the back of her head, holding her still so that he could explore. He feathered tiny kisses along her bottom lip. She tasted of coffee, and sweetness. He risked a bolder touch, putting the tip of his tongue to the tiny sighing gap between her lips. This time it was no sigh, but a groan he heard, from deep within her. That was too much.
He deepened the kiss. Now she truly did respond. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck. She opened her lips to welcome him in. Desire swept through Jon’s body. There could be something between them after all, more than mere companionship. They would sit restfully together by the fire, no doubt, but he fancied the getting of an heir could be pleasurable for them both.
It was as if her body were relaxing into a bath of warm, scented water, which lapped over her limbs and caressed her flesh. She was floating. Yet she had never been so alive. Her skin, all over-from her cheek to her throat to her breasts to her belly-was awake, reaching and yearning. She wanted him to touch her. Everywhere.
She drove her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head and pushed her body closer into his embrace. She could feel the strength of him, held in check, restrained so as not to alarm her. But it was there, none the less, a warm, reassuring strength. She could feel that what had begun as a simple kiss was turning into something much more demanding. He desired her.
That sudden awareness brought her back to grim reality as surely as if he had scrubbed handfuls of snow on to her naked skin. She pulled her hands down to his chest and pushed hard, with balled fists. She tore her mouth from his. The moment her lips were free, she cried out. ‘No!’
The reaction was instantaneous. His hand had been in her hair, holding her steady for the exploration of his lips and tongue, but he did not try to restrain her. He dropped his hands to his sides and took a very deliberate step away from her.
Beth clasped her hands together very tightly. She refused to let them shake. ‘My lord, you-’
‘Jonathan. My name is Jonathan.’ He did not move to close the space between them, but his gaze softened and the merest hint of a smile curved his lips as he looked down at Beth. ‘Jon,’ he said, in a deeper, warmer voice.
He was asking her to use his given name? She shook her head vehemently, trying to clear her thoughts. He had proposed. He
‘Beth?’ He was uncertain, too. She could hear it in his voice. He raised his right hand, palm up, and offered it. ‘Beth, will you have me?’
She dared one look at his face, but she could not read his expression. Whatever his emotions, he was managing to conceal them. All she knew was that his proposal must be sincere. ‘It is impossible!’ she burst out. ‘You know it is so!’
