Shewsbury dismounted.
Nellie clutched the pommel in her right hand and turned to view him. “Oh, you wish to stop here? I thought we might ride over to…”
He tossed the reins onto a bush, walked across to her, and reached up his arms. “Allow me to assist you to dismount.”
She stared at him. What did he intend? To pick daisies? Or ravish her? Really, she should have insisted on the groom coming with them. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t often slow-witted.
His strong hands encircled her waist and lifted her down as her breath fluttered in her chest. Once she found her feet, she tucked her crop beneath her arm and stepped back from him with the pretense of ordering her long train. She felt the strength of his big warm hands on her waist. The man was so alarmingly masculine and unpredictable. Why had he ordered Barnes not to accompany them? While it would be utter folly to fear that Shewsbury might ravage her on her father’s land, especially when he had come here at Papa’s request, he did make her wonder what he might do next.
He turned away and rested a foot on a rock. While she eyed his noble profile, he stared into the water.
“Good trout fishing here?”
“My father has some success in the smaller pools.” So one could add fishing to his sporting activities. A wife might never see him. She searched for a topic of conversation. Really, this was quite awkward. “An archery contest is to be held tomorrow if it’s fine. I trust that will be to your liking.”
“Certainly.”
“And perhaps a game of croquet on Sunday?”
“Indeed.”
She puffed away a wisp of hair floating before her eyes. He was becoming annoyingly monosyllabic. When he turned back from his contemplation of the river, his thoughtful gaze on her made her fidget with her crop. “Shall we go on, Your Grace?”
“Lady Cornelia.” His eyes settled on her mouth as he approached her. “Let us not beat about the bush,” he said, distracting her with a hunting phrase.
“I beg your pardon?” What was she? Fair game?
“If you would prefer to call a halt to this engagement, you have only to say so. I will shoulder the blame, of course.”
Shocked, she stared at him. Then the onus must rest on her. His gentleman’s code was admirable, she had to admit, although it was as Marian said, not always sensible. Did he want to honor his father’s wishes or not? As he’d offered her a way out, should she take it? Her father would be up in the boughs and would never forgive her. Oh, dear, poor Mama. All that money spent on the house and gardens. And it was too soon to judge, for she hadn’t had time to… “I…” Her voice strangled in her throat. “I’m not sure, that is to say…”
“You have yet to make up your mind?” He removed her crop from her hands and threw it on the grass.
She stared up at him wide-eyed, her heart pounding. “Your Grace?”
He took her by the arms and drew her toward him. Surprised, she didn’t resist and allowed his hands to slide around her waist. He pulled her closer, her breasts resting against his chest. Not prolonged or fiercely passionate, the soft touch of his mouth on hers remained after he released her.
“Well, really, Your Grace,” she murmured with what remained of her breath. What lay behind the kiss? If it was to put her off balance, he certainly achieved it.
“Do you wish to marry me or not, Lady Cornelia?” His handsome eyes darkened as if daring her to defy him. “Or do you have some other fellow in mind?”
“I do not,” she said quickly.
She resisted the need to run her tongue over her lips. Hardly the proposal a girl dreamed of. More of a demand, really. The picture in her mind of him carrying his mistress over his shoulder made her unsteady. He was not the right man for her. She felt it in her bones. They would never understand one another. But when he kissed her, her body tightened in the strangest way, and she would not have objected had he kissed her again.
Marian said that this was the most important thing. While Nellie believed there was a lot more to marriage, she did admit it was an attractive aspect of it. As her pulse slowed, she deliberated. To refuse him now would bring the matter to an end. But she was fooling herself. It would cause an enormous fuss to refuse him. And she didn’t seem to want to. She took a deep breath.
“I will marry you, Your Grace.”
He nodded. “Charles, or Shewsbury, if you prefer.”
“My family call me Nellie.”
“Nellie,” he said as if savoring it on his tongue. His eyes seemed full of promises. She swallowed. He was devastatingly attractive. “Shall we walk?”
They followed the stream along the grassy bank, he taking her arm to help her over a puddle she could have easily jumped.
“Shall we tell your father to announce our engagement at the ball?”
“Yes.” There was no turning back. Charles had not given her much of a chance to… No, he had offered her a means to end it. Would she rue this decision to the end of her days?
She waited for the ensuing panic at the sealing of a commitment, which would change her whole life. But she felt rather warm and calm. Could he tame her with one kiss? Was that the power of the man? This wasn’t love, she reminded herself, it was, as Marian had explained to her, merely desire. Her mind refused to let go of the touch of his mouth claiming hers, his masculine scent, the strength of his arms, his commanding presence. His commanding presence? It was like a smack of cold water.
He would ride rough-shod over her. She must give up her opposition to fox hunting. Being married to a
