“Take her directly home,” he yelled at the driver before turning to Marissa. “I may have to beg a ride.” Haddon’s voice vibrated down into her skin, dispelling the cold and warming her from the inside out.
“Why don’t you just go?” Marissa didn’t want his help. Nor was this about her hat. “Elderly widow that I am, I’m fairly certain I can retrieve this hat myself.”
“I believe the term she used was older widow. I’ve no intention of leaving you here alone, jumping around like a mad hare.” He looked back at his carriage which was pulling away now with Jordana tucked safely inside.
“There’s no need, Haddon. Truly.” She made another leap at the ribbon fluttering just out of her reach.
“You realize, Marissa, that no matter how hard you jump, you won’t be able to catch it.”
Marissa shot him a murderous look and continued to leap toward the branch, fingers spread to catch at the fluttering piece of ribbon.
An older widow. An appropriate chaperone. Is that all I am?
Isn’t that all she wished to be to him?
“Christ, Marissa. It’s only a hat.”
I called him a dalliance, which is so far from the truth. I suppose we’re even now.
Rain began to pelt them, the droplets big and fat. The wind blew, no longer in sharp bursts but in steady, chilling gusts. They would both catch cold if they didn’t leave soon.
“I don’t need your help.” Looking down at the rain spotting her dress and dripping down her shoulders in rivulets, with the hat ruined, and her hair sliding from its pins, Marissa gave a small cry of frustration.
Now she appeared to be an older bedraggled widow.
Haddon swept past her. Taking off his coat, he nestled it around her shoulders and handed her his own hat.
Marissa shivered in pleasure as the coat fell over her. The fabric was still warm from his body and smelled deliciously spicy, just like Haddon.
“I’ll fetch it, Marissa. Your carriage is just down there. I’ll get your hat and then see you home.”
“No . . . I mean you don’t have to.”
Haddon ignored her and began to scramble up the tree as if he’d been born to climb. His shirt was soaking wet, the fabric clinging to the sculpted lines of his back and arms. There was no hesitation as he made his way up the tree, each movement imbued with graceful agility, sure and confident. He reached the branch from which her little hat dangled in a matter of seconds. Haddon would rival Brendan in his ability to climb. Her eyes lovingly traced every muscular line of his body, noting the way the rain made the ends of his hair curl about the collar of his shirt.
What had Adelia said? That Haddon had the look of a Viking marauder? Seeing him like this, a man against the elements, Marissa could well imagine him scaling the side of a castle with an axe clutched in one hand.
Desire for Haddon burst over her, settling with a dull, insistent ache between her thighs. It was going to be very difficult to resist him after such a masculine display.
A rumble of thunder shook the park followed by a quick flash of lightning.
“Hurry!” Marissa glanced around, unsurprised to find they were the only ones still there, besides her driver who was leading the carriage in their direction. “I don’t care to be struck by lightning.” Nor have Haddon become injured. Because she’d wanted that stupid hat and he’d gone to get it. For her.
Haddon was still hanging from the tree, cheeky grin in place, rain sluicing down his striking cheekbones. He deftly snagged her hat and waved it at her, clearly showing off.
Marissa’s pulse skipped in an unbearable rhythm, her entire being aching with longing for him, along with something so much more complicated.
Water dripped down the lean lines of his body as he jumped from the tree and jogged in her direction. Haddon was smiling, his teeth brilliant against the light tan of his skin, proud of himself for rescuing her hat.
“Haddon,” she whispered, looking into his beautiful face. “You bloody idiot.”
He stood before her, bowing in the rain, before holding out her very ruined hat. When she reached for the brim, he jerked the hat back, making her fall against him.
And then he kissed her.
10
Trent hadn’t meant to kiss her.
I couldn’t help myself.
Marissa was so beautiful, waiting for him with raindrops caught on her lashes and in the dark curls of her hair. He’d just made himself promise to tread lightly with her. Allow her to set the pace to their courtship.
Of course, she had no idea he was courting her. Marissa was far too busy being annoyed over Lady Christina Sykes. As if he would ever prefer any other woman to her.
She shivered at the light touch of his mouth on hers but didn’t pull away. On the contrary, a growl of pleasure escaped Marissa, a wholly feminine sound of desire which only hardened the length of his cock now clearly outlined in his wet trousers. Her lips tasted of tea and lemon. A hint of ginger. Delicious and warm.
He’d never wanted anyone or anything quite so badly in his entire life.
Only their mouths touched, the hat crushed and ruined between them. When he pulled away, Marissa’s eyes fluttered open. The pools of sapphire shimmered in the rain like the depths of the deepest lake in the Peak District. There were tiny creases at the corners of her eyes which only made her more precious to him. Trent had the urge to press his lips to each groove but thought better of it.
“I fear your hat is ruined, my lady.”
She blinked, moisture dripping from her lashes, looking at Trent as if seeing him for the first time.
“We should get out of the rain, Marissa.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Good Lord, what am I thinking?”
He took her hand and ran with her across the slick grass
