of him and their marriage from her soul. She wanted to live her life rather than being defined by the old one.
Hattie stood up straight, and brushed the tears from her eyes. ‘I’ll live. Whatever happens. No one is going to laugh at me again. At the same time as writing me letters of sweet promise, Charles mocked me in those to his mistress. She showed them to me. Sometimes even now, I wake up in a sweat remembering the phrases. That stops now. I start living the life I was meant to.’
She picked up the candle and started down the hallway to her room. Kit did not need her to play nurse. She was through with being pathetic. She would be strong and aloof. She’d do her duty. And then she’d start to follow her dreams.
‘Hattie? Harriet? Wait.’
She continued to walk towards the stairs, pretending she had not heard him call. The great Kit Foxton could survive the night without her panting over him, like some love-starved widow.
‘Wait.’ The note of despair tore at her heart.
She half-turned and saw him standing in the doorway of the sickroom with tousled hair and a shadow of beard on his chin. The voluminous white nightshirt revealed his muscular calves and bare feet. And where on any other man it would have looked ridiculous, somehow, on Kit, it highlighted his absolute masculinity.
‘You were supposed to stay in bed.’
‘You were supposed to stay by my side.’ He gave the semblance of a smile. ‘Looking after me. My nurse flees—what choice do I have but to go after her?’
Despite her misgivings, a hot spark smouldered its way around her insides. She wanted to touch his skin and see if it was silky smooth. If she took one step towards him, she’d be in his arms. She curled her hand into a tight fist about the candlestick and turned away from the enticing picture.
‘It is late. Back to bed with you,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘And if I don’t get some sleep, I will be in no fit state tomorrow. Tomorrow is sure to bring a steady stream of visitors, well-wishers and the downright curious. Your exploits will be picked over for days to come. The talk of the village.’
‘I prefer to think of it as heroics. Don’t disabuse me of the notion.’
‘Heroics, if you must, but now is not the time for you to be up.’
‘I wouldn’t be if you acted sensibly and stayed. I believe I offended you. It wasn’t my intention.’
‘It is nothing to do with you. Nothing at all. I’m tired. I need to rest.’ Hattie concentrated on keeping the candle steady. ‘If you need someone, I’ll wake Mrs Hampstead.’
She hoped he thought her voice stern and unyielding. To her ears, it sounded hopelessly breathless.
‘Come here.’ His voice allowed for no refusal.
Hattie took a step towards the stairs. Her stomach tensed. If she started towards him, she’d be in his arms, begging for his touch. And she already knew that was a hopeless cause. ‘That wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘I’ve gone beyond what you consider a good idea or not, Harriet.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Come here. Let me see your face. All I can see is the light from the candle.’
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and straightened her skirt. He was too far away and the candlelight hid her upset state. ‘No one calls me Harriet.’
‘I know. It is why I am doing so.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ve no wish to frighten you. Come back and talk to me.’
‘Why should I?’
‘I had no idea about your husband’s betrayal. I thought your prim reserve was from a different cause. I’m sorry.’
‘It served my purpose.’ Hattie raised her chin. ‘It is the first time I could speak of it.’
‘Are you crying over him?’
‘I shed my last tear for him a long time ago.’
‘Then why the tears?’
‘Because I’ve wasted my life.’ When she said the words, she knew she meant them. They had sprung from a place deep within her. She’d wanted to erase all trace of Charles from her life, but she hadn’t done. For too long she had been hiding, fearful of the long shadow. ‘It is not what I wanted. I had so many plans. I’ve done none of them.’
His hand closed about hers and gently took the candlestick from her. ‘You will burn your hand.’
‘I already have.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘It is fine. I won’t set the house on fire.’
Rather than letting her go, he pulled her to his hard body. ‘Silence. Perfect silence.’
He bent his head and captured her lips, demanding a response. Hattie opened her mouth and tasted the sweet interior.
A deep and dark fire welled up inside her, blotting out everything else. She twined her hands about his neck and held him close, allowing her body to say things that she didn’t dare. His mouth travelled over her face, softly nuzzling her cheeks and temple. ‘Hush now.’
A soft moan escaped from her throat. With the last vestige of common sense, she put her hands on his shoulders and created a space between their bodies. ‘I ought to go.’
‘Why did you bring me here?’ he said, sliding his hands down her back and cupping her body to his.
‘I told you. Because I wanted to make sure you lived. You saved me and my honour.’ Hattie kept her head up and looked him straight in the eye, attempting to ignore the fire blazing in her nether regions. If she wasn’t hanging on to him, she’d fall. Her legs had become wobblier than jelly.
‘It is poor excuse. We have gone beyond such things.’ He traced the outline of her lips. ‘Whatever you do, give solid reasons, rather than mealy-mouthed excuses.’
He placed a kiss in the corner of her mouth.
‘Why do you think I brought you here?’
‘Because you craved intimacy. You wanted more to your life than a solitary kiss in windswept ruins.’ His fingers touched her face, gentle but at the same time wildly exciting. ‘You wanted it as badly as I do. You have been driving me mad with longing, Harriet. The things I want to do with you.’
She turned her face to his palm. She was tempted to pinch herself to see if she was awake or if she had somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming. ‘Did I?’
‘You do.’ He put his hands on her shoulders. His face turned grave. ‘I’m not making promises that I can’t keep, Harriet. You understand that. It is about living in the moment with no regrets. I can offer you a summer and that is all.’
‘I’m aware of the rules of engagement, as it were.’ She tucked her head into her chest, torn between a longing to put her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat and the instinct to flee. He wasn’t offering anything honourable, only pleasure and only for the summer.
There was nothing wrong with taking her pleasure. She was a widow, rather
