Surely he was imagining things. He stared down at what could only be blood on the sheets where Helen had lain, but his mind couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.
His gaze met hers. “But you’re a widow…”
She closed her eyes, and he struggled to understand what was happening. How was it possible that she could still be a virgin? He tried to remember how long she’d been married, but Freddie had rarely spoken about Helen. He’d talked almost nonstop about Grace, the woman he’d planned to wed, but only about the rest of her family on rare occasions.
When she opened her eyes again, understanding dawned when he saw the guilt reflected there. “You’re not Helen.”
She shook her head.
He swore, and she flinched at his harsh language. Rising swiftly, he began to dress. After a few moments of silence, she did the same.
He tried not to watch her as he dragged his trousers back on, but he was only human and his eyes kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t help but notice the way she struggled with her stays. Without a word, he moved behind her and, after a moment of hesitation, reached for the laces of the garment and helped her back into it. His fingers—no, if he was being honest, his whole body—struggled against the urge to remove it again even as he tied the final knot. The desire to tear the chemise she wore beneath it took his breath. Even knowing who this woman was, he wanted nothing more than to take her back to his bed. The only thing that stopped him was the memory of Freddie telling him how much he loved Grace and imploring him to deliver his letter to her. It had been his last request right before he took his own life.
He pushed away his desire and moved to where his shirt lay on the floor. He turned his back on the woman with whom he’d just made love and pulled it back over his head. When he turned back to face Grace, he was slightly relieved to find she’d finished dressing. But his torment wasn’t over quite yet. She turned around, and he had to grit his teeth when he realized she needed his help to do up the row of buttons at her back.
He was in hell, and this was his punishment.
He crossed the much-needed space he’d managed to put between them and began the slow, arduous process of covering up the woman he’d taken such delight in disrobing what felt like only moments before. When he finally reached the last button, he dropped his hands and waited for her to turn around. It was several seconds before she did so, and she kept her gaze averted from his.
It almost hurt to look at her, and in that moment, he understood why his friend had lost his heart to this woman. If he wasn’t careful, he could very easily find himself following suit. But Freddie had died because of the despair brought about after receiving wounds meant for him. Freddie had saved his life, and Edward wouldn’t shirk his responsibilities now. He wouldn’t use the woman his friend had loved and then casually toss her aside.
When he spied the gauzy material of the fichu she’d worn when she first arrived, he bent to retrieve it. He handed it to her and watched in silence as she tucked it into the neckline of her dress, hiding her glorious breasts from him.
“We’ll marry at once,” he said. “I can leave tomorrow morning to procure a special license.”
He expected her to agree or to nod her acceptance, but when she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes were wide with confusion. “Why?”
He scowled. “Because I don’t take advantage of innocents.” When she flinched, he realized he’d spoken much louder than he’d intended.
“It was not my intention to force a proposal of marriage from you.”
Her hand moved up to toy with her locket, and he remembered Freddie saying that he’d given it to her after she agreed to marry him. Ice ran through his veins at the thought of having made love to her while she wore it.
“Nevertheless, what’s done cannot be undone, and I owe it to Freddie to behave honorably.” He wasn’t sure if he’d mentioned her former betrothed’s name to convince her or himself of his responsibility toward her.
“You would have been content to bed me, believing I was a widow, and quit Somerset without offering marriage. Does it really matter that I’m not?”
“Of course it does. You are not so innocent that you wouldn’t know society has one set of rules for women who are or once were married and another, much harsher set of rules for those who have been ruined.”
“I detest that term,” she said, returning his scowl. “And I refuse to discuss this further.”
When she turned toward the bedroom door, he blocked her path.
“I don’t understand how you thought I wouldn’t notice you’d never been with another man.” Never mind that he’d been so consumed by lust that he’d only made the discovery after seeing the physical evidence of her innocence. “I will give you time to acquaint yourself with the idea, but we will be married.”
She looked away from him. “I can’t talk about this with you.”
He wanted to press the issue, but the stubborn tilt of her head told him there was nothing he could say at that moment to make her understand marriage was the only course of action open to them. He’d give her the time he promised, but not too much of it.
Resisting the almost overwhelming urge to draw her into his arms and use other methods of persuasion, he moved aside and allowed her to brush past him.
He stepped into his shoes and followed as she rushed downstairs, trying to ignore his annoyance at just how anxious she was to leave. When she halted abruptly at the base of the stairs, he glanced over her shoulder and saw that Gordon was in the sitting room. He’d been reading but had risen when he saw Grace.
Edward jerked his head to the left and his valet bowed before excusing himself to go upstairs. Grace’s color was high, and it was clear she was embarrassed at having been seen.
“My servant is loyal and won’t say a word.”
Her lips compressed into a tight line, but she gave her head a small nod. He followed, once again, as she left the cottage. He waited until they were outside, where Grace could be reassured that their conversation wasn’t being overheard, before reaching for her hand and pulling her to a halt.
“I must leave,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze.
He allowed her to pull her hand from his, the movement leaving him feeling oddly bereft, but he wasn’t about to allow her to go home on her own.
“I will take you home,” he said. When she shook her head, he added, “I insist.”
He resisted the urge to smile when she let out a long-suffering sigh and followed him to the small stable at the rear of the cottage where he kept his horse. When she saw he only had one, she visibly recoiled.
“I am not riding on that horse with you. I walked here and will return the same way.”
The thought of her walking home alone in the dark made his blood freeze. He’d give Grace the time she needed to get used to the fact that they would be married, but he wouldn’t allow her to put her life at risk.
“I’ll either walk beside you or we can ride together. But if we walk, there is an increased likelihood that we’ll be seen, and then you’ll have no choice but to marry me.” Not that she had a choice in any case, he added silently.
When she said nothing, he leaned forward and trailed a hand along the neckline of her dress. His fingers dipped inside briefly, and he didn’t miss the way her breath hitched. Damn, he was getting hard again. Before he could give in to his selfish desire and compound his betrayal of Freddie, he tugged the fichu from where she’d tucked it into the top of her bodice and pulled it from around her neck.
“Cover your hair with this. If we see anyone on the way, you can turn your face into my shoulder and conceal your identity.” He could tell that she wanted to protest, so he added, “Unless, of course, you want to be seen alone with me.”
She yanked the fabric from his hand, making no effort to hide her annoyance, and tied it around her hair. He couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting down to her bodice. The upper swells of her breasts were visible now, and they quivered with her quick, jerky movements. His mouth watered as he remembered with vivid clarity how they had tasted.
If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. He saddled his horse quickly, noting how Grace kept glancing toward the open door of the stable. But she chose wisely to wait for him to finish because there was no way he was going to allow her to walk alone at night when anything could happen to her. While it was true that the surrounding area seemed quiet and safe, he’d seen enough to know that atrocities could occur anywhere.
When he was done, he led his mount outside, swung into the saddle, and held his hand out to her. He frowned when she hesitated, tamping down the urge to remind her that she hadn’t minded his touch not a quarter of an hour before.
“The sooner you get on this horse, the sooner you’ll be home and rid of me.”
His words had the desired effect. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up so she sat sideways before him. Her left arm was around his waist for balance, and he had to shift in the saddle so she wouldn’t feel how he’d hardened again.
The ride to her parents’ estate wasn’t a long one, but it threatened to undo Edward’s resolve to be circumspect in his behavior toward Grace until she agreed to marry him. Aside from the arm she braced at his waist, she tried to keep herself away from him, but her body kept swaying against his before she stiffened and pulled away again. She didn’t need to lean against him though to drive him insane. Her scent alone reminded him of how it had felt to hold her, to kiss her and sink into her.
He kept his gaze fixed forward, determined not to leer at her cleavage, but it took all his willpower to do so. The worst of it was that he could tell by the way her breathing had quickened that she, too, was not immune to being this close to him.
He didn’t take her right to the house but rode to the small copse of trees where he’d taken shelter on the day they’d met. When he came to a halt, she slid from the horse and left him without a word or a backward glance.
He supposed it was what he deserved.