her to please him.
The scent of him caught her completely unprepared. Warm sandalwood, enticing and wickedly delightful, reminded her of a long forgotten pleasure. The memory was from so long ago that sometimes she wondered if the occasion had been real or a product of her lonely mind. She was lonely now, and so very attracted to him. Was it wrong to indulge in a small moment of physical pleasure?
Ignoring the need for decorum in Edwin’s presence, Mercy rose to the balls of her feet, stretching as far as she was able, to press her lips against Randall’s. The light, teasing brush brought a burst of desire to her blood in a shocking rush. But when she angled her head to deepen the kiss for more, he stepped back, far out of reach.
“Your Grace?” Randall didn’t smile, and the formality of his question suggested to her that what she’d just done was not welcomed. She wasn’t so grand that she could throw herself at any man she found attractive and expect him to feel the same. It was unfortunate he seemed the only man so far to tempt her in that way. Humiliation at his reaction cut into her soul, and she turned away to hide her disappointment and shame. What could one say at such a moment? Should she explain herself? Assure him that it was an impulse born of the moment and loneliness, or ignore what had happened completely? Mercy chose to ignore it.
She knelt at her son’s side and gathered him into her arms. His weight was slight enough that she could still negotiate the long dress and rise, but she wouldn’t be able to do it much longer. Randall’s hands slid about her waist to steady her ascent. She blushed again, but not with embarrassment. She really had wanted that kiss to continue.
“Where are you taking him? Shall I open a door?” Randall asked, his tone soft, deep and altogether reminding her that she wanted to feel his breath across her skin again. His hands circling her waist still caused all sorts of problems for her breathing.
Mercy swallowed nervously. “There is no need.” His hands slid slowly from her waist as she moved away toward a thickly padded window seat. She missed the touch immediately, but she had to be a mother now to Edwin. He would always come first in her world.
Edwin settled easily enough, snuggling into the light blanket and pillow that awaited his afternoon nap. She leaned down, pressed a kiss to his brow and sat quietly at his side. “We spend most afternoons here, Mr. Randall,” she said softly. “Would you ring the bell again for the servants to bring our tea?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
With Randall no longer hovering so close, Mercy could breathe again. She smoothed Edwin’s hair once more, and when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer, she turned to face her guest. But he wasn’t watching her, condemning her actions with those dark eyes. He’d fixed his gaze on the outside world.
Knowing her unseemly behavior would always lurk between them, she approached until she could see the side of his face. She should really clear the air or her unforgivable lapse in decorum would always be a discomfort between them. She usually didn’t try to kiss every handsome man that called at Romsey Abbey. So far, only he affected her that way.
Randall’s head turned after a long moment. “Does he sleep well? Deeply?”
Mercy drowned in his dark eyed stare. Her breath caught. She let it go in a rush before he noticed. “You could drop a pail of coals beside his sleeping form and he’d not wake.”
A dimple appeared. “He will grow out of that as he becomes older.”
Mercy nodded, unsure how he could be so certain, but accepting that with two younger male siblings he might have an idea of what he was talking about. Her brother, Constantine, was older but disliked answering her questions. He said she fussed too much.
Randall turned to face her. “You are a good mother, never doubt that.” He curled his hand around the back of her skull, pulling her forward and
The scent of him caught her completely unprepared. Warm sandalwood, enticing and wickedly delightful, reminded her of a long forgotten pleasure. The memory was from so long ago that sometimes she wondered if the occasion had been real or a product of her lonely mind. She was lonely now, and so very attracted to him. Was it wrong to indulge in a small moment of physical pleasure?
Ignoring the need for decorum in Edwin’s presence, Mercy rose to the balls of her feet, stretching as far as she was able, to press her lips against Randall’s. The light, teasing brush brought a burst of desire to her blood in a shocking rush. But when she angled her head to deepen the kiss for more, he stepped back, far out of reach.
“Your Grace?” Randall didn’t smile, and the formality of his question suggested to her that what she’d just done was not welcomed. She wasn’t so grand that she could throw herself at any man she found attractive and expect him to feel the same. It was unfortunate he seemed the only man so far to tempt her in that way. Humiliation at his reaction cut into her soul, and she turned away to hide her disappointment and shame. What could one say at such a moment? Should she explain herself? Assure him that it was an impulse born of the moment and loneliness, or ignore what had happened completely? Mercy chose to ignore it.
She knelt at her son’s side and gathered him into her arms. His weight was slight enough that she could still negotiate the long dress and rise, but she wouldn’t be able to do it much longer. Randall’s hands slid about her waist to steady her ascent. She blushed again, but not with embarrassment. She really had wanted that kiss to continue.
“Where are you taking him? Shall I open a door?” Randall asked, his tone soft, deep and altogether reminding her that she wanted to feel his breath across her skin again. His hands circling her waist still caused all sorts of problems for her breathing.
Mercy swallowed nervously. “There is no need.” His hands slid slowly from her waist as she moved away toward a thickly padded window seat. She missed the touch immediately, but she had to be a mother now to Edwin. He would always come first in her world.
Edwin settled easily enough, snuggling into the light blanket and pillow that awaited his afternoon nap. She leaned down, pressed a kiss to his brow and sat quietly at his side. “We spend most afternoons here, Mr. Randall,” she said softly. “Would you ring the bell again for the servants to bring our tea?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
With Randall no longer hovering so close, Mercy could breathe again. She smoothed Edwin’s hair once more, and when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer, she turned to face her guest. But he wasn’t watching her, condemning her actions with those dark eyes. He’d fixed his gaze on the outside world.
Knowing her unseemly behavior would always lurk between them, she approached until she could see the side of his face. She should really clear the air or her unforgivable lapse in decorum would always be a discomfort between them. She usually didn’t try to kiss every handsome man that called at Romsey Abbey. So far, only he affected her that way.
Randall’s head turned after a long moment. “Does he sleep well? Deeply?”
Mercy drowned in his dark eyed stare. Her breath caught. She let it go in a rush before he noticed. “You could drop a pail of coals beside his sleeping form and he’d not wake.”
A dimple appeared. “He will grow out of that as he becomes older.”
Mercy nodded, unsure how he could be so certain, but accepting that with two younger male siblings he might have an idea of what he was talking about. Her brother, Constantine, was older but disliked answering her questions. He said she fussed too much.
Randall turned to face her. “You are a good mother, never doubt that.” He curled his hand around the back of her skull, pulling her forward and
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