determined to stay the night unless he had answers to his questions. Fiend seize the man. Here he was, looking every inch the gentleman and acting like a cad. No one else had ever shown such disregard for her widow’s grief or disrespect for her privacy. She supposed he was looking out for his nephew, which was admirable in a guardian but unnerving in a dinner guest. To be honest, the man rattled her no matter what. To be entirely honest, she was not honest, and feared him as much as she was fascinated by him.
He was too good-looking, too well built, and too . . . virile. His brown-eyed gaze was too penetrating, and his smile too boyishly apologetic and appealing when she caught him looking at her bosom. Why did he have to be so blatantly manly, and why did he, of all men, make her feel like an attractive woman again?
She knew she should not have shown so much of her anatomy tonight, but her best gown was an old one, she might have gained a bit of weight, she had no matching shawl—and she wanted to show his lofty lordship that she was not simply a dowdy rustic widow. Botheration! She had only increased his curiosity. If she had dressed in one of her faded, shapeless gowns, he might not have shown such interest in her physical being or her past, a past she was not about to reveal.
“Good night, my lord.” Katie covered her mouth with her hand, as if she were hiding a yawn, a not-so-subtle hint.
With the servant and the daughter cleaning up just out of sight, Forde could not press his investigation. He nodded acceptance of his dismissal and stepped closer to the door. He politely thanked her for the meal and the chance to meet her neighbors, and then announced his intention of calling on her the next day.
“Oh, but I have—”
A hundred excuses not to be there. Devil take it, Forde wanted to know, tonight, if Mrs. Cole was a real lady, or open to other invitations. He could set her up in a cozy love nest in Town, with pretty gowns and a carriage of her own. Why should she raise chickens when she was raising his temperature just by standing near?
Susannah and the servant were carrying trays toward the rear of the house, laughing together, ignoring the front hall.
Forde took a step back, closer to Mrs. Cole, and leaned forward. He liked how she was tall enough that he did not have to crick his neck, and he liked the rosewater scent she wore. He liked how her cheeks flushed with color when she realized his intention, and that she did not run away. He lowered his lips to hers, softly, tentatively, just to satisfy his wondering about her reaction, he told himself. His own reaction was an instant surge of desire, a stronger surge than he had been feeling all night, that was.
She kissed him back! So he was right, and she was not all prim and proper, the beautiful, beloved widow of Brookville. Elated and aroused, he stopped thinking altogether, except how well they fit together, as he pulled her closer.
Good grief, Katie thought. First an inquisition, then a seduction. The man was the very devil, and she was no saint, either, to permit such liberties. It felt so good to have a gentleman desire her, though, and then to have him hold her, that she allowed the kiss to continue. She’d forgotten how thrilling a man’s embrace could be, to be surrounded by strength and sinew. She pressed closer, reveling in her first kiss in almost two decades.
Then Katie remembered where her last kisses had taken her.
“No,” she murmured.
“Oh, yes,” he purred, sending sparks down her spine with his knowing hands.
But no. Katie was a lady, not a strumpet, and she would not forget, even if his lordship did. She might have given herself to Susannah’s father, but they were engaged and in love, or so she thought. She knew better now.
Forde was another rake and a rogue, taking his pleasure wherever he found it. Katie had learned to take pleasure in her simple life, her daughter, her spotless reputation. She would not destroy all
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