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of terms. Lady Freshford will be delighted, and will say so. Your parents will express their approval—’

      ‘They will?’ Henry was staring at her, apparently dumbfounded.

      ‘They will when they realise how wealthy you are,’ Decima retorted. ‘And how generous you will be with the settlements. And, of course, the fact that you will be persuading your cousin the duke to host the wedding at Farleigh. Adam might be a viscount, but he is not closely related to any living dukes, are you?’

      ‘No, although I am a distant connection of Freshford’s duke.’

      ‘He’s only a second cousin,’ Henry protested faintly. ‘Once removed.’

      ‘How are we going to tell Mama?’ Olivia enquired, going a little pale again and clutching Henry’s arm.

      ‘Are both she and your father out of town?’ Adam asked.

      ‘Yes, until Wednesday—three days’ time.’

      ‘Then we will both talk to them then, together. We will explain how we are mistaken in our feelings and how, although you tried to hide it from me, you loved another. I saw through your honourable deceit, leaving you free to marry the man you love, and so forth. I will exit, looking noble, to be followed by Freshford, hard on my heels before they have time to think of objections.’

      ‘I will be so frightened.’ Olivia’s eyes were wide. ‘I cannot do it, I know I cannot.’

      ‘Do you want to break Henry’s heart?’ Decima enquired bracingly, satisfied when she saw Olivia’s jaw set with determination.

      Henry appeared to be a man coming out of a dream. The stunned expression was vanishing rapidly, to be replaced by a look of deep suspicion. ‘A word with you, my lord,’ he said grimly.

      ‘Not here.’ Adam held the door wide and ushered Henry out. ‘We do not want to confuse or alarm the ladies, do we?’

      Adam closed the door and leant back on the panels. ‘Before you ask, yes, that was all a ruse.’ It was just beginning to sink in that it had worked, that he was no longer tied to Olivia and that he could at last tell Decima how he felt about her.

      ‘Your leg?’ Freshford was still eying him with a degree of suspicious hostility, unwilling to trust him entirely yet.

      ‘A trick.’

      ‘Someone could have been killed, shots were fired, Olivia was alone in that curricle.’

      ‘Every pistol, including yours, was loaded with blanks. The “highwayman” leading the curricle is a highly competent groom and the horses were less than fresh after a long drive. I did what I could.’ Suddenly bone weary, he let his eyes close for a moment, then reopened them to find Freshford regarding him quizzically.

      ‘Why did you become engaged to Olivia in the first place?’

      Adam shook his head. ‘Ask her. If she will not tell you, I cannot. I suggest you drive her home in your curricle now. Take the picnic hamper from mine and have a pleasant journey back.’

      ‘And leave you with Decima?’ To Adam’s eye, Freshford was looking less like a man in love and more like a suspicious relative. ‘Just what are your intentions, my lord? I should tell you, I regard her as my sister. If you hurt her, you will have me to answer to. I am more grateful than I can say for what you have done for Olivia and me, but I won’t let that stand in my way.’

      ‘My intentions? To marry her, if she’ll have me. Do you think she will?’

      Freshford grinned suddenly. ‘You’ll have to ask her and see.’

      Adam reached into his pocket and withdrew the pistol. ‘You had better have this, just in case. The ammunition is live. If Decima were to be…delayed this afternoon—’

      ‘I will tell my mother she’s staying with a friend.’ Henry took the pistol, pocketed it, then held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

      Adam stepped aside as he opened the door and called. Olivia came out, too wrapped up in Henry to even notice Adam standing back in the shadows. He shook his head ruefully, wondering what transformation in the pretty little mouse the experience of loving Henry Freshford would bring about. It would be intriguing to watch, but now he had his own fate to put to the touch.

      Decima was standing by a cold fireplace, staring down at the empty hearth. She glanced up as he came in, her face serious. ‘Olivia has just told me about the house party and why you had to propose to her. She feels so guilty about that.’

      ‘Water under the bridge now.’ Adam shrugged. ‘At the time I almost welcomed it. I had lost something very precious and I didn’t think I had a hope of finding it again, so nothing else really mattered.’ Did she understand him?

      It seemed she did—the colour was high on her cheekbones and her eyes dropped before his. He pressed on. ‘I was running away from love and commitment and marriage. I thought that what I felt for you was desire, just that.’ He was doggedly determined to lay it all out, leave nothing unsaid. ‘Then when I realised what I really wanted, that I didn’t want to run any more, I couldn’t find you. When I did discover who you were, it was too late.’

      Decima was silent. Had he misjudged it? Should he have taken her back home, waited, tried wooing her with soft words and flowers?

      ‘Decima.’ It was four strides to reach her across the room—it seemed like a mile. ‘Decima, I love you. Will you marry me?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’ She turned to him, her eyes sparkling, her warm, generous mouth curved into a smile that was pure happiness, just for him. ‘Yes, I will, and I love you, I’ve loved you for so long and I never thought you could possibly love me.’

      There didn’t appear to be any words, or, if there were, his tongue was incapable of articulating them. Adam took Decima by the shoulders, turned her gently into his embrace and kissed her.

      This was real, and it was different, quite different from their kisses before, different from the way she had dreamed it would be. As Adam’s mouth angled over hers, gently insistent as he caressed her lips with his, she realised what it was. There was no doubt, no guilt, no anxiety about why he was kissing her. She knew he was showing her his love and he knew that was what she wanted, too.

      Her lips parted and she shuddered deliciously at the heat, at the shocking, velvet slide of his tongue over hers. She moaned a little, deep in her throat and he shifted his hands to bring her closer, one hand in the small of her back, the other at the back of her head, impelling her into his kiss.

      It was not enough. Her hands splayed across the breadth of his shoulders, her fingers spreading as they traced the hard muscle under the broadcloth and linen. He was so big, so strong, so hard, that he frightened her and delighted her all at the same time. But she was strong too, she would match him, keep pace with him, incite him to love her without restraint.

      Adam’s hands shifted again and she was in his arms, lifted tightly against his chest. Decima muttered a protest as he carried her through into the hall. ‘I don’t want to go yet.’ Her lips found the skin at the edge of his jaw, rough with the start of new stubble, and she nuzzled at it, making him gasp.

      ‘We aren’t going.’ She felt him begin to climb. ‘Decima, stop it or I’ll make love to you here and now on the stairs!’

      ‘Mmm,’ she murmured encouragingly. Under her lips she could feel the pulse in his neck, hammering.

      ‘Witch.’ It was a chuckle, albeit a breathless one. He shouldered open a door, took a few more strides and she found herself laid down on a bed. Reluctantly Decima opened her eyes. She was in a bedroom, but unlike the rooms downstairs that were occupied by only a few items of dust-sheeted furniture, this room was fully furnished with damask drapes at the windows and new candles in the sconces. Adam struck a spark from his tinderbox and set a taper to the fire, which stood ready-made in the grate.

      ‘You see my arrogance exposed,’ he

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