LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘I would love to make love with you, Harriet. Right here and right now, but … it wouldn’t be wise. My body aches too much.’

      ‘The last thing I want to do is hurt you.’ She looped her arm about his.

      ‘It was worth having that fight simply to have you kiss me properly. I intend to hold you to your promise.’

      ‘Which promise would that be?’ Her voice sounded hoarse and seductive, foreign to her ears.

      He smiled down at her and then immediately winced, going pale.

      ‘You are to stay in bed tomorrow and I will have no excuses.’

      ‘You are a saucy wench, Harriet. Ordering me to stay in bed, while your mouth is cherry ripe.’ He gave her a hooded look. ‘What else do you intend?’

      His using her full name made her seem special and different from the Hattie who had been at the fair, but she also recognised the teasing note. She had never been teased in this way before, or indeed felt comfortable enough to tease back. A ripple of contentment went through her.

      ‘I thought all fallen women were bold,’ she retorted.

      ‘You haven’t fallen yet … It is not anyone else’s business. It will stay that way if we are discreet.’ He twisted a lock of her hair about his fingers. ‘Reputations can be protected. I intend to do all that is in my power to be discreet and to prevent speculation.’

      ‘I know. You can’t promise … but you will try.’ Her insides twisted. Open her mouth and insert her foot. She wanted this. She wanted that dark heat from earlier to consume her. Charles’s love-making had been perfunctory and tepid to say the least. Even his early kisses in the summer house had been respectful. If she had known what it was like to be kissed by a master, maybe she would have stopped it. Hattie squeezed her eyes shut. No regrets. Ever. ‘After you recover …’

      ‘After I recover, we will take up where we left off. I want you, Hattie. That wanting is not going to go away. Trust me.’

      She half-opened her eyes. He was looking at her with an intent gaze, but she could also see the pain in the way he held his mouth. ‘I trust you.’

      He dropped a kiss on her nose. ‘This is where you leave me. If you stay, I will want to make love to you and my mind may be willing, but my flesh is weak. When we make love I want to be strong. I want to give you pleasure. Immense pleasure.’

      Her stomach tightened at the thought. He was interested in her pleasure, not just his own. She tried and failed to imagine having this conversation with anyone else. ‘I … I don’t know what to say.’

      ‘Run along before I change my mind and do something we both regret.’

      ‘I promised to stay.’ The words escaped from her mouth. She swallowed hard and tried again in a calmer tone. ‘At least allow me to see you back to your bed.’

      ‘When? When did you promise?’ The colour drained from his face, leaving him pale and tense.

      ‘At the fair, you asked me.’ Hattie blinked rapidly. Somehow she had made a mistake and she wasn’t even sure what it was. She felt sick. If he hadn’t requested her to stay, she’d never have confessed. She should have thought that it wasn’t anything but a plea for the hurt to be gone. ‘Surely you remember? You must remember.’

      His gaze became troubled. Slowly he shook his head. ‘Everything remains hazy. It remains a blank. You mustn’t take what I said literally.’

      ‘I brought you here because you asked me to stay with you.’ Hattie’s heart pounded. He didn’t remember when he’d gripped her hand. It had seemed so important to her and he’d forgotten.

      ‘I can take responsibility for myself tonight. I want you to dream of me in what little is left of the night.’

      ‘And afterwards …’

      He cupped her face with his hands. ‘I want you, Harriet Wilkinson, never doubt that. I want to make long slow love to you and show you how good it can be between us.’

Chapter Nine

      Kit woke in the early hours of the morning and lay, gazing up at the ceiling. His entire body ached from the fight, but also with desire for Hattie. It unnerved him.

      He kept willing himself to remember all the events. He couldn’t have asked Hattie to stay. He never did things like that. He never tried to compromise anyone else’s freedom in that way or put demands on them. Asking someone to stay would mean he had feelings for Hattie and he always made a point to end a relationship then. He refused to allow himself to be hurt.

      What was worse was that he distinctly remembered speaking about his father. Kit had spent several years forgetting about him, his quick fists, the never-ending stream of perfumed women and his refusal to allow them in his life. He took pride in the fact that his fortune had not come from his inheritance, but from shrewd business decisions.

      In his mind he went over the kisses in the hallway. None of them was supposed to happen. He had gone out to comfort her and to make sure that she wasn’t hurting. And he’d nearly ended up seducing her. He should give her up. But having tasted the pure honey of her mouth, he knew he wanted more. It had infected him the first time he’d kissed her at the Roman ruins. He’d thought the feeling would diminish, but it had only grown stronger.

      He knew she’d only kissed him out of a need to stop thinking. But he was very glad she had.

      Now he was going to have to consider how to put things to rights and conduct their summer affair.

      Discretion was called for and, as much as he might not like it, he had to take the hard decisions now. When autumn came, it would end, but Hattie would need to be protected. For once he was going to do this right.

      Hattie sat in the dining room, staring at her half-eaten breakfast. Moth lay under the table, waiting for crumbs.

      She had gone to bed, but had lain fully dressed, waiting to hear the slightest movement from the sickroom. Mrs Hampstead had appeared about six and told her to sleep.

      ‘I came as soon as it was practicable, Hattie. These scrapes you do get in. I declare you are worse than the children.’ Stephanie strode in, every inch the outraged matron.

      Hattie dropped her piece of toast and stared at her sister. Silently she thanked her guardian angel that Kit remained upstairs, asleep in the sickroom. She swallowed hard to get rid of the tightness in her throat. ‘Stephanie. How good of you to call and at such an early hour. It is not even ten.’

      Stephanie towered over like some avenging angel from the inquisition. The ribbons on her bonnet trembled. ‘Is it true that you insisted on bringing Sir Christopher here after what happened? Have you taken leave of your senses? Never mind the village, the entire Tyne Valley and possibly all of Northumberland are speaking about the fight and the aftermath. Your behaviour, Hattie, has been much remarked on.’

      ‘No, I had my senses fully engaged. Sir Christopher had just rescued me from what is delicately referred to as a fate worse than death. I had no intention of leaving him to bleed on the muddy ground. Would you have done that?’

      ‘You owed him nothing.’

      ‘We shall agree to disagree on that. I always pay my debts.’ Hattie gave a small shudder as she recalled how the drunk had pawed her and how his fetid breath had smelt. She hadn’t been strong enough to fight him. ‘He saved me and was injured, probably badly injured. Doctor Gormley has diagnosed a mild concussion at best. What sort of person do you take me for to put some form of mock refinement before my duty?’

      ‘Surely Dr Gormley would have taken him in?’

      ‘It was two hours before Dr. Gormley was found in the ale tent. I do not think he could have seen straight to sew stitches.

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