material. Cashmere, and unutterably soft.
“It’s one of the reasons, your grace, that I am so pleased to be here at Bitterward.” She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “The house is an excellent example of the Gothic. I’m very much looking forward to exploring and taking some sketches. That’s if you don’t mind. I hope you don’t.”
“Draw the entire house if you like.” The neckline of her gown was low enough to offer him a view of the curve of her breasts, and, yes, he looked.
“Thank you.” She took a step away from him and plucked a leaf from one of the rosebushes. He reminded himself of how improper it would be to close the distance between them. She folded the leaf in half lengthwise then in half again. He had the impression Miss Wellstone was never still for long. Despite her physical delicacy, she was not a languid woman.
“Your adventure?”
She unfolded the leaf and then began again, folding in the opposite direction. “It began when I saved a Gypsy king’s dog from certain death.”
“A Gypsy?”
“He wore the most colorful clothes. They made me dizzywith delight and astonishment.” The leaf succumbed to the folding and tore. She dropped it at the side of the path. “You never saw a more handsome man in your life. He wasn’t as tall as you, but he was well made, with dusky skin and the most languishing eyes.”
“Did you fall in love with him?” he asked. He took a step toward her.
“Madly. Desperately. Head-over-heels.” Her smile broadened, and Mountjoy thought he’d do anything to see her smile like that again. “If only for a moment. I do believe if he’d asked me, I’d have run away with him and his charming puppy to learn to dance, read fortunes, and live the Gypsy life.”
Mountjoy began to understand why her father thought her wild. The idea of her running off with a Gypsy was more than a little arousing, and he suspected she knew that. They were alone. Completely. He did not think only he felt the tension between them. He touched her cheek and began his slide to Hell for what he intended.
“Don’t you think that would be a most exciting life, your grace?” She didn’t move away from his caress. He wasn’t far gone enough not to know he hadn’t merely touched her. “I wonder if I ought to have done so.”
“Eugenia would have been devastated to miss your visit.”
She lifted her chin. “I was only in love for a moment, but what a moment it was.” Her laughter was a beguiling thing to hear. No titter or practiced trill, but a full on burst of amusement. “I had already imagined our ten beautiful children, all of them Gypsy princes and princesses.”
“Ten of them?”
“Yes.” A breeze came up, and she shivered. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms.
“You’re cold.”
“Perhaps a little.”
Mountjoy arranged her shawl around her shoulders so it didn’t droop uselessly down her back. Then he curled his fingers in the cashmere and pulled her toward him. Heshouldn’t do this, but it seemed he was going to anyway. Because she was beautiful and intriguing, and not at all the innocent he’d imagined when they met. “Will you let me keep you warm?”
She smiled as if she knew a secret, and he wondered just who was seducing whom. He moved her closer to him.
“Better?” he said.
“Mm.”
He brought both sides of her shawl closer around her. He could not do any of the things on his mind. He couldn’t. But if he did? “Since you did not run away with the Gypsy king, there must be more to your adventure. Or was meeting him thrilling enough?”
Their eyes locked, acknowledging what their words did not. “He thanked me profusely and genuinely for rescuing his puppy, which he intended to give to one of his daughters.”
Mountjoy kept her close. “If the Gypsy king had a daughter of his own, then he must have already