It had been two days since Nicholas had whispered them into her ear, before they parted. He had headed to the stables and she to the main house, their stories firmly intact so as not to arouse suspicion.For two days her head swam with possibilities. Would Nicholas regret what they had shared and change his mind? She had told him from the beginning he owed her no promises for taking her innocence.No. Not taken. She had given it willingly, lured by the warmth and yes, the torment, that clung beneath his charming surface.But could she marry him after all that had transpired? She thought of the afternoon in the cabin. His hands on her naked skin. The pleasure he’d given her. The promises he’d whispered. How perfectly right it felt being with him.How could she not marry him?If he proposed.In the time since they had made love, they’d had no contact save for longing glances across a room. Fate conspired against them, devising activities that prevented them from stealing any time alone. Even now, as she sat with an unread book propped in her lap, the men were off hunting, while the women drank tea and chatted over needlepoint or cards.
