Page 22 of Married to the Lord

“Oh,” she repeated.

“I would have thought you would be glad.”

“No, I am. Of course. It’s just...” She sighed. “Do you, perchance, have time for a quick stroll? I doubt my parents will notice my slightly longer absence.”

He should say no, of course. It was too dangerous for him to be alone with her, as he had so proved.

“Yes,” he said, his own voice betraying him. Damn it.

They headed toward a coppice, set away from the house, in silence. The shadowy entrance beckoned them inside, offering privacy and a little shade from what was proving to be a warm day. Miles said nothing, too aware of his own heartbeat and her proximity for his liking. As soon as they entered the meandering path that sliced through the modest gathering of trees, his awareness of her heightened tenfold. Perhaps because they were alone. Hidden. Out of view. If he so wanted, he could kiss her again and no one would ever know.

He blew out a heated breath through his nostrils. And, damn, did he want to.

Sneaking a sideways glance at her, he forced his expression to remain neutral. She had already suffered enough with that bastard Jenkins today. The last thing she needed was her fiancé’s brother muddying the waters yet again. Apparently he was not nearly sorry enough about kissing her because all he could think of was pushing her up against a tree and tasting that sweet, sweet mouth once more.

Augusta slowed her pace and finally came to a stop when they came to an almost circular barren path in amongst the trees. She sank onto a fallen tree with a sigh and peered at the canopy above. Afternoon sunlight dripped through the leaves, speckling her in golden dapples. Miles’s mouth dried. Fire raced through his veins. Now he had enjoyed a taste of her, all he wanted was more. The mere thought of never touching her again, never feeling her body against him....not to mention watching her as his brother’s wife made his insides feel as though they were being scavenged by wolves. Each moment with her was like another swipe of claws. Slowly, he was unravelling.

He straightened his shoulders. Which was why he needed to bring Henry home and put an end to this. Once they were married, he could make himself scarce. Spend some time in the house on the coast perhaps. Wherever they were, he would ensure he was not.

Augusta picked a dandelion and blew at the seeds. A few fluttered to the ground and she began to pluck them off in little bunches, dropping them by her feet.

“Augusta,” Miles prompted. As much as he could spend all day watching her doing the most mundane of things, he did have business to attend and the less time they were alone together, the better.

She stopped and dropped the plant, offering him a meek smile. “Forgive me.” She swiped her hands down her skirt and stood, closing the gap between them once more. “You said you were here to speak to my father about Henry?”

He nodded. “Yes, I—”

“I was hoping I might get the chance to speak with you about him.”

“Well, you can speak with him yourself.”

Augusta blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I finally have word that he is returning home.”

She drew in a long breath. “He is returning home?”

“Indeed,” he said tightly, searching for the excitement in her gaze. It was there, was it not?

“Home?” she repeated.

“Yes?”

“To here? From where he was?”

“Henry is returning to Hampshire,” Miles confirmed.

Augusta put fingers to her mouth. “Why?”

“I am assuming to fulfill his obligation to you.” His jaw hurt as he forced the words out.

“Well, I suppose…” She glanced at the floor. “I suppose that is good news.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

For her and Henry at least. Not for him, though.

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