Page 7 of Their Blushing Bride (Bridgewater Brides 2)

But, was he really a stranger? We’d met in the park several days ago. Our encounter brief, but instinctively I had known there was something about him. Something that called to me on an elemental level. My skin heated where he touched me, and flutters erupted in my stomach.

Not to mention the many depraved thoughts and fantasies I’d had about him and Keane.

Glancing do

wn, I noticed the state of my clothing, and a shame-filled blush scorched my face. I turned away from Rye and adjusted my garments, though with buttons missing my blouse would not close. I removed a pin from my hair and fashioned a closure. Stifling an anguished sigh, I turned back to the gentleman whose presence seemed to fill the entire room.

"I-I thank you for your assistance, sir," I said, looking him in the eye and then glancing away before I found myself lost in his gaze. "And your friend as well. It seems both of you have come to my rescue twice in only two meetings. I shall be on my way and not bother you any further." I stepped toward the door, though a part of me yearned for him to make me stay.

Foolish notion. He was clearly a man of the world with his fancy hotel suite and the hint of an upper-crust British accent. And what was I?

An unemployed governess with barely a cent to her name. But that was not his concern, and I would not make it so, either. I had my pride, for as long as it lasted.

"Oh no, you don't." He stepped into my path.

"Please, sir. I have troubled you enough already."

He reached out and grasped my arm. When I winced, his eyes softened with concern, and he opened the buttons on the cuffs of my sleeves. The breath hitched in my throat at the feel of his touch upon my flesh. Tiny sparks lit my skin wherever his fingers rested. He gently turned my arm until the bruise was visible. He swore under his breath then looked me in the eye. "I do not care if that man is your husband, he has no right to lay hands on you in this manner. No man does, but a husband doing this to his wife..." His jaw clenched shut, and he said no more.

He turned away and raked his fingers through his hair as though trying to contain a volatile reaction.

I blinked as his words sank in. "Husband? That man is not my husband. He is Mr. Richard Garner, my f-former employer."

Rye spun around on his heel and grabbed me by my upper arms. "What? What did you say?"

RYE

* * *

The girl’s words shook me to my core. "Y-your former employer? But what about the children? We saw you with children in the park."

"I am... was, the governess for the Garner children." When she spoke the words a profound sadness filled her eyes. "Michael and Hannah. Michael is eight, and Hannah is six." Her voice hitched with emotion, and she glanced away, blinking back tears.

Not married? No children? I gaped at her, my heart singing with euphoria. I fought against the huge grin of joy that wanted to burst forth. She was clearly distraught. I needed to temper my excitement. For now.

There would be plenty of time later to caress and explore her body, tell her how much she’d haunted my dreams over the past few nights.

I stroked the soft flesh of her cheek. It was like a fresh peach, and she flushed when I touched her.

"We meet again, Miss Lily Snow," I said gently, holding my palm out to her.

"Yes." She smiled for the first time this evening. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She placed her palm in mine. I caressed her delicate fingers and noted the way her breath sped up at the contact. She tugged, and I let it go. For now.

"And you are Rye," she said, giving me a shy gaze.

"Yes, Miss Lily Snow." I retrieved her hand and kissed the top of it. It was silky smooth and smelled of lavender soap. "I am Rye. I am pleased to know you remembered."

"Rye?" The corner of her mouth turned up a bit. I was used to questions about my unusual name. Usually they pissed me off, but, from her, the inquiry was charming.

"An old family name," I replied. She could find out the rest later, that I was Lord Hiram Rye, third son of the Earl of Rye. "Now, let's get back to you. You were the governess, but you are no longer."

"Yes."

"You were fond of the children." It was a statement and not a question. I'd seen the way she'd hugged and kissed them at the park.

"Y-yes." She stared at the floor, and I touched her chin and returned her gaze to me.

"And you have somehow been relieved of your duties?"

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