Page 49 of Hearts of Briarwall

“Lydia—” Her name came out breathy. He swallowed and tried again. “I cannot allow you to invest your entire inheritance in this endeavor.”

She blinked at him. “I agree. You have no say in what I do or don’t do with my money.”

Her words broke the spell he’d been under. He sat up, pushing his hand through his hair. “That is not what I meant, and you know it—”

She sat up as well. “Let me put your mind at ease. Twenty thousand pounds is not even half of my inheritance. It is, however, the amount Andrew and I agreed upon to invest. And I’m choosing to invest it in motor supply shops.Yourmotor supply shops.”

Twenty thousand pounds wasnot even halfof her inheritance? He stood, brushing off his trousers. “I doubt Andrew had that in mind when advising you.”

She peered up at him, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. “Well, fortunately for you, I don’t care what Andrew thinks.”

“That will certainly convincehimto invest.”

“Convincing him to invest isn’t the goal. He will never invest. Not in this.”

He turned away, his mind and body still fighting over the desire to either throttle her or kiss her. “Then what is the goal?”

She stood, picking at the debris on her blouse. He peeked at her and huffed at the sight of grass and leaves in her hair. She couldn’t very well return to the house in his company looking like that.

“Here, let me help.” He stepped forward and began pulling nature from her tresses.

“Thank you,” she said.

He felt her gaze on him but couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Please look at me.”

“No.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

Because to look at her was to want her more. He didn’t answer, only continued to pull leaves from her hair, the act itself far too intimate for his own good.

Her hands wrapped around his wrists, and she pulled his fists in front of her. “Listen to me, clock boy.”

He frowned at her, bemused.

She sighed. “The goal is to tie the Wooding name to the investments. To instill the confidence that our name provides in other potential investors. Do you think I don’t know how that would make a difference? That you are our guest—that my brother is an old friend—will influence our friends and acquaintances to place their trust in you.”

He lowered his chin, meeting her hopeful gaze. “And what will Andrew say, Lydia, when your friends and acquaintances ask him about his investment, and he, being a man of integrity, tells them he could not bring himself to invest? That it is not his investment, but yours? That he disapproves?”

She shrugged, poorly covering her wavering confidence. “It will make no difference. It is Wooding money.”

He wished that were true. He sighed and raised his wrist, kissing her hand still wrapped there, inhaling her scent.

She pulled in a soft breath of surprise but did not relinquish her grip.

“It is a very sweet thing you wish to do,” he said. “But perhaps you should discuss it with your brother before you do anything more.”

He felt her hand stiffen and then she pulled away. “Because I’m a woman.”

He bobbed his head. “Honestly? Yes. I will not insult your intelligence with pandering.”

She huffed. “Oh, well, thank you for that.” The brightness had left her eyes, but she had not dimmed. Indeed, she smoldered, brazenly holding his gaze. “But I think the pandering made an appearance at the wordsweet.”

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