Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(63)

After nodding his greetings to the card players, Jeremy approached her where she sat by the hearth. He was fresh from the stables, she could tell. When he bent over her hand, she could smell the cool wind that lingered in his hair and his clothing. His hand felt chilled as it lifted hers; his lips a curious mixture of frost and heat as he kissed her fingers. His eyes held hers for only a brief moment. Just long enough for Lucy to read the same strange combination of coolness and warmth mingled there.

“Lucy,” he said simply. As if only to confirm that he had not wandered into the wrong drawing room on the wrong manor and kissed the wrong lady’s hand.

Then he released her hand, straightened, and turned away. The instant he turned, she wedged her hand between her thigh and the cushion of her chair. But her elbow still trembled, rattling against her ribs in the most mortifying manner.

Henry rose from the table and tugged on his waistcoat. “I’ve spoken with the vicar. He’ll be here tomorrow at ten.”

“Good,” Jeremy replied. “I had my solicitor draw up the papers. But I’d rather discuss them in the morning, if it’s all the same to you. It’s been a long day, and I’m wanting a bath.”

“And a stiff drink, I’d expect.” Henry sat back down and picked up his hand of cards. “We’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Jeremy took his leave of them quietly, then turned back to her. “Lucy,” he said again, nodding curtly. Then he was gone.

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and sank back into her chair. What had just happened? She’d spent a full two days alternately dreaming of and dreading this moment, and now it had come. And passed. And aside from a little kiss that had turned her arm to jelly, it seemed she would receive no further insight into Jeremy’s state of mind until he showed up in the morning to marry her. In her best and worst imaginings—whether he rejected her or fell at her feet or pinned her to the bed—at least she had known where she stood with him.

And what did she know now? It was confirmed, twice, that he remembered her name. He still intended to marry her, she gathered. That was all.

Another night of rumination and conjecture stretched endlessly before her. If there were any answers to be found in the cracks of her ceiling, Lucy knew she would have divined them by now. She would surely go mad by morning.

His bath drawn, Jeremy divested himself of his coat and cravat before setting to work on his cuffs. He heard the door swing open and turned his head to glimpse a familiar swirl of crimson velvet and chestnut curls. Lucy shut the door, turned, and flattened herself against it, clutching her dressing gown closed at the neck.

“I need to tell you something.”

Jeremy’s hand froze. He had been in the process of rolling up his shirtsleeve, but he began to roll it back down. “Do you want to call it off, then?”Damn . He hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

Her brow wrinkled. “Do you?”

“I asked first.”

“Yes, but you brought it up. Have you changed your mind?”

“Lucy, I’m here. I have the special license and the marriage settlements. I rode three hours in the dark. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Oh.” She softened against the door. “I didn’t come to call it off.”

Relief flooded through him. Muscles knotted from hours of riding and days of uncertainty began to work loose.

Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck, slowly shaking his head. She wanted to know if he’d changed his mind. How could he change his mind, when his mind had nothing to do with this? He was not thinking. He was acting. He was claiming. And most distressing of all, he wasfeeling .

He could have returned that afternoon. He’d finished business with his solicitor that morning, procured the license the day before. The letters he’d spent all afternoon writing could just as well have been written from Waltham Manor, or a week later for that matter. But he’d dawdled over them, waiting to leave until the sky was dark and the day nearly gone.

And when he’d arrived, he’d needed to see her immediately. Once he had, he’d felt equally compelled to leave. She hadn’t said a word to him, and that suited him fine. Because if he didn’t give her the chance to speak, she couldn’t have a chance to say no.

But now she was here, and she didn’t want to call it off, and how Jeremy was going to keep from kissing her senseless that instant, he didn’t know. Good Lord, it had been hard enough to keep from doing so in the drawing room, with six people looking on. Now here she was again in that damned red velvet robe, and they were all alone. In his bedchamber. A ragged sigh escaped his lips.

She heard it. “Perhaps I should go. You must be tired.”

“I am tired,” he answered honestly. “And you should go. But before you do, I have something for you.”

“Really?” A surprised smile spread across her face, and she stepped away from the door.

Jeremy reached into the pocket of his coat where it hung over the back of a chair. He pulled out a small velvet box and held it out to her. She stared at it, but made no motion to take it from his hand.

“What is it?”

“Well, opening it would be a certain method of finding out.” He picked up her hand where it dangled at her side and turned it palm-side up. He placed the box flat in her palm. She simply stared at it, then looked up at him with eyebrows raised.