Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(7)

This time, the bristling was obvious. His prodding was definitely unwelcome. Still, she replied, “I have firmly embarked upon the path to spinsterhood, my lord. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

He’d insulted her, but had his answer—one that pleased him mightily. She glared at him from across the coach, even lovelier with fire in her eyes. “Forgive me.” He smiled his most charming smile, then decided it was time for the truth. “It is not often I meet a woman of your beauty and even rarer to find her unwed.”

Her lashes fluttered, but she still appeared ruffled. “It matters little. I’m not in the business of securing a husband, my lord.”

She returned to her book.

He smiled, settled back in his seat, and wondered what man had scarred her so. Most likely a rake. The man had been a fool to let her go, no doubt after tasting her charms. He’d wager his matching grays she wasn’t a virgin. Not with the looks she’d been sending him. Somehow, she knew about men, that much was clear. The thought teased his interest. Perhaps, she wouldn’t mind a little fondling…

Then Lord Stafford’s face barged through his thoughts. Blast the man—or, more aptly, himself.

Why couldn’t he remember the lass was forbidden fruit?

*

The remaining hours passed in silence. By early evening, they arrived at Brighton and turned east, then continued past the windmills and along the beach with its chalk cliffs that rose above a blue-green sea dotted with bobbing fishing boats. Finally, the carriage turned down the drive of a four-story manor perched a short distance from the sea, surrounded by manicured hedges, and with a cluster of outbuildings tucked behind it. French windows opened onto a wide veranda, that offered a splendid view of the sea.

The butler, housekeeper, and their small staff met them at the door as they arrived.

Again, he handed the ladies down from the carriage, and once again, he felt the pull of attraction as Rosalyn stepped down at his side.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, quite unaware he still held her hand. “If I owned such a place, I fear I would never leave it.”

He smiled as the sea wind caught her bonnet and tipped it back, sending the perfume of her hair wafting around him. He gave her fingers a little squeeze.

She glanced up, startled, and quickly withdrew her hand, but not before a faint pink crept over her cheeks.

“My lord,” the butler said. “There’s an urgent matter concerning the balloon. Issues, with the seams.”

Ethan frowned. It wasn’t news he wanted to hear. He bowed at the ladies. “I’m sure you are both tired from the journey. The housekeeper will show you to your rooms. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your rest.”

They both rushed to thank him. He tipped his hat, then directed his long legs toward the small stone outbuilding on the outer edge of the gardens.

The news proved disastrous, indeed. The varnish had peeled far worse than he’d thought. He wouldn’t be flying over the channel anytime soon. For a time, he dabbled with various compounds, and tried them out on snippets of silk until finally, he realized he’d worked through supper and long into the night.

With a sigh, he rubbed his tired shoulders, quit the place and headed back to the house. The moon hung bright overhead and only a short distance away, the sea glistened over the horizon. A gust of wind carried the smell of the sea to his nostrils and the sound of the waves beating the shore beckoned to him like a siren’s song.

Aye, he could use a swim.

The thought no sooner took hold than he strode to the beach, making short work of his clothes along the way. He dove into the bracingly cold water. He swam hard and fast, until at last, the pleasant tingle of exhaustion crept over him. It was time to go.

Invigorated, he returned to the beach and struggled into his breeches. He didn’t bother with the rest, but merely tossed his cravat about his neck and the rest over his shoulder and headed up the narrow path to the house. The path led to the opening in the garden hedge and as he stepped through, a light twinkling on the second floor caught his eye. He glanced over and froze.

Rosalyn.

She stood on the balcony outside her room and stared at the sea. The light behind her illuminated the outline of her sensual curves and shapely legs through her thin shift. As he watched, she closed her eyes and let her shawl slide from her shoulders to the crook of her elbows, half dragging one of the straps of her shift along the way.

His cock pulsed.

By God, she was a vision of seduction. He couldn’t have turned away even if he’d wanted to. Her shift stretched so enticingly across her breasts. Desire surged. If only he could slip her shift from her shoulders entirely and reveal the rest of that wickedly delicious body, one slow inch at a time.

He shifted weight as his bollocks tightened.

The slight movement caused her to turn.

Their eyes met.

He stayed as he was, enjoying her effect on his body, but she whirled and escaped to her room. A moment later, the lights went out and darkness fell.

Ethan exhaled a deep breath.

It was just as well. He was damn uncomfortable. He glanced down at his swollen shaft with a rueful grin. The damn thing had nearly leeched every drop of blood from the rest of his body.

Perhaps he’d be better off with another cold, bracing swim. Something told him that with Rosalyn around, nightly swims would fast become a habit.