Mr. Hunt, I Presume (Playful Brides, #10.5)(25)

He couldn’t blame her for hating him. He’d hate himself too if he were in her position. He’d promised her love and marriage and then he’d left her. It didn’t matter any longer why he’d done what he’d done. She’d spent the last fourteen years as a governess, a position that was clearly beneath her.

As to why she’d grabbed him and kissed him by the creek bed … that was easily explained. She’d come close to death, and he’d come close to it himself often enough to know that a feeling of euphoria usually followed such an event. Clearly they were still extremely physically attracted to each other. She’d confused her euphoria with passion, that was all. He couldn’t blame her for that either, and he certainly hadn’t minded. But it hardly meant she was interested in more.

He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece across from the bed. He’d promised to meet Derek at seven. Collin threw off the sheets and pushed himself out of bed.





*



When Collin arrived at the stables a quarter hour later, his brother was standing by his mount, consulting his timepiece.

“You’re late,” Derek shot out, his head cocked to the side.

Collin grinned at him. “I’m a gentleman of leisure for the next fortnight, or haven’t you heard?”

“Ah, I see. Forgetting your rigid military training so quickly.”

“I wish,” Collin returned. “Now, didn’t you promise me something about showing me the perimeter of the property?” He couldn’t wait to get started. A long ride was just what he needed to clear his mind today.

They both mounted their horses and took off at a brisk trot across the meadow. It wasn’t until they were too far away from the house to see it any longer that Derek said, “You all right?”

Collin frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Derek shrugged. “Lucy seems to think something happened between you and Erienne down by the creek yesterday.”

Collin’s head snapped to face him. “What makes her think that?”

“She said Erienne seemed upset when she returned.”

“Erienne almost drowned,” Collin ground out.

“Is that all that happened?” Derek countered.

Collin arched a brow at him. “Careful, your grace.” It had long been a jest between them for him to call Derek ‘your grace.’

“You can’t blame us for wondering,” Derek replied.

Collin poked out his cheek with his tongue and nodded. “Suffice it to say, I’m thinking of leaving.”

Derek lightly kicked his horse’s sides to go faster. “Now, that’s surprising.”

“What do you mean?” Collin called after him.

“I’ve never known you to run away from anything before. No matter how difficult.”





*



Later that afternoon, Collin strolled through his brother’s empty library. He’d already read all the interesting books on military history. He was so desperate for distraction that he’d been looking at tomes on gardening, of all bloody boring things. He’d fully intended to leave this morning, to take himself away from Erienne, to give her the peace she obviously deserved. But then Derek had gone and said the one bloody thing he knew would convince Collin to stay. That Collin wasn’t one to run away from difficult things.

And he wasn’t, damn it. So why did he want to run from this so much?

Because his emotions were involved. Emotions he barely wanted to acknowledge existed, let alone admit were causing him problems. He’d spent the last fourteen years dedicating himself to work and country, not worrying about things like love and marriage and touching Erienne Stone again. And now because of Lucy and her meddlesome ways, he was trapped in a house with the one woman who made his emotions riot.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear the door open. When he turned, Erienne was standing near the large leather sofa in the center of the room, the same large leather sofa where he’d pleasured her two nights ago. Bloody hell. That thought was not helping.

She hadn’t noticed him standing by the bookshelves in the far corner of the room. Instead, she bent to grab a book on the table in front of the sofa. She was wearing a dark gown and an apron. Dressed like a servant. The image of her in her ice-blue gown filled his mind. She should never have to dress like a servant again.

“Good afternoon,” he said. Then he wanted to kick himself. Good afternoon was a bloody boring thing to say. Besides, the afternoon was not particularly good. It was confusing and tense.

Erienne froze. “Oh,” she breathed, hugging the book against her chest. “I just came to fetch a book Mary left here this morning.” She glanced down at the cover. “Cinderella.”

He folded his hands behind his back and gave a solemn nod. “I’ve heard of that. Quite popular with the little ones, from what I understand.” Another idiotic thing to say. When had he turned into such an idiot?

“It’s her favorite.” Erienne stood there for a moment, as though casting about for something more to say, then seemed to decide the conversation was over and started for the door.

“Erienne, wait.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn to him. She stood facing the door, her back ramrod straight.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.