She drew a long breath of fresh air.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Rhys asked, motioning her toward the blanket.
She nodded. “We’ve been very lucky with the weather both days. So late in the summer, I might have expected rain.”
They sat on the blanket and everyone began to eat. And though she had expected that she might have to make small talk with Rhys for the hour they paused in their travels, it turned out not to be true. Instead he chatted with the servants, asking after families and laughing at their jokes. She couldn’t help but stare in wonder.
Men of Rhys’s rank were not often so kind to those they considered beneath them. Growing up on the periphery of his world had shown her that over and over again. Servants were not thought of by many a man of title or money.
But this man was different, better in a thousand tiny ways. Kind and friendly, open to differing opinions, deferent to those who had more information or experience, even if they were not as elevated in stature. He apologized for his wrongs, he made amends for those that weren’t even his.
And sitting there, watching him, she felt the stir of those emotions he inspired. Lust, yes. And that one she could have forgiven herself for. He was handsome, after all. Many a woman probably felt a tingling in her loins when he passed by.
The real trouble came from the deeper emotions she felt. Stirrings in her heart that made her want things she most certainly couldn’t have. She and Rhys could be nothing more than acquaintances with a common goal to protect the child for whom they shared responsibility.
She blinked as she pushed to her feet.
“That was a lovely meal,” she said. “I think I shall take a short walk, if that will not slow our progress. I’d like to stretch my legs.”
“It will take us a moment to tidy up from lunch,” Nan said.
“Aye, ma’am, and there will be chores to be done before we carry on the road,” the driver added. “Take your time.”
She nodded, cast one last furtive glance toward the man who inspired such tangled reactions in her and started across the green field. She tried to settle herself by grabbing onto the sensations around her. The way the tall reeds brushed her skirts, the smell of heather, the sound of chirping birds and, when she crested a small hill, the sight of a clear, blue lake reflecting the cloudless sky above.
Water had always been a soothing influence on her. She’d loved the sea the few times she’d been able to visit it. And while this tiny lake was certainly far from the sea, she still moved toward it, hoping the lapping of the small waves on the pebbled shore would help calm her riotous mind.
She reached the edge and stood there, staring out over the expanse. Yes, this was better. A few moments here would do the trick, and then she would be right as rain again.
Except she was not left alone. Behind her she heard a voice on the breeze.
“Phillipa?”
She turned back and found no one there, but after a brief moment Rhys appeared over the rise that blocked the view of the carriage a few hundred yards away. Her heart firmly lodged itself in her throat and she pursed her lips in disgust at how quickly she was back in this place of wicked longing.
“My lord,” she said, and turned her back on him to stare at the lake again. “I did not realize you intended to join me.”
He stopped beside her, at a reasonable distance, but still too close. She could smell the sandalwood goodness of his skin even now.
“I thought your idea of stretching your legs was a good one,” he said. “This is lovely—I had no idea the lake was here or we might have had our picnic on the shore.”
She grunted her response and refused to look in his direction. He was quiet a moment and then he turned to face her. “I didn’t do something to…to offend you, did I?” he asked.
Her shoulders rolled forward. Blast and damn him, now he would make her feel guilty for being petulant when all he ever had been from the moment he met her was kind. Did he deserve that just because she couldn’t control herself? Of course not.
She drew a long breath. “I apologize if you sensed a shift in my attitude. The closer we come to Bath, the more anxious I seem to become. There are many duties to face there. And memories, not all of them pleasant.”
That was the partial truth, of course. He didn’t need to know the rest. It would only complicate things.
He bent his head. “Of course.”
“I hope you aren’t expecting a magnificent estate to greet you,” she said, worrying her hands in front of her, one over the other. “The home your brother purchased in Bath is not terrible by any means, but it isn’t the finest, either. I have kept it as well as I could, but you will likely be able to hear Kenley if he stirs at night. It’s…” She swallowed. “Close quarters.”
His pupils dilated a fraction and his gaze swept over her entire body in one heated glance. Damn, she wished he wouldn’t do that. It only made her legs clench, and she didn’t want to clench her legs around this man.
“I hope I won’t be intruding,” he said, his voice a little rougher.
“Oh no, that wasn’t what I meant,” she began.
Now they were speaking at the same time. Him apologizing for not thinking and offering to stay elsewhere, her trying to back away from what she realized now had sounded rude.
He reached out and caught her hand, she thought to stay her words, and it worked. Not because he had comforted her, but because the sizzle of awareness silenced her. She stared down at her hand in his, then back up to his face.
“Phillipa,” he said softly.
She squeezed her eyes shut. He always called her by her first name because having three Mrs. Montgomerys in the same household had been too confusing. But he had no idea what hearing her name from his lips did to her. There was something about how the sound rolled out in his voice, like a caress.
“Please don’t,” she whispered. She should have pulled her hand away, but she didn’t.
There was a hesitation of just a beat, and then he asked, “Don’t do what?”
She let her eyes open and found that he was staring at her intently now. The world faded in the blue of his eyes, and she caught her breath as she tried to find words. Thoughts. Anything at all.
“You must know what,” she whispered. “You are a man of experience, a man of the world. You must know what you’re doing right now.”
He swallowed, that action working his throat even beneath the wrapping of his cravat. It felt like the moment stretched forever, and then he stepped closer and the distance was suddenly no longer appropriate.
“Phillipa,” he whispered. She bent her head, but he caught her chin and gently tilted it back toward him. “Phillipa,” he said again, but this time it didn’t carry. It was just his lips moving to make the words.
“Please,” she murmured, uncertain if she was begging for more or for him to be the one to rein in this madness.
He chose the former, and his dark head bent toward her. She met him halfway, her hands resting against his broad chest as he claimed her lips. It couldn’t be called a kiss, which sounded sweet, chaste even. No, this was claiming. This was surrender to an animal desire that had been building for weeks. An inevitable capitulation to something they both knew was wrong. Both knew could never come to anything. They could not kiss.