Then Comes Seduction

There was a view down across the east and south lawns to the village in the distance. The church spire was centered in the view. It all looked very rural and peaceful.

He took her hand in his.

“What would you be doing if you had not been forced into marriage?” she asked him, reversing the question he had asked her a few days ago. “Where would you be?”

“Here,” he said. “I promised to be home for Charlotte’s birthday.”

“And afterward?” she said. “Would you have stayed?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not. Brighton is a good place to be during the summer. The Prince of Wales is usually there, and he draws all sorts of interesting people. There is much company, much entertainment. I might have gone there.”

“Do you need company, then?” she asked. She had turned her head and was looking at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “We all need company,” he said. “And entertainment.”

“Are you a lonely man, then?” she asked him.

The question jolted him. It was completely unexpected-and quite unanswerable. He answered it anyway.

“Lonely?” he said. “Me, lonely, Katherine? I have scores of friends and acquaintances. I always have so many invitations and activities to choose among, that making choices is a daily chore.”

“And do you fear being alone?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he said.

He had grown up essentially alone-with a mother and her husband and two sisters, with a houseful of servants and numerous neighbors, most if not all of whom had been kindly disposed to him. He had nevertheless grown up alone.

“People who live among crowds can be very lonely people,” she said.

“Can they, indeed?” He laced his fingers with hers. “And people who grow up in remote villages ca

“There is a difference,” she said, “between solitude and loneliness. It is possible to be alone and not lonely. And it is possible to be among crowds, to be a part of those crowds, and be lonely.”

“Is this,” he asked her, “part of the vicarage wisdom that you learned at your father’s knee?”

“No,” she said. “It is something I have learned myself.”

“And are you,” he asked her, “a lonely woman, Katherine?”

“Not often.” She sighed. “I like being alone, you see. I like my own company.”

“And I do not,” he said. “Is that your inference? You once told me that I do not like myself. Is this why I must be lonely? Because I ca

“I have a

Had she? He was not in the habit of allowing people to a

“Not at all.” He raised their hands and kissed the back of hers. “Solitude holds no fears for me. I would just prefer company. Including present company.”

“I think,” she said, “I can be happy here.”

“Can you?” he said.

“I love this place,” she said. “I love the servants. And I like your neighbors-our neighbors. Yes, I can be happy here.”

“Organizing fetes and balls and house parties and other social events?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “and just living. Just being here. Belonging here.”

“And bringing up your children?” he said. “Our children?”

“Yes.” She looked into his eyes, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“We could,” he said, “begin immediately on those children-or on the first of them anyway-if you wish, Katherine. Although, on second thought, perhaps not quite immediately.” He looked down at the bench, which, even with the leather cushion, was not very comfortable.

She laughed, though she continued to look into his eyes.

“I do want children,” she said.

“And I need them,” he said. “Or one son at the very least. So we are in agreement. We need to work on the first of those children. Almost immediately?”

She laughed again.

“It depends on your definition of almost,” she said.

“Almost is to be three weeks long, is it?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yes,” she said. “Do you not want children for their own sake, Jasper?”

He had never really thought of it. He thought now. Children of his own body. And Katherine’s. Children who could be loved and nurtured. Children who could be hurt, who could have all the spirit crushed out of them. If he were to jump a hedge one month before his son was born and break his neck, would Katherine marry another man to bring him up?

There is too much potential pain in having children, he almost said aloud. Too much risk. But he would merely expose himself more to her with such words.

He raised their clasped hands again and tucked her arm beneath his.

“Daughters to look like their mother?” he said. “And sons to look like their… mother? Children to hold and love and play with and nurture? It is an appealing thought, I must confess. And now it is possible. I am married. Yes, I will have children with you, Katherine, not just because I need them, but because I want them.”

Sometimes he was not sure himself whether he meant what he said to her or whether he spoke to impress or tease her. Though he never spoke with any serious intention to deceive. This wager was different from any other he had ever made. There was too much at stake in wi

But oh, Lord, she believed him. Her lips had parted, and her eyes had brightened with tears that she quickly blinked away. And perhaps she was right. Perhaps he did mean what he had said. He had a sudden mental image of holding a baby as tiny as Moreland’s-a baby that was his own.

Dash it all, he would be bound to drop it.

No, what he would be bound to do was love it. There would be no choice in the matter. No child of his was going to go unloved while he had breath in his body. Even a child who had just painted red, gri

Katherine had raised her free hand and was cupping his cheek with it. With the pad of her thumb she brushed something away from beneath his eye. Something wet.

Good Lord!

He jumped to his feet and stepped outside the hermitage. He moved back onto the path without waiting for her and plucked two blooms from the rhododendron bushes.

“Let me see,” he said, turning to her as she came up behind him. “One to go here in the ribbon about the crown of your bo

He pushed the stem down inside the bosom of her dress, into her cleavage, using his finger to press it down firmly. She was warm and slightly moist there, and he felt such a stabbing of desire that he was surprised he had not got an instant erection and alerted her to the direction his thoughts had taken.

“Not that you need sweetening,” he said. “But perhaps the flowers do. They will be sweetened by their proximity to you.”

“Oh, well done,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “That was one of your better efforts.”

“Do I win any reward, then?” he asked. “A kiss, perhaps?”

But, as he had expected, she merely laughed.

Lord, that was not a tear she had wiped away, was it? He had rarely felt more embarrassed in his life.

He offered her his arm and they continued along the path, which began gradually to slope downward in the direction of the lake.