An Earl for the Shy Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘I will take tea when I come on Friday, if that is all right. I really must be getting along.’

  He bowed. ‘Until tomorrow, then.’

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow.’ She headed back across the lawn, before she changed her mind and went for tea instead.

  * * *

  Ethan arrived ahead of the appointed time. A good officer always checked the lie of the land before he engaged in a sortie. He’d also organised things the way he wanted them and had ascertained there were no gypsy boys lurking about. Now he would meet Lady Petra before she entered the woods. He strolled along the path to the spot where the river emerged into sunlight. From here he could see the bridge, the lane and anyone walking along from the village.

  The next person to come along was a farmer on a wagon. He pulled up at the bridge and Petra jumped down, giving him a wave as he started his horse moving again. She waited until he was out of sight, then hopped over the stile.

  Ethan waited until she was close enough to hear him. ‘Lady Petra.’

  She smiled.

  And it was if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. He glanced upwards. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. But the day definitely felt brighter and warmer. He shook his head at such nonsensical flights of fancy. They walked into the cool of the woods and when they were out of sight of the road, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and matched his steps to hers. He was pleased that she made no demur about his escort.

  When they reached the chosen spot, she released him with a sound of surprise. ‘You brought a blanket?’

  He had spread it out where the boy had been lying. ‘I didn’t think you would want to get your gown dirty.’

  She chuckled. ‘Well, I did wear something old for the task, but it was thoughtful of you. Thank you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I see you also brought fishing rods. Is that in case my method of catching fish does not work?’

  ‘Insurance,’ he said. Perhaps he should have had a bit more confidence in this guddling of hers, but, when O’Cleary had explained fully what the term meant and since the gypsy boy clearly had not caught anything by this method, Ethan had decided that reinforcements might be required.

  ‘Well, let us see, shall we?’

  She removed her gloves, her spencer and her bonnet. She was wearing a dark blue gown with the tiniest little sleeves. She stretched out on her stomach on the rug, so that most of her shoulders hung out over the water. ‘Come on, then,’ she said to him, ‘you cannot learn the way of it standing there.’

  He stretched out beside her.

  ‘Lie very still,’ she whispered, ‘and look down into the water until you see the trout.’

  At first, he could see nothing but ripples and waving weed and pebbles. Slowly, his eyes became accustomed to the watery scene and the shapes became more defined. A brown fish was right beneath him, all but his head hidden by the bank’s overhang. One really had to look hard since the fish seem to blend in with its surroundings. ‘I see it.’

  ‘First you gently ease your hand into the water, about a foot away from him.’ She suited her actions to the words. ‘You stay like this until he stops noticing you.’ The fish shifted position as if to take a look at her hand. Fascinated, Ethan watched her dangling hand. It did not move for a very long time. Eventually, the fish returned to its original position.

  She slowly moved her hand a little closer. She repeated this until the fish no longer took any notice of her at all as she gently and rhythmically stroked along its side.

  The fish seemed to go into a trance.

  ‘Now,’ she whispered, ‘I will catch him beneath the belly and toss him up on the bank.’

  With a twist of her wrist, she flipped the fish up on to the bank. It stared up at him in puzzlement. ‘Poor thing,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe that a fish would let you tickle it, then simply pull it out of the water.’

  ‘There is something they like about having their skins stroked. It seems to send them to sleep.’

  ‘It feels like a mean trick.’

  ‘But a good way to get dinner on the table if you do not have a rod.’

  The fish began to jump around. Petra dispatched it and pulled out a knife to gut it.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ he said firmly, taking the knife from her hand.

  ‘Do you know how?’

  ‘I have seen it done many times.’

  ‘Seeing and doing are not the same necessarily.’ She sat back on her heels and watched. She nodded when he was finished. ‘In your case, it seems it is.’ She turned back to the river. ‘Now it is your turn to try.’

  They lay side by side, staring into the water.

  ‘I see one,’ she said. ‘There.’ She pointed.

  He saw it, too. He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeve and lowered his arm into the chilly water. He did exactly what she had done and the fish flicked its tail and disappeared.

  ‘Slower,’ she said.

  They found another one and he lowered his hand at a snail’s pace.

  It worked. Soon he was also stroking down the fish’s side with a fingertip. The scales were slippery. The fish’s gills slowed. It let him close his hand around its belly.

  He tossed it up on the bank. Petra fell upon it.

  ‘What a beauty,’ she said.

  They continued fishing and soon had a good haul.

  ‘What are we going to do with all this fish?’ he asked. ‘I certainly can’t eat that amount in one sitting.’

  ‘Take what you want for dinner and I will take the rest. I will smoke what we cannot eat right away. It will help us get through the winter.’

  He sat up and dried his arm on his shirt tails. He was looking forward to fresh fish for dinner. Smoked fish he could do without. He had eaten far too much of it during his army days. Smoked fish. Dried meat. Hard biscuits. He certainly did not miss the food.

  They had caught ten good-sized trout and they worked together to get them cleaned, tossing the offal back into the water, where it would feed other fish.

  She grinned at him. ‘You brought your rods for no purpose.’

  ‘I am assuming that guddling is not always an option?’

  ‘No. The conditions have to be right. We would have been glad of the rods had it been cooler or cloudy.’

  ‘Well, I must thank you for my lesson.’

  ‘You are a good pupil. My brothers were hopeless at it. They could not sit still long enough. Sometimes you have to get into the water with the fish. We are lucky here, the overhanging bank makes it a perfect spot.’

  He touched the bare arm that had been in the water. ‘You are freezing. You need to put on your coat.’

  ‘I am not in the least bit cold,’ she objected.

  He gave her a look. ‘You will not be pleased if you catch a cold.’

  ‘Believe me, I don’t catch cold so easily. I must go now. I need to prepare this fish so it does not spoil, and I want to check my traps.’

  He shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

  She frowned as if surprised he did not insist more. Why would he? She would only take him to task for fussing.

  He could not, however, stop himself from saying one thing. ‘I will see you on Friday as you promised.’

  ‘If I can get away. If I am not there on Friday, I will come at the first opportunity.’

  And with that, he had to be satisfied. He rolled down his sleeve and put on his coat. Once they had split their haul, they went their separate ways.

  Or at least, she headed back the way she had come. Ethan followed her from a distance, moving quietly through the undergrowth until he was sure she was safely back in the lane. Why had he not simply insisted on escorting her?

  Because she would refuse and he really did not want to have to insist. If he did that, she was sure to turn cold on him.

  Chapter Seven

&nb
sp; Petra hurried along the path in the woods. She had not been able to get away to help Lord Longhurst with his books for five days now. She had been so busy with smoking the fish they had caught and dealing with the rabbits, then a storm had blown in, leaving Marguerite with a bad headache. Today was the first day she was able to slip away.

  The ring of metal against wood rang out through the forest. A woodcutter clearing up the deadfall, no doubt. It seemed Lord Longhurst had taken her advice on that matter also. She smiled. Not only was he a handsome, charming man, he was also the most sensible male she had ever met.

  Deciding to avoid being seen, she circled the clearing, but could not resist a peek. She started as she realised it wasn’t a woodcutter at all. It was His Lordship stripped to the waist once again and swinging an axe. The muscles in his arms rippled with each powerful strike. Sweat gleamed on his sculpted torso. The man was so beautifully proportioned with his wide strong shoulders and tapered waist he might have been used to model Atlas himself.

  Unable to resist, she crept closer to get a better look. And stepped on a twig. At the snap, he turned. Their gazes met across the clearing. Heat shimmered in the air. She could scarcely breathe for the pounding of her heart as she remained fixed in his bright blue gaze for what felt like a very long time, but must only have been seconds.

  He lowered the axe head to the ground. ‘Lady Petra.’

  ‘Lord Longhurst.’ My goodness, how breathless she sounded. She forced herself to take a deep breath and draw closer, as if he was not half-naked and radiating heat from his exertions. Indeed, he was the most tempting sight she had ever seen. ‘I was on my way to see you.’

  ‘I thought you had given up on me, to be honest, so I have been plodding along on my own and making a bit of headway.’

  Was he saying he no longer needed her assistance? Disappointment filled her. Sadly, she stared at him, drinking in the sight of him as if she was about to lose something precious and dear to her heart. Shocked by her reaction, she cast him a bright smile that felt brittle and false. ‘I am sorry I was unable to send you a note on Friday to let you know I would not be coming as promised.’

  ‘Never mind. You are here now and I have some questions.’

  Relief flooded through her. Impulsively, she touched his arm. His heat permeated through her cotton gloves and his muscles shifted slightly as if surprised by her touch. The strength beneath her fingers inspired awe. ‘I am so very happy you still need my help.’

  She gasped even as the ill-thought-out words left her lips. Yet they were honest, were they not? The truth.

  His eyes widened a fraction, as if he, too, sensed more to the words than their actual meaning.

  She swallowed. ‘I mean—’

  ‘I missed you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Your help. Your smile. I—’

  And then, without knowing who had made the first move, she was in his arms and kissing him as if her life depended on it.

  His mouth moved over hers, his lips soft yet hungry, his tongue tracing the seal of her lips, requesting rather than demanding entry. She parted her lips and welcomed the blissful strokes of his tongue and tasted the nectar of his kiss.

  She pressed against that beautiful broad expanse of chest, loving the hard feel of him against her soft flesh. Her insides tightened unbearably and she arched her back, aligning her body as close to his as possible. The blood rushing through her veins made her dizzy with excitement.

  A large warm hand lay flat on her back, holding her steady so he could explore her mouth fully. His other hand stroked over her derrière and gently pulled her close as he rocked in counterpoint to the movement of her hips.

  Pleasure became an exquisite ache in her core. Wild with desire, she ran her hands over his back and up to his lovely shaped head, where she speared her fingers through the damp curls at his nape.

  Finally, when she thought she would never draw breath again, he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

  ‘Ethan,’ she whispered.

  ‘What is it, my...dear?’

  His little hesitation gave her pause. What had he been about to say before he changed it. My love? Surely not. Perhaps he had been going to say my lady and had realised it did not really fit the circumstances. That was far more likely.

  ‘Should I apologise?’ Ethan asked, his voice gentle. ‘Because you know, I am not at all sorry.’

  She laughed, the awkward moment forgotten, and stroked his beard-roughened cheek with the tips of her fingers. ‘It is I who should apologise. I believe I caught you unawares. But I am not at all sorry either.’

  He chuckled softly. ‘You have no idea how glad that makes me.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I cannot deny that I find you attractive in the extreme and knowing that you reciprocate makes me happy.’

  Her heart lifted, then plunged as he stepped back.

  Sorrow filled his expression. ‘What has happened here, between us, makes it clear that we must not meet alone again.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Heat rushed to her face. Why was she arguing? Why was she not simply shrugging and accepting his rejection as any sensible woman would? But after the joy of that kiss she needed to know what held him back. ‘What harm do we do?’

  He grimaced. ‘None. We clearly enjoy each other’s company. And your knowledge has been invaluable. Indeed, if I had a choice, Lady Petra, I would request your hand in marriage, we are so well suited.’

  Her jaw dropped. He wanted to marry her?

  ‘But needs must. I have to marry for money. There is no help for it if I want to rescue this estate.’

  She laughed awkwardly. ‘I certainly cannot help you there, my lord. I do not have a penny to my name.’ She fixed her gaze on his face, willing him to listen. ‘Nor am I on the marriage mart. I do not seek to marry again. And since, at least for the moment, we are both free to seek our...’ How did one put this? Heat rose in her face, but she soldiered on, for was this not one of the only advantages to being a widow? ‘To seek our entertainments where we please. Does it not seem opportune that we have found each other at this moment in time? As if the fates have brought us together? There can be no doubt that there is more than mere friendship between us.’

  His eyes widened.

  She tried not to flinch. ‘Oh, dear, now I have shocked you with my boldness. I apologise.’

  He caught her hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it gently. ‘Not so much shocked, my dear, as pleasantly surprised. You are a desirable, beautiful woman. The attraction between us strikes me anew, each time we meet. But for your sake, I would not dishonour you by proposing anything untoward. Or anything that you do not want.’

  Her heart soared at his reluctant admission that he also desired her. She wanted this. She wanted him. And she was free to indulge herself, provided she did not make a scandal. Why should she not enjoy the attentions of a man she had come to like very much?

  She moved closer, ran her free hand down the bare expanse of his chest and was delighted by the way his nipples hardened in response. She looked up into his face, unable to hide her feelings of hope. ‘Then it seems we are perfectly in accord in our desire for a brief affair.’ She glanced around at their surroundings. ‘And who knows how many opportunities the future will offer us to be alone? Should we not make the most of it right now?’

  His voice deepened and became husky. ‘I am honoured that you trust me enough to make such an offer.’

  ‘But?’

  He groaned. ‘But nothing. I have no willpower where you are concerned.’ He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. After a few heady moments he drew back and gave her a small peck on the cheek. He left her side and she felt a sudden chill until she saw what he was about. He collected a bundle on the ground she had not noticed before. His coats and shirt and, of all things, a blanket.

  ‘I planned to eat luncheon out here, so I co
uld get as much work done as possible today,’ he explained at her quizzical look. He spread the blanket on a patch of soft green moss beneath the limbs of a large oak. ‘A soldier learns to take along what comforts he can,’ he said, grinning up at her from his knees on the grey wool blanket. He held out his arms to her with the expression of a naughty boy who has just found something wonderful, like a grasshopper or a frog, and had plans for it.

  ‘How exceedingly fortuitous for me,’ she said, shaking her head at him and going to him with laughter bubbling in her chest.

  She hadn’t felt quite this giddy since she was a girl. She sank down on her knees beside him and he undid the strings of her bonnet. He carefully removed it and set it aside. ‘Now I can see your pretty face properly,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘And kiss you properly, without fear of crushing your hat.’

  He did just that and as she gave herself up to kisses that were almost magical, he gently eased her back on to the blanket so that he was leaning over her, kissing her lips, nuzzling at her throat and exploring her ear, until she felt like she would explode with the heat and pressure building inside her. Her core ached for his touch, for the pressure of his body against hers. Out of pure self-preservation of her sanity, she took his hand and placed it where she needed it. He lifted his head and smiled down at her.

  ‘Anxious, are we?’

  She was panting and scarcely breathing for the excitement bubbling in her veins. Why had she never felt such overwhelming sensations before? It was almost unnerving. She’d enjoyed making love with Harry, mostly. It was really the only time that it seemed as though she’d had his full attention, once they were married. But the storm going on in her body right now was making her dizzy. She did not understand it all. ‘It would seem so,’ she gasped.

  Realisation dawned on his face, along with a hint of regret. His dropped a small kiss on her nose. ‘Yes. Of course. You have missed your husband.’

  That wasn’t it all. But how could she explain the wildness inside her that had been building since the moment she met him?