Wildfire Kiss (Sir Edward 1)

“I am sorry,” she said as she pulled away from his hand and hurried out of sight.

He looked after her, uncertain what next his course of action should be.

***

If he loved her, Babs thought, if he wanted her not to hurt, he would have chased after her and made his feelings known. He did not do so; therefore, she could only draw one conclusion. He only wanted to tell her ‘how sorry’ he was. He was a gentleman and no doubt felt guilty. She didn’t want that from him.

She hurried outside and stomped towards a path, determined to walk off the hurt in her aching heart. This was not how she’d envisioned the aftermath of their lovemaking. This was reality. She had thought it could only turn out one way, but this was where the growing up and taking responsibility for her impulsive actions was going to take her.

Yes, the Godwin woman had a theory, and she supposed it worked very well in theory, but life didn’t always adhere to what ‘should be’.

And as though to give truth to the word, she looked up and saw none other than Sir Edward trotting his bay towards her and smiling as though he had just won first prize. At that moment, she wanted to wave a wand and vanish.

He jumped athletically off his horse, in high spirits, and led the horse forward as she tried to force a polite smile. “Why … Sir Edward … what brings you here?”

“You,” he said softly. “I was in Brighton, and when I heard that you were looking after a sick friend, I immediately called for my horse yesterday and began the journey.”

“Oh … you shouldn’t have … I expect we will be leaving here any day now …” What the devil was she going to do? She was in no mood to deal with him.

“I had to see for myself that you were well … and I missed you.” His words rang true, and she felt herself blush.

She had to stop him. “Sir Edward …” she started.

“Ned, do call me Ned,” he said softly.

“Ned then … I think that we should not be out here alone like this.” She tried to appeal to his sense of propriety.

“Nevertheless, here we are, and here we must remain for a few moments longer, for I have something to say to you in private.”

She took a long drag of air. “And shall I be safe alone out here in your company?” she teased, hoping to lighten the tone.

He laughed. “You are safe in no red-blooded man’s company. However, if you think I may lay hands on your against your will, rest easy. I shan’t.”

She felt a wave of relief, for she did not totally trust Sir Edward. Something about him suggested he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Appearing bent on making her feel easy, he chatted idly for a moment about the regent and town affairs, at which point he shook his head and said, “The Prince Regent’s latest scandal will end badly. He will go insane, like his father before him.”

She nodded. “You do have a point. He is forever flitting about from Tory to Whig, and that is very poor politics, but why, sir, do you discuss this with me?” She eyed him quizzically.

“As an example of what happens when one rushes head-on into everything, as you do. Neck-or-nothing paces may end in hurting you, child.”

“I didn’t know that directness was considered a neck-or-nothing pace,” she answered, her dark eyes bright, her chin up.

Damn, but he wanted to tame her. Certes! If only she would see how good they could be together. She certainly did amuse him. He chuckled and said, “That is because you lack experience and sagacity.”

“Oh really?” Her dark eyes sparkled with the challenge. “This is my third season out, and I rather think I am not totally ignorant.”

“You misunderstand me.” He was enjoying himself immensely. She built his fire and brought him to full awareness. He didn’t want to break her spirit—he rather liked it—but he wanted her spirit loyal to him. “Passion’s Seed.” He allowed the title to hang in the air for a moment. “An interesting title, don’t you think?”

“Interesting? No. Explicit, yes,” she answered warily.

“Intriguing as well,” he continued. “In one chapter our author tells us, ‘any woman can make a man fall in love with her; but, ah the woman who can keep him so!’ What do you say, was this penned by a male or a female?” He stared hard into her lovely eyes and saw retreat.

“I understand that the author is a male,” she said lightly.

“How do you understand that?”

“Well, the author pens his name as Felix Gamble … sounds male to me.” She tried a smile, but it slipped off her face as he reached for her fingers and held them to his lips.