The Courtship (Sherbrooke Brides 5)

“And a red nose? Perhaps a woman bending over him, her breasts nearly falling out of her gown?”

“It is the likeliest image.”

He supposed that was fair enough. A man of his proclaimed habits wasn’t necessarily given much credit for having expanded horizons. “Helen, a man who is a noted lover can appreciate other things as well. Life is not all drink and playing cards and women’s soft flesh.”

He had silenced her for the moment, he saw that, and it pleased him. He stared toward a small group of pink-footed geese who couldn’t seem to decide where to stay on the wet sand or soar up to the cliff top. Even geese had to have a leader, and so he said, ?

??A woman, even a strong woman like you, Helen, needs a man to assist her over the cracks in the roads of life.”

She stared at him, her head cocked to one side.

He pointed upward. “See the geese, now soaring upward in a nearly perfect formation? Well, they need a leader to get anywhere at all. So does a woman. She needs a man. That’s what I meant.”

“If I could fly,” she said, shading her eyes with her hand and staring after the geese, “I wouldn’t need anything at all. Even without a leader, I would be free.”

He looked again at her soft mouth and said, “Perhaps. To be truthful, a man prefers to be in bed with a woman rather than philosophizing about geese needing leaders or studying the eating habits of the leach’s petrel. However, when the man—such as myself—is very intelligent, then he can do many things at once, all of them well. Freedom for a woman, Helen, is being led by a man like me.”

Helen bent down, pulled up a yellow-horned poppy, and threw it at him.

He caught the small flower, shook off the dirt, and brought it to his nose. “Not much smell. Time for more truth—I would rather be breathing in your scent while I’m kissing your white belly.”

She turned away from him, and he imagined quite correctly that she wanted to smash him but good, but she controlled herself, saying as she pointed, “Pay attention, Lord Beecham. The land flattens out south of us. There are salt marshes that are covered with waders at low tide, estuaries that snake in and out of the low-lying land, very bad-smelling stretches where the water is trapped for long periods of time. I doubt you would appreciate that particular scent. But along here we have a more interesting coastline.” She opened her arms wide. “I own a lot of this land.”

It wasn’t worth much, he thought, but he wouldn’t mind owning it either, just for its incredible beauty. He said, “This land is like the biblical lily of the valley, Helen, it provides neither food nor a way to grow it. There is no arable farmland, no place to build homes, not even decent grazing for sheep or cattle, just the vast stretches of marram grass, pink sea bindweed, and dunes covered with yellow evening primroses.”

“I bought it because I know the lamp is here, somewhere.”

He nodded. Perhaps he would have done the same thing. The only thing was, anyone could come on this land and search. There were no fences, even though fences wouldn’t make any difference to a treasure hunter.

“There are even some rich pink marsh orchids sticking up here and there,” Helen said. “You wouldn’t enjoy it if I threw marsh orchids at you. But mainly, as you can see, there is just the harsh green shingle flora covering most everything. Yes, this is my biblical lily of the valley. I do not expect it to return anything to me, except the lamp.”

“A rather large expectation.”

“Just the search makes it worth it,” and he believed her. Actually, it would make it worth it to him as well. He watched her reach down and snap a flower off its stem. “It’s wild chamomile,” she said, straightening. “Just breathe in the smell of it, Lord Beecham. Mrs. Stockley makes a marvelous tea with it.”

“The scent is not bad, but on the other hand, it’s not you.”

Did her hand tremble at his words just a bit? Probably not. She said, “Lord Beecham, you will attend me. Now is one of those unexpected times in your life when you must attune your brilliant mind to matters other than carnal passions.”

“You wish me to forget that soft white flesh behind your knees?”

“You have never known the soft white flesh behind my knees.”

“True, I’ve been too frantic, too crazed with lust, and thus neglected the less dramatic yet still quite delicious treats that you have to offer me. I will try to find more control the next time.” He took her hand and couldn’t help himself. He stared at her mouth. “But the problem, Helen, is that I want to be inside you immediately. I want to be so deep inside you that when you tighten around me, I feel like I will fly apart and there is no more wondrous thing in life to do than fly apart inside of you. And your long legs, Helen, around my flanks, squeezing me. And just before you scream your pleasure, I love to kiss that wild beating pulse in your throat.”

“You are very fluent with words that create very vivid images, but I am not listening to you, Lord Beecham. The words you have just said have flown away on bird wings, thus, to me, they never even existed.

“There will be no next time. I have given this a good deal of thought. You will be my partner, no more, no less. Anything else makes no sense. I am serious about this, Lord Beecham. Now, it is time to get back to Shugborough Hall. It is time for luncheon, then time for work.”

He lightly stroked his fingers over her cheek, tucked a windblown piece of hair behind her ear, and leaned forward to touch his mouth to hers. It nearly undid him, but not quite.

He drew back, smiled at her, patted her cheek, and whistled as he walked away from her.

“You need discipline,” she called after him, her hair whipping into her mouth.

He turned and gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Discipline, if dished out by an expert, is a very fine thing, Miss Mayberry. Perhaps I should reconsider having a competition with you. What do you think? Could you possibly devise anything close to what I eventually will do to you?”

“You will probably be shot before that can happen.”