She turned her face from her contemplation of the darkness beyond and shook her head. “You have nothing for which to apologise.”
He swallowed. It was taking him some moments to recover from the exertion of this extraordinary encounter. Now that his mind seemed in reasonable working order once more though, he waited for her considered reaction. Would she show shame, embarrassment, and remorse? That’s what ladies—of all stations in life—did after they had been enthusiastic participants of sexual congress, and though it hadn’t reached that point, Miss Montrose had been surprisingly enthusiastic.
What might have happened if Rufus hadn’t, by a hairsbreadth, retained his gentlemanly instincts? For he’d certainly awakened a fire of desire within this quiet, contained, young woman. Perhaps something had been unleashed when she’d shattered that stillness that was so much a part of her essence, her fascination, by plunging into the lake to save the children.
Perhaps Rufus had unleashed its twin. That other side. The sexual side about which young ladies mustn’t speak. Yes, the ice maiden he’d thought her was a wildcat when it came to desires of the flesh.
He was struck by an even greater appreciation of her hidden depths. Before this latest encounter, he realised he’d intended offering for her. Regardless of whether she would inherit, he would make her his bride.
The thought filled him with such a great happiness, he moved to embrace her, cement what had just happened with a kiss.
But she drew back, shaking her head, though a faint smile played about her lips.
Her eyes sparkled, and her teeth were white. It wasn’t just the moonlight imbuing both with perfection. She really was perfection, he thought with satisfaction. And she was going to be his wife.
“Miss Montrose,” he began, staring like a mesmerised moon calf at the top of her beautiful shining hair.
Feeling another wave of tenderness, he gently removed an errant stalk from those magnificent tresses and waited for her to raise her head to him once more.
He cleared his throat and prepared to go down on bended knee. It might not be the most auspicious time or location, but a man who intended to do the honourable thing, ought to make his intentions clear at a moment like this. No point in having Miss Montrose toss all night in agonised fear that she’d almost given herself to a cad. “Miss Montrose, I would like to ask you—”
The pressure of her hand which prevented him from kneeling, and the tone in her voice, took him by surprise.
“Please, do not say anything right now, Mr Patmore.”
A moment’s uncertainty cut through his happy expectation, but her smile was reassuring. “I have a lot to think about.” She pressed her lips together. “My aunt has just died, and there will be people coming from all parts tomorrow. Please don’t complicate matters just at this juncture.”
Rufus wasn’t entirely certain he liked the way she phrased this. He hadn’t complicated matters ‘at this juncture’ all on his own. But then, he quickly counselled himself, he was being churlish simply because Miss Montrose wasn’t ready to hurl herself into his embrace and weep with relief over his timely marriage proposal that would rescue her from all uncertainty.
He nodded and offered her his arm. “If that is your wish.”
“We can talk about Devil’s Run if you like,” she said, resting her hand on his coat sleeve. “That is, since we have a little walk before I’m home, and I really don’t know what to think about this very strange day. Though I certainly am, as Aunt Montrose has said, the very wickedest and undeserving of young women.” Sh
e gave a short laugh. “And now you’ve experienced that for yourself, haven’t you?”
“If you think I condemn you for something in which I had as much a part too—”
“Please, Mr Patmore!” She held up her hand to silence him. “Let us entirely turn the topic. I am immensely grateful to you for all you’ve done for me these past two days. Please don’t let a moment’s…rashness…make you say or do anything you may regret for a lifetime.”
He could feel himself gaping like a fish. She was giving him a reprieve. No, it didn’t mean she didn’t want to marry him, but that she wanted him to be sure he wanted to marry her. By sleeping on it and asking her in the morning.
“By God, you are an astonishing woman,” he said, and he truly meant it. Miss Montrose was entirely the kind of wife he realised he both needed and wanted.
And the reading of old Miss Montrose’s will would change nothing. Regardless of whether Eliza Montrose was left penniless or in possession of a fortune, she could accept Rufus’s marriage offer in the happy knowledge that he’d been as willing to ask for her hand regardless of the outcome.
Together they trod the moonlit path, chatting companionably, their minds as attuned as their bodies had been, but with no sense of awkwardness or embarrassment.
And though it would have been nice to have kissed her once more in parting, he was happy that she clasped his hand warmly when saying good night. He read the desire in her eyes, but he understood she wanted a night to digest the momentousness of the day.
Happily, he returned to his lodgings, more than ever fired up by the thought that in the morning he could look forward to the rest of his life as the husband to that diamond of the first water, Miss Eliza Montrose.
Eliza knew she’d not sleep. By the time Mr Patmore had returned to her, and she had, by the utmost strength of will, resisted the impulse to call him back, her connection to reality felt reduced to the merest thread. She was physically and emotionally exhausted as she stood by her casement window and watched that lovely gentleman walk away.
What would it be like to wed a man who was thoughtful and kind and so marvellously passionate? She had no shame and certainly no regrets about what had happened this evening. In fact, it surely was the most fortuitous of encounters, for it reminded her that she had a heart that could beat with an excitement inspired by more than the need to save lives, such as when she’d plunged into the lake.
The last couple of days had reminded her what it was to feel romantic love when she’d thought her heart a dried-out husk.
And, therein, was the rub. What was the point of making this discovery on the eve of pledging herself to a man she knew she could never love?