Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

His foreboding deepened when she withdrew her hand. "I'm going to leave you."

Those words beat such a death knell that it took him a few bleak moments to realize she was still talking. "I'll return to London on my own. I need time to think, and I can't think when I'm with you."

He needed a few more seconds to understand that she wasn't closing the door between them forever. "When can I see you again?"

The shake of her head expressed exasperation rather than denial, thank God. "Here's where I need you to cooperate. I ask you to leave me alone until I've questioned my heart and worked out what I want." Her helpless gesture sliced at him. "I can't expect you to understand. I hardly understand, myself. But you've thrown me completely off course. I'd intended to live alone and devote myself to Brandon. I had no plans to remarry."

"And you're still grieving for Henry."

She nodded. "Love doesn't let you go easily. Not real love."

He had a grim inkling that he was about to discover that for himself.

"So you want me to sit patiently and do nowt until you decide for or against me?" He sounded churlish, but he couldn't help it.

Her glance was amused but fond. "Perhaps patience is asking too much. But yes. With the rest of our lives at stake, you can grant me a couple of weeks to reflect on my decision and come to terms with what has passed."

"And if I won't agree?" Although what choice did he have?

Her jaw set in the stubborn line he'd first seen when she'd insisted upon joining a stranger on a frantic chase. "I'll know I can entrust neither myself nor my son to your care."

He scowled. "That's harsh."

"I know you're used to being in charge. After five years, so am I. Think of this as a test."

"How long must I wait?" he asked, still disgruntled. Now he'd tasted her, he didn't want her miles away, weighing his good and bad qualities. Especially as he had a horrid feeling that he was no competition for her beloved Henry.

Her eyes sharpened, reminding him yet again that her fragility was deceptive. "You don't have to agree."

"If I don't, you'll walk away without a backward glance."

"Never so coldhearted as that, but you've heard my proposal."

"And you've heard mine—if you decide in my favor, we're getting married."

She looked startled, although why she should, he had no idea. After all, he could make ultimatums, too. "Now who's being uncompromising?"

He smiled. "The future promises to be interesting, doesn't it? It won't be a quiet life."

"So you agree?"

"Aye. When I have to, I can take the long way to my destination. I just wish I believed you felt a similar commitment."

She made a conciliatory gesture. "Everything has happened so fast. I haven't stood on solid ground since you stormed into my house and bullied the servants. I have to be sure."

Compassion flooded him, stronger than resentment. "Fenella, you can't be sure. Not completely. You just have to trust that your heart and your good sense lead you right. I know losing Henry shattered your world, and you're terrified that might happen again. But you can't spend your life afraid to take the next step."

"I still need to think."

"Don't think yourself back into isolation."

Displeasure darkened her eyes. "I asked you not to badger me."

A mixture of frustration and affection flattened his lips. "No, the wooing can wait until you make up your mind—which strikes me as a blasted widdershins way to go about things."

"Good." She paused. "Thank you."

"What about Brand? He's welcome to stay at the Beeches."