To dinner, Vivienne wore a simple dress of deep emerald green. Against the soft glow of firelight she looked delicate, so dainty. Yet Evan had never met a woman with her strength and determination.
He watched her eat, consumed with strange thoughts. Love was like a potent drug, stirring a man to imagine himself a devoted husband, a father to a brood of healthy children, the master of a house filled with love and laughter. Happy.
Still, the sense of foreboding sat like a brick in his stomach. Perhaps he was trained to expect misfortune. Perhaps a man who had never uttered the word love had every right to be concerned.
He led her from the dining room, telling the footman they would stroll around the garden before returning to take refreshments in the drawing room.
“You told no one we were coming down to the lake?” he asked, draping her cloak around her shoulders as if she were a child in need of coddling. He stole any opportunity to touch her now. “And you have the fan?”
“No one knows of our plans tonight.” She placed her hand on his chest, finding a reason to touch him, too. “And you’ve already asked me about the fan.”
“Yes,” he breathed. The need to carry her to bed outweighed the need to dig a hole in the darkness. “Let’s pray we resolve this matter tonight.” He had every reason to believe they would.
She smiled, though sadness lingered in her brown eyes. “I’ve enjoyed every second of our adventure.”
He hoped this was the first of many. “Some devil may still attempt to scupper our plans.”
“Do you not think we should tell Buchanan?” she whispered.
“Buchanan is no fool,” came his cryptic reply, for he did not wish to lie. “Come, let’s hurry while the night is clear. The moon is out and will cast a modicum of light, although Mrs Elkin said to expect a storm.”
She arched a teasing brow. “Later, we should play a game of questions. I shall pick the winning card, then knock on your door, soaked to the skin, and demand to know what you really thought of me the night we met.”
He touched her again, stroking her cheek in such a way the servants would know they were lovers. “Let me save some time. I found you as fascinating then as I do now.”
Her eyes brightened. “I find you equally fascinating.”
“Me, or a certain part of my anatomy?”
“Everything about you.” And there it was—the sudden flash of desire—the sign that said one kiss would lead to a night of rampant passion.
Hell.
The wait would be the death of him.
“Let me come to your room tonight.” Never had he sounded so desperate. “There’s something important we need to discuss in the privacy of your bedchamber.” He was already imagining her thighs clamped around his hips, their sweat-soaked bodies writhing in pleasure.
“If you mean to seduce me, Mr Sloane, you must do better than that.”
Being a man who embraced a challenge, he lowered his head. “Let me tell you a secret, something I’ve longed to tell you all day. Let me whisper the words as I make you come, Vivienne.”
Her sigh was more a hum of anticipation.
She stepped back and grinned. “Then let us return to the lake and get this business over with. I’m keen to release you from this heavy burden.”
The mere mention of release played havoc with his imagination. “I’ll dig three feet, that’s all. If we find nothing, we shall resume our search tomorrow.”
At this rate, they’d be staying a week at Highwood.
A week of nightly visits to her bedchamber.
A week of pure bliss.
Yet he knew the devil would appear tonight.
They hurried to the lake, their breathless pants and obvious excitement hinting at the amorous interlude to come. Once there, Evan lit the lantern and studied the painted scene on the fan.
“Tell me where to dig,” he said, for he had lost interest in this particular adventure. Playing Livingston Sloane’s game had become tiresome. But it would be over soon.