At first, as we walked along the path back to what was to be our shared home, neither of us had any words. I wanted to say something clever about the vicar, or about marriage, or about something interesting that I could recall from London, but the words would not come to me.

Thinking instead about the very great beauty of my beloved’s skin, and wondering whether he would touch me again, I wandered along in a daze. Every time I snuck a glance at him, I would silently sigh with pleasure, but I could not keep my eyes on him. Normally a bold young woman, I had become shy with the great excitement of my upcoming marriage.

Or rather, our upcoming marriage. I wondered what Luke thought of it all, but I could not ask him. I only knew that my arm stayed in his, and he matched his long strides to mine.

The road out of the village was broad, surrounded by fields, but as soon as we stepped onto the estate the road was surrounded by trees. And there were so many of the pines that I felt as if I could smell each of them. Except for the occasional gust of wind, the path was completely silent.

My moods were as changeable as the weather. Clouds would start to gather, and I would wonder why Luke did not speak to me, and whether he seemed to regret our decision to marry in haste. After all, it would let him inherit and it would let me get away from the horrid grandfather, but we would still probably be able to find plenty of reasons to repent at leisure.

Then I would recall the way that Luke had looked at me, with a mixture of bewilderment and fascination. Surely he was happy that we were to wed. But if he was happy, why did he say nothing? I kept trying to think up little bon mots in my head, and they went nowhere.

As soon as we came into view of the house, we were pushed together by circumstance. It began to rain once again, and now Luke lead me underneath some trees without either of us saying a word. We watched as the clouds and their rain came over the house, across the pond, over the fields, and down to where we were standing. He began to look worried, though the wind was stronger than the rain. I felt sure that our coats would protect us well enough.

“We may as well just go in,” I told him. “It’s not likely to let up anytime soon, and we’ll only get colder staying out here.”

He did not answer me, but he pushed me so that my back was against the trunk of the tree. And as he had before, he kissed me so that I forgot about every single possible reason for going back into the house.

And of course, nearly crushed beneath the body of a panting Luke Barlow, I was no longer cold. The heat of his hands on my skin neatly proved that he was not cold either. We were so warm, hidden as we were in the trees, that I wondered we did not burst into flames.

It was one of the happiest afternoons of my life, and I would have prolonged it if I possibly could. The delight of wanting Luke, and the even greater pleasure of not quite being able to have him, made me feel as if I had stumbled into a land of marvel.

If either of us had been wise to the ways of married couples, we might well have consummated our union then and there. Even in the best circles, engaged couples were usually given a good deal of time alone, and the number of babies born suspiciously soon after wedding ceremonies were complete meant that everyone knew that such things went on. In fact, the scandal that Luke was about to cause by breaking with Miss Courtenay was predicated on the assumption that couples already headed to the alter would skip ahead a bit.

But all I knew then was that I wanted to raise my legs and twist myself around my future husband, even if I did not quite know how to go about it. I could tell from the way he pressed against me that he was feeling quite eager to know me. His weapon was hard and obvious behind his fall, and I longed to touch it with my hands, not just feel it pressing against my coat. We neither of us knew how to take the next steps, but if we had been under that tree undisturbed for much longer, we certainly would have attempted to take them.

It was only when the rain was pouring down that we stopped our embraces. And then, unable to help ourselves, we started them again, Luke’s hand tight at the back of my neck, his mouth completely covering my own, his arm reaching around to the small of my back to pull me even closer. Our first attempt to stop ourselves had failed, but a flash of lightening forced us to pull our faces apart.

Well, about two inches apart.

“It is not safe here,” said Luke, still holding me fast as his eyes darted toward the sky. “We must get back to the house.”

I frowned. “That’s true, but the road is already muddy. It’s not going to be easy to get there.”

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. “Would you like me to carry you?”

I laughed out loud at this. “Carry me? Why, of course not. I can run. Probably faster than you can, at that.”

And, becoming soaked to the skin as we did it, we raced each other back to the house.