After parting ways with Lady Laura immediately after luncheon with the promise of reconvening with her on the terrace an hour later, Milton Finigan Hedgewick, Duke of Lamont, enjoyed a quiet reprieve in his bedchamber. Mostly because he needed to clear his head and cool his ardor. Christ! He’d never expected to be so physically attracted to her. Nearing his fortieth year and still consumed by anguish, he would have imagined himself incapable of experiencing such bone deep desire, and yet, she’d stirred a thirst in him that would not be easily quenched.

It was unsettling since he doubted she felt the same – that she ever would. The age difference was simply too great. He laughed with misery and tossed back the rest of his brandy. Offering her comfort, a prestigious position, and vast amounts of wealth was one thing. Lusting after her would be entirely different. She was unlikely to welcome it while he…He expelled a tortured breath. If only he were ten years younger. Perhaps then he wouldn’t seem quite so old.

Rising, he pulled on his jacket and went to the door. Maybe he should reconsider his intention to court her. She deserved someone closer to her own age – someone with a happier outlook on life. He, on the other hand, should seek someone else. A widow, perhaps? Reaching the stairs, he paused to consider. No. He’d evaluated every option and decided nobody else would do. Not if he were to think of Beatrice and Gemma and not if he were to marry the woman who drew him in ways no other ever had. His nieces needed a youthful mother with a lively disposition, while he craved her kindness.

With renewed resolve, Milton wound his way through the maze of hallways that would lead him out to the terrace. But the moment he arrived there and found her waiting, her youthful face so open and trusting, his moral compass began to tremble. Would he truly be able to make her happy?

“Your Grace?” She must have seen his hesitation, for her smile began to fade.

“Forgive me.” He strode toward her, the heels of his boots sweeping softly against the snow dusting the terrace like confectioner’s sugar. Reaching her, he stared at her upturned face, his gaze sliding across her rose-colored lips and up to her liquid-blue eyes. “Perhaps we should take a moment to consider the consequence of keeping each other’s company.”

She didn’t even flinch. Rather, she linked her arm with his and proceeded to walk, leaving him with no other option than to accompany her. “If the lack of a chaperone is your concern, you may rest assured my maid and a footman will be present. They have simply gone ahead in order to set up chairs and blankets for us.”

“I should have thought of that.”

“They have also prepared the skates. So unless you intend to break your promise to me…”

He drew her to a halt and turned her toward him, his heart thudding against the tightening of his chest. “I would not do so without good reason. It is just…” Oh hell! He was going to have to be honest. “My feelings for you are such that it might be best if you kept your distance.”

This seemed to confuse her. She considered him from beneath a heavy frown. “Whatever do you mean?”

In all of his eight and thirty years, Milton had never – not once – felt himself blush. How could he possibly tell this innocent creature how much he desired her, of the hunger she instilled in him, that even now as she stood before him covered from head to toe, his fingers itched to rip the clothes from her body? Obviously, he could not.

“I am in need of a wife,” he told her bluntly, because really, there was no point in denying the fact. “And I had set my sights on you – hence my reason for seeking your company and wishing to watch you interact with Beatrice and Gemma.”

“You were interviewing me?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the whole debacle. “But I have since reconsidered.”

“You have?” Her voice sounded weak.

“I cannot deny my attraction to you or how well you would suit as a mother for Beatrice and Gemma. You have been on my mind since the first time I met you in London last spring. But I fear it would be selfish of me to pursue you in earnest. You deserve a younger man by your side, not someone you’ll eventually have to nurse.”

Raising her eyebrows, she addressed him with measured words as she quietly asked, “Are you sickly now?”

“No, but it’s a fair guess that half of my life is behind me.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. Her eyes rested on his, and then she abruptly turned and resumed walking. “Are you coming?”

Blinking, Milton hurried after her. “My lady, I—”

“Laura, if you please.”

The informality shook him to his core. He tested the name, allowing it to slide across his tongue with quiet reverence. “Laura.” Quickening his pace, he reached her side and grabbed hold of her arm so he could guide her down the steps toward the lawn below. “Did you not hear what I said?”

“What I heard, Your Grace, is that you wish to court me, but that you’re afraid I’ll be unhappy if we choose to marry. You think making me your duchess would suit everyone except for me, and so you have decided to spare me. Is that the gist of it?” Reaching a graveled path, they continued toward the lake, where the servants could be seen waiting for them.

“Yes. I suppose it is.” He drew her closer, inhaling her scent of jasmine as he did so. It made his senses come alive with a sharp awareness that did little to lessen his interest in her.

“As noble as your concerns may be, I would like the opportunity to make my own choices for my future.” She tipped her nose up, her cheeks pinking in response to the chilly breeze. “I may not be more than twenty, but I do know my own mind, and although you may wish to convince me that you are an ancient fossil–” He coughed, receiving a frank stare in return. “—with nothing but misery to offer, I disagree.”

They arrived at the spot where the chairs had been placed. She took a seat, as did he, his eyes settling on the pair of skates waiting at his feet. Did he really have to do this? Laura certainly wasn’t hesitating. She was already strapping one onto her right foot. “How can you so easily dismiss our difference in age?” He reluctantly reached for one of the skates and started putting it on. “It may not be so apparent now, but it will become so as we grow older.”

“You assume a great deal, Your Grace.”

“Milton.” He glanced hastily in her direction before starting on the other skate. “If I am to address you by your Christian name, then you must do the same with me.”

“Very well then, Milton.” She stood, even as he did his best not to fall apart at the sound of her speaking his name with such care and respect. And then she was suddenly crouched before him, helping him with his skate in an intimate way he ought to prevent but could not bring himself to do. “You have your worries, and I have mine. For one thing, I fear I would not be refined enough. My fingers are always stained by ink. There’s really no preventing it, given my passion for writing. And as much as I wish I could talk about politics with you, I fear myself incapable of it. So then, perhaps it is I who should spare you from having to endure a messy simpleton.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded by her admission. “You cannot possibly believe such things would bother me.”

“Do they not?”

“No.” He reached for her hand, turning it over in his while he stared down at the dark blotches marking her skin. “And I would never ask you to give up your writing. Rather, I would encourage it.”

The smile she gave him in response was magical. It pulled him to her, so close he could see the deeper shades of violet darkening the edges of her eyes. “Then let us dispense with this conversation and focus on compatibility instead. For one thing,” she said, helping him to his feet, “the man I marry must be able to skate.”

“Surely you jest?”

A laugh escaped her. “Of course I do.” Linking her arm with his, she guided him toward the edge of the lake. “Try to keep your balance as well as possible.”

Carefully, he followed her out onto the frozen water, testing his stability as he went, one inch at a time. “I feel like I’m made of wood.”

“It takes some getting used to, and fear of falling isn’t helping. Do you think you can try to relax?”

He made an effort, but she was right. “Ever since the accident, I’ve been afraid of things that never worried me before. But if a simple carriage ride could lead to such disaster, then…”

Unwinding her arm from his, she grabbed hold of his hand, comforting him with her touch. “The Countess of Darkhaven fell down a flight of stairs years ago and broke her neck,” Laura reminded him. He stumbled a little but managed to regain his balance. “Accidents happen, but if you constantly try to avoid them, you’ll find yourself locked up in a room, without courage to venture outside.”

She was right. Of course she was. So he swallowed his apprehension and slid one foot forward like her, then the other. “Am I doing this right?”

“You are doing splendidly, Milton.”

Her words warmed his heart, encouraging him to continue. And as he eventually grew more confident, accompanying her at a moderate pace, he felt free for the first time since receiving word of his father’s and brother’s demise. Who knew overcoming an obstacle – of running toward it rather than away – could be so liberating?

“Thank you for this,” he called to Laura while they skated past the Endurance. The massive ship was no longer used for sailing but rather for hosting romantic dinners during the warmer seasons of the year.

“You’re smiling.” Slowing her pace, she eventually pulled him to a halt with her.

“Am I?”

She nodded. “Perhaps you ought to go skating more often.”

Staring back into her sparkling eyes, he couldn’t help but agree. He glanced around and noticed they were well out of sight from the shore, hidden behind the Endurance’s port. It was a rare opportunity – a welcome one. And yet … “We should probably get back.”

“Yes.” But rather than set off again, she remained where she was, her eyes brimming with the sort of expectancy that was likely to burn right through him.

“If we don’t…” She came a bit closer, and he expelled a ragged breath. “You cannot possibly know what you do to me.”

Her lips parted ever so slightly before she dared ask, “Will you tell me?”

A rush of air filled his lungs on a sharp inhale. Christ, she was brazen, and he…he was tempted to do things the gentleman in him would never before have allowed. But this was it. She was asking, and so he would tell her and let her run— or skate—as fast away from him as she was able.

“I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. If we marry, I believe you’ll be faced with many sleepless nights since I’ll be trying to bed you at every available opportunity.” Her eyes had gone wide, no doubt with trepidation, shock, or horror, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’ve lit a fire in me that must be fed – a need impossible for me to ignore. I…I fear such a fate will not be to your liking.”

“Because there are nearly twenty years between us?” Raising her hand, she set her palm against his cheek. The soft leather of her gloves was cool against his skin. “You think me incapable of sharing your attraction?”

“You cannot possibly.”

“So then, you imagined we would enjoy a marriage where I would simply do my duty while you take all the pleasure?”

He was well past his prime and planning to take her to bed, selfish bastard that he was, though he was doing his damnedest not to be. “It wouldn’t be right. I am aware.” He blew out his breath and pushed his hands through his hair. “I never meant to be quite so drawn to you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s a bit insulting.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be.” Why couldn’t he say the right thing? She tipped her head in expectation. “What I mean is that I thought we might have a companionable relationship, one in which you would be spared from…ahem…having to perform on a…er…regular basis.”

Closing her mouth, she allowed a mischievous smile. “Did it ever occur to you I might wish to perform on a regular basis?”

“No. Never.” He could barely hold himself upright at the idea she might.

“Perhaps I’ve had some wild imaginings of my own.” She licked her lips. “Maybe you’re not the only one who dreams of engaging in passionate bedsport.”

“Dear God in heaven!”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh dear. Have I scared you off now?”

“No, Laura. Quite the contrary.” And although he felt horribly awkward, poised as he was on a pair of skates, he closed the distance between them and lowered his mouth onto hers. Yes! She was warm and welcoming – a perfect treat for him to enjoy – and she was making the most delightful sounds. Sweeping his arms around her, he angled his face and deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness while savoring the feel of her body pressed against his. She was all pliable curves beneath her pelisse and gown, and he couldn’t wait for the chance to unwrap her completely, his breath already heavy with the heat of his desire.

“Christ, Laura, you make me want to claim you right here, right now.”

“With the servants waiting on the other side of the ship?” she asked with a giggle.

He kissed his way along her cheek. Reaching her ear, he quietly whispered, “We’ve been gone for a while now. In their minds the deed has likely been done already.” And then, in an act of lust so apart from his otherwise stoic nature, he held her in place and pushed up against her. The sigh she emitted almost undid him, but his purpose kept him on course as he told her severely, “Take a moment to consider if this is what you truly want, Laura, because once I have you, there’ll be no going back.” Releasing her, he retreated to add an arm’s length of distance.

“I—”

“One week to think of your future. On that I must insist.” Even though not having her at this point would likely be the death of him, he had to give her this chance for certainty. “If you still want me after that, I shall be yours, as you shall be mine.”

He didn’t fail to notice the flare of desire that sparked in her eyes as he said it. But he had no illusion it might be brought on by circumstance – a natural reaction to a man’s attention and the lust-induced kiss he’d delivered. What he needed was to know she truly felt this strongly for him, that he was the cause of her need and not merely a means by which to sate it.

With this in mind, he held out his hand. She grabbed it with only a small degree of hesitation, not saying a word while she guided him back to shore. And although she kept quiet, he noticed the flush that crept into her cheeks when they eventually parted. He’d affected her, no doubt about it. All he could do now was hope he’d done so enough to convince her a lifetime with him would be filled with immeasurable pleasure.