“But that is far more than we were paying before my father died!” Merry eyed the older man who had adopted a smug, sort of I know everything look as soon as she had stepped in the door.

“I am sorry, my lady, but that is just the way it is. For that many candles, I must charge you that much. You are welcome to buy from elsewhere...”

She narrowed her gaze at the candlemaker. He knew full well she would have to negotiate with someone in Brycesbury—the nearest town—if she did not buy from him, and the chances are the price would be no better. Whether they would treat her any better than Mr. Langford did, it was hard to say. The man clearly thought her incapable of running her brother’s household and was taking advantage of the fact she had never done it before. Even so, she was not foolish.

“I fail to see why the cost of candles has increased by nearly twenty percent. Your materials are unchanged.”

The dark-haired man gave a shrug. “It’s business, my lady. It’s hard to explain.”

His patronizing tone made her breaths feel hot. For his age, Mr. Langford was an attractive man with short dark hair peppered with gray, a strong jaw, and clear blue eyes. His work kept him muscular too. She had never really had occasion to talk to him before now but as soon as she had stepped foot in the chandlery, he had tried to charm her. When he had realized that would not work, he had become condescending.

“Either the costs of your labor have increased within a month’s time or the cost of your materials have. Or have you perhaps purchased new tools?”

His jaw tightened. “As I said, my lady, you are welcome to purchase from elsewhere.”

Merry clenched the order for candles in her hand until the letter shook. The house needed hundreds upon hundreds of candles to remain lit. It was an extremely profitable order for Mr. Langford, and she knew he did not wish to lose it. But he also knew she had little choice. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them rapidly away.

Spinning on her heel, she stomped out of the building. Fresh sea air struck her face, instantly cooling the heat in her cheeks and eyes.

She inhaled deeply. She must not cry, she must not cry.

Exhaustion made her bones ache and her mouth dry. Running a household the size of Whitely Grange was no mean feat.

Yes, she knew well enough how to plan meals and organize the servants, but it was the other things—like buying enough candles so they did not all have to sit in the dark. Not to mention the running of the estate land and handling problems with tenants. Her father had never anticipated she might have to fill her brother’s shoes for a while and neither did she. She was making it up as she went, and it meant late nights after working at the dower house, and little sleep.

And far too much stress. Especially when arrogant men like Mr. Langford thought he could take advantage of her because of her sex.

Pressing fingers to either side of her temple, she drew in another breath but felt her chin quiver. Oh, if only Daniel would return home, or these winds would abate. No doubt the crossing would take twice as long with such choppy seas. If it was bad just in the cove, it would be awful out at sea.

“Is all well?”

She lifted her gaze and bit down on her lip. Of all the people to meet, it would have to be Harry. Just when she was at her weakest moment. He peered at her from under the brim of his hat, his eyes filled with concern. It made the tears well up again.

“Y-yes, all is well,” she managed shakily.

A brow rose. “Is it?”

She sighed. “It’s just that Mr. Langford is trying to charge me an exorbitant amount for candles. I know he has raised the prices because he is dealing with me.”

“Indeed.” He glanced at the slip of paper in her hand. “Is that the order?”

She nodded.

Harry snatched the paper off her before she could protest. “Won’t be a moment,” he said cheerfully, ducking into the doorway of the building.

Merry opened her mouth to protest but it was too late—he had vanished into the shop. She huffed and pressed her back against the whitewashed wall. This was not what she wanted. She was a strong woman. A woman who was meant to be learning to function alone. Without the help of men. But now Harry had swept in and taken over, and she was left standing around like a fool.

Several moments passed. Perhaps Mr. Langford would not acquiesce to Harry either. Merry was not sure if she would be pleased or not. She needed those candles, but not at that price. The estate could not afford such a rise in expenses, and she had no wish to appear as though she could not handle things while Daniel was gone. But at the same time, if Mr. Langford would not budge for Harry either, she would feel a little vindicated. Perhaps it was not about her sex after all.

Harry’s expression when he left the building had her in no doubt that it was entirely to do with her sex.

He handed her back the order slip. “All arranged,” he declared.

“At the original price?”

His lips quirked. “With a slight discount for inconveniencing you.”

She stared at him, at his confident expression, then at the agreement that stated a discount. To her dismay, a sob bubbled out of her. Harry’s expression quickly changed to concerned.

“Merry?”

She covered her mouth and turned away. Tears sprung from her eyes and dripped quickly down her cheeks. It was all too much.

How was she meant to achieve everything she wanted whilst doing a job she never thought she would do?

“Merry?” Harry put a hand to her shoulder, twisting her around to face him. “What on earth is the matter?”

“I cannot even find the time to work on my translation!” she blurted and tried to turn away.

She had no time, and no help. It was all so much harder than she expected. The estate manager was excellent but treated her much like Mr. Langford did, as though she were a child who had no brain in her head. How utterly lonely it was trying to run an estate on her own.

“Come.” He glanced up the empty street and took her hand.

She had little willpower to resist. The morning had left her drained and boneless. Her eyes and lungs hurt from trying to hold back all the emotions simmering just below the surface. She let Harry lead her out of the village onto the hills that overlooked the sea.

The wind blew fiercely, and she pressed a hand to her bonnet, but the day was not cold. The sea covered the horizon, broken up only by a few fishing boats. Even with a heavy covering of cloud, the cove was beautiful. The semi-circle beach offered up almost white sand and the sea was known to be bluer here than many other places in England. Sometimes she forgot how wonderful Lulworth was and how lucky she was to have such beauty a mere walk away.

Harry released her hand. She could feel him watching her while she eyed the scenery and drew in calming breaths. Finally, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For...” she waved a hand back toward the village. “For that. For being so snippety.”

“For crying? For being defensive? I do not think you have anything to apologize for, Merry. Mr. Langford was trying to take advantage of your situation.”

“What did you say to him?”

“That I was not impressed with him taking advantage of a grieving young woman and that I would take Lulworth Castle’s business elsewhere if he did not rectify the situation.”

Merry gave a soft smile. It was still aggravating that Mr. Langford would only negotiate with Harry but, for the moment, she would take the reprieve. It was one less thing for her to worry about.

“Thank you.”

“I am sorry you are having to deal with these things alone.” He stepped close, touching a finger to her cheek. “If there is anything I can do...”

“I am sure you have enough work, looking after your own estate. I knew it kept my father busy, but I did not understand quite how much work was to be done. And I am certain I could manage it,” she said hastily, “but I was never taught any of it. I am having to learn as I go.”

“You always were a quick learner.”

“Not quick enough. I fear the whole estate will have crumbled to pieces in the fleeting time Daniel has been away.” She clamped her bottom lip under her teeth as another swell of emotion rose up within her.

He reached for her and she was powerless to resist. Harry drew her against his chest. He smelled of spice and soap, and he was warm, oh so warm. Muscular too. She knew all this, of course, but her mind would not let her forget that fact. In Harry’s embrace, she had never felt so protected, so...so unalone. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady heartbeat as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

He rubbed a hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. All the anger and frustration fizzled away, leaving her relaxed but...well, slightly achy and hot. Once the emotion had died down, she became too aware of that muscle, too wrapped in the scent of him. She should pull away and yet she could not. Her limbs were utterly useless, rooting her in place.

He eased back and used a finger to lift her chin. His green gaze searched hers. A little wind riffled his hair and she found her gaze dropping to his lips. They looked soft and warm. From memory, they probably would be. Suddenly, it did not matter how windy or exposed it was, she was too damned hot. Somewhere inside her, a voice whispered. It warned her to flee. To tear from his arms. Unfortunately, that voice was overpowered by another. Stay, it told her. Stay and kiss him.

The loud voice triumphed. She remained in his arms and let him smooth a hand across her cheek.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you, Merry?”

The words created something warm and fluffy inside her. Which was ridiculous. She had never much cared about her appearance. Her hair was too curly and hard to maintain and after a good bout of sun, her freckles grew too dark. No one had ever called her beautiful. If anything, she was...acceptable. Nothing more.

But, damn the man, the words took their intended effect. She almost felt beautiful as he eyed her, his gaze tracing what had to be every inch of her.

His other hand rested on her lower back, keeping her close.

“Every time you speak, every time you look at me, I feel as though I am powerless.” His words were slightly husky. “All I can think of is how much I want to kiss you.”

She could create no words. Her mind tried to wrap itself around Harry’s confessions, but it could not. Instead, she gaped up at him, utterly lost to the magic of his voice and his body.

Harry tilted his head. Breath held, she waited. He’s going to kiss you, Merry. She wanted to argue with that stupid voice. She knew very well he was going to kiss her. And God help her, she wanted to be kissed. It didn’t matter that this was Harry—a rake of the highest regard—or that they were out in public and all it would take was someone to walk by to ruin her forever. Had she learned nothing from her friends?

Apparently not. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of his warm palm, then the brush of his breath over her lips. Behind her closed eyelids, Harry was just a man, a friend, a gentleman, and they were not out in public but somewhere secluded and safe.

His lips upon hers galvanized her. It was a sweet kiss for a mere moment, until the torrent took hold. When she latched her arms around his neck, he made a raw sound in his throat that sent thrills through her. The feeling of being beautiful remained. The sensation of being wanted and adored and capable of stirring such passion in this man made her feel powerful.

Stop, that quiet voice muttered somewhere. She searched for the louder voice, the one that urged her on and discovered that it had been her all along. Once Harry coaxed apart her lips with his own and brushed her tongue with his, the voices were gone, and it was only her and Harry.

Her and Harry and this delicious, delicious kiss. She was starting to understand all the epic love in Greek myths. If some of the characters kissed like this, no wonder they all did ridiculous things in the name of love.

Merry pushed her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and felt the softness of the strands. In response, he held her closer, forming her body to his. She fit him like oil pouring into a bottle, filling every curve and nook. She could not be quite sure where she started, and he ended anymore, only that it felt too right to be here, wrapped in his embrace and drinking in the taste of him.

A ripple of wind riffled her hair. It whispered to her, taking the place of her sensible inner voice. But she could not break away quite yet. She drew back slowly, loosening her hands from around his neck then letting him ease the kiss to a gentler one until he pressed one tender one upon her lips. Merry opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his pupils dark.

“Merry, we should be together. You cannot deny you want me.”

The words were a cold, stark shock, as though a wave had reached up from the sea and swept her away. Of course, she wanted him. Physically. But how could she have been so foolish to give the man an inch? The smug smile quirking on his lips made her push away from him.

He released her.

“You think this is a game?” Her hands shook, so she clenched them at her side. “Anyone could have seen us.”

“I think we were both aware of that,” he drawled. “And I do not think this is a game. If it is, I am losing sorely.”

“How so? You can get away with kissing any woman you like at any moment. I, on the other hand, certainly cannot kiss a man without consequence.”

Damn him, why did he have to look at her in that way? With that sort of wry amusement that warmed his eyes and sent them digging straight down into her soul. If she let those voices dictate to her again, she’d be back in his arms before long.

Remember your friends. Yes, remember them. Remember the pains they had been through at the expense of men. And she could not forget Harry’s history. She never thought he’d be the sort of man to play games with a woman he purported to respect so she could only conclude that he was bored, and his mind had tricked him into thinking he had feelings for her. Perhaps he did have some, but they would be minor and fleeting.

Unlike hers. It would be all too easy to fall entirely for Harry, and where would that leave her when he tired of her?

Much like her friends—heartbroken and aggravated by the world of men.

“I am losing, Merry, because it is utter agony to be around you and not be allowed to touch you or kiss you. I am losing because you keep denying what is between us and what it could—what it would—become.” He took off his hat and swept a hand through his hair. “I have cared for you for a long time, Merry. I should like to do that for the rest of my life too.”

The words struck her hard in the chest. How easy it would be to believe that. To fall into his arms with promises of being cared for by him for the rest of her days. But it was all a lie, it had to be.

“You are lying to yourself, Harry. I could not keep you content for long. You are not a foolish man, you must know that.”

“You are right. I am not a foolish man. I know myself and I know what I want.” He put his hat back on. “What I want is you.”

She folded her arms over her chest as if she could prevent the words beating into her heart. “You will see that you are wrong soon enough.”

He shook his head. “No, you shall see that you are wrong, Merry. It is only a matter of time.”

“You will be waiting an eternity I fear.”

He shrugged. “You’re worth the wait.”

Oh lord, how was she meant to keep her defenses up against such words? She turned away and eyed the horizon, picturing her friends and their vows. She recalled Arabella’s recent hurt. Even if she could survive such heartbreak, what sort of friend would she be if she turned on her vows to them? No, he could say all the honeyed words he wanted but she would not give in.

Harry came to her side, leaning in and making her skin prickle. “Are you going to the kite festival tomorrow?”

She frowned. Why had he gone from declarations of...well, something...to the kite festival?

“Um, yes.”

“I shall see you there then.” He eyed her for a moment. “Be careful, Merry. something strange has been going on at the house, I’m certain of it. I would not wish you to come to harm.”

She shook her head. A bit of wind and a broken door did not add up to danger, not to her mind. Still, she turned to face him. “I will be cautious,” she promised. Why she even owed him such a promise, she did not know.

“Good. I could not live with myself if anything happened to you.”

She tightened her arms about herself. “Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Stop with your words. Your-your nice words. I cannot stand them.”

“I had no idea nice words were so offensive.” Harry chuckled. “I shall see you tomorrow, Merry, but I cannot guarantee what sort of words I will use.”

Merry avoided watching him as he left her on the hilltop. Tomorrow was the annual kite festival where all the villagers and some visitors from surrounding towns would bring their kites to the beach and fly them for everyone to see. It had always been something she looked forward to—it was the sort of socializing she quite enjoyed. There was no need for polite conversation or silly rules that she could never quite get her head around.

Now, however, she could not decide whether she was looking forward to it or dreading it.

You cannot wait to see Harry again. She rolled her eyes at herself. That voice needed to go.