Read on for an excerpt from :
Colin MacHugh and Miss Anwen Windham share an interest in a certain Home for Wayward Urchins. After a morning gallop in the park, they tarry on a bench, discussing the children, and touching on a few other topics…
Anwen unpinned her hat, or whatever the thing was. A toque, maybe. Her wild gallop had set it slightly askew.
“You think the boys will consider working on the grounds a reward?” she asked. “I thought house servants ranked above the outdoor servants?”
Colin took her hat from her, examining the collection of pheasant feathers and silk roses that had probably cost a footman’s monthly wages.
“I think we do best that which we enjoy most.” He enjoyed kissing and that which often followed kissing exceedingly. “If a boy is to spend his entire life at a job, it had better be a job that he has some aptitude for. Let the fellow with a passion for horses work in the mews, and the fussy young man who delights in a perfectly starched cravat become a valet. It’s all honorable work.”
He was being a Scottish commoner with that sentiment.
“That’s sensible,” Anwen said. “Sense is what the orphanage needs. Not good intentions, or idle talk. Common sense. What are you doing with my—Lord Colin?”
He’d pitched the thing with feathers into the bushes five yards off, so it hung from an obliging branch of the nearest maple.
“Come,” he said, taking her by the hand. “The squirrels have no need of such fetching millinery, and the grooms are busy with the horses.”
“Right,” Anwen said, rising. “Enough serious talk, for now. I’m full of ideas, and can’t wait to put them into action.”
“Exactly so,” Colin said, leading her into the deep shade beneath the tree. “Time to put a few well chosen ideas into action.”
Also a few foolish ones.
He made sure they were safe from view, drew the lady into his arms, and kissed her, as a snippet of her earlier words settled into his imagination. She’d said he’d given her hope.
She’d given him hope too.
*
Nothing penetrated Anwen’s awareness except pleasure.
Pleasure, to be kissed by a man who wasn’t in a hurry, half-drunk, and all pleased with himself for being brave enough to appropriate liberties from a woman taken unawares by his boldness.
Pleasure, to kiss Lord Colin back. To do more than stand still, enduring the fumblings of a misguided fortune hunter who hoped a display of his practiced charms might result a lifetime of security.
Pleasure, to feel lovely bodily stirrings as the sun rose, the birds sang, and the quiet of the park reverberated with the potential of a new, wonderful day.
And beneath those delightful, if predictable pleasures, yet more joy, unique to Anwen.
Lord Colin had bluntly pronounced her slight stature an advantage in the saddle—how marvelous!—and what a novel perspective.
He’d listened to her maundering on about Tom, Joe, John, and Dickie. Listened and discussed the situation rather than pontificating about her pretty head, and he’d offered solutions.
He’d taken care that this kiss be private, and thus unhurried.
Anwen liked the unhurried part exceedingly. Lord Colin held her not as if she were frail and fragile, but as if she were too precious to let go. His arms were secure about her, and he’d tucked in close enough that she could revel in his manly contours—broad chest, flat belly, and hard, hard thighs, such as an accomplished equestrian would have.
Soft lips, though. Gentle, entreating, teasing…
Anwen teased him back, getting a taste of peppermint for her boldness, and then a taste of him.
“Great day in the morning,” he whispered right at her ear. “I won’t be able to sit my horse if you do that again with your tongue.”
She did it again, and again, until the kiss involved his leg insinuated among the folds and froths of her riding habit, her fingers toying with the hair at his nape, and her heart, beating faster than it had at the conclusion of their race.
“Ye must cease, wee Anwen,” Lord Colin said, resting his cheek against her temple. “We must cease, or I’ll have to cast myself into yonder water for the sake of my sanity.”
“I’m a good swimmer,” Anwen said. “I learned very young, and one doesn’t forget. I’d fish you out.” She contemplated dragging a sopping Lord Colin from the Serpentine, his clothes plastered to his body….
“Such a sigh,” he said, kissing her cheek. “If ye’d slap me, I’d take it as a mercy.”
“I’d rather kiss you again.” And again and again and again. Anwen’s enthusiasm for that undertaking roared through her like a wild fire, bringing light, heat, and energy to every corner of her being.
“You are a bonfire in disguise,” he said, smoothing a hand over her hair. “An ambush of a woman, and you have all of polite society thinking you’re the quiet one.” He peered down at her, his hair sticking up on one side. “Am I the only man who knows better, Anwen?”
She smoothed his hair down, delighting in its texture. Red hair had a mind of its own, and by the dawn’s light, his hair was very red.
“No, you are not the only one who knows better,” she said, which had him looking off across the water, his gaze determined.
“I’m no’ the dallyin’ kind,” he said, taking Anwen’s hand and kissing it. “I was a soldier, and I’m fond of the ladies, but this is… you mustn’t toy with me.”
Everlasting celestial trumpets. “You think I could toy with you?”
“When you smile like that, you could break hearts, Miss Anwen Windham. A man wouldn’t see it coming, but then you’d swan off in a cloud of grace and dignity, and too late, he’d realize what he’d missed. He wouldn’t want to admit how foolish he’d been, but in his heart, he’d know: I should ne’er have let her get away. I should have done anything to stay by her side.”
I am a bonfire in disguise. “You are not the only one who knows my secret. I know better now too, Colin.” She went up on her toes and kissed him. “It’s our secret.”
Order your copy of !