Mary’s entire body was tying itself into tight little knots of unsated need. Every heated look and sensual touch made her want to reach out and grab Caleb and never let go. She wanted to feel his lips against hers again, his hands on her body, caressing in ways she could only imagine. And she wanted to run her hands over him, too, and explore the rippling muscles she’d seen on his arms when he’d stood shirtless before her at Clearview during the rainstorm. She wanted to slide her fingers across his broad back and clasp his solid shoulders.

But can you trust him?

He lied to you once. Most egregiously.

This was true. But it was also true that he’d tried to warn her, that he was at heart an honorable man with no more desire to be a duke than she had to be a duchess. But law of inheritance had determined his fate, so if she wanted a life with him by her side, then that was the price she must pay.

Did she love him enough to do so? To ignore her aversion and marry into the very society that had mocked her and shunned her and made her leave London?

The answer was yes. Yes, she did. Especially when he was prepared to go against all expectation and give her the world. “A cottage,” she murmured bemusedly as she climbed into the carriage. Only a simple man with simple needs would ever suggest such a thing with the kind of eagerness he had shown.

She watched him take the seat opposite her and suddenly wondered if in his effort to please her, to make up for what he had done, he was putting aside his wants in favor of hers. “We could do something else,” she began, drawing his attention. “We could hire staff to run the orphanage while we live elsewhere on the estate. In a cottage like you suggested.”

A slow, affectionate smile tugged at his lips. “Is that what you want?”

“It is not all about me, Caleb. It is also about you and what your wishes are.”

His smile widened. “My wishes will be fulfilled the moment we are wed.”

As much as she appreciated such a selfless notion, she would not let it distract her. “But would you prefer to live in a cottage or in a grand manor?”

“Honestly?” She gave a firm nod. “My home in France was small, consisting only of one bedchamber, a parlor and a kitchen. I was very content there, as I was in the cottage I lived in at Clearview.” Leaning forward, he reached for her hand. “I do not need or want anything beyond that, except you and your happiness.”

“That is a very roundabout answer and not very helpful.”

He grinned. “Very well. If it were entirely up to me, I would pick the cottage, but I fear my estates do not have any, except the ones already inhabited by the caretakers.”

“Then you must build one,” she said. It wasn’t something she had thought of until this very instant.

He stared at her. “Build one?”

“Yes.” She was warming to the idea of it already – especially if it would allow her to watch him roll up his shirtsleeves and show off his arms. “It makes perfect sense, does it not?”

Caleb blinked. “I suppose…” He refocused his gaze on her. “You would support me in such an endeavor?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled in an almost bashful way that stole into her heart and prompted it to expand. “No one has ever done so, Mary. Not my father or my mother.”

“Only because they have preconceived ideas of what the son of a duke is expected to do. But I am more progressive and far more open to new ideas.”

An eyebrow rose and his eyes darkened to glistening shades of blue. “Is that so?”

A shiver scraped the length of her spine in the most delicious way possible. She nodded and made the effort to voice her remaining thoughts on the matter. “We can stay in the main building until the cottage has been completed, if that is agreeable to you. And we will go to London each spring so you can attend to your parliamentary duties. I shall not deny you that, and besides, the occasional ball might not be so bad.”

“You do realize I have not yet proposed?”

“And I have not given my answer either, but that is just a small formality at this point, don’t you think?”

“Indeed I do, Miss Clemens.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her kidskin-covered knuckles while gazing into her eyes. You’ll always be mine, they seemed to say, and that thought alone made her belly swirl like champagne being poured into glasses.

The carriage slowed and they exited onto the pavement. “We’ll be a couple of hours, Charles,” Caleb informed his coachman while Mary braced herself against a sudden gust of icy wind. Tiny snowflakes danced through the air, melting the moment they hit the ground. “If you would like to take a break and return for us later, please go ahead. I do not want to keep you out in this chill.”

Thanking him, Charles tipped his hat and urged the horses onward. Caleb put his arm around Mary and hastened her toward the restaurant door. A waiter opened it wide to grant them entry, and Mary stepped forward, into the dim interior where hundreds of candles cast shimmering light across the limestone walls.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” a finely dressed man said. “Your table awaits. This way please.”

He led them toward a circular stone staircase where niches filled with lighted candles illuminated the stone steps. Reaching the bottom, he showed them to a table tucked away in a private corner behind the stairs. Again, candles scattered about on every available surface produced a golden haze of flickering light that faded into darkness. It was without a doubt the most romantic place Mary had ever visited, perhaps the most scandalous too, considering the seductive atmosphere.

“Some wine?” the man who’d shown them to their table inquired once Caleb had helped Mary take her seat and he’d lowered himself to the opposite chair.

“Do you prefer red or white?” Caleb asked Mary.

“Red, I should think.”

Caleb nodded his agreement. “One bottle of Chȃteau Lafite please, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Excellent choice, Your Grace.” Mr. Jarvis handed them each a crisp piece of parchment containing the menu and went to see about the wine.

“May I make a recommendation?” Caleb asked as soon as they were completely alone.

Mary looked up from the list of delicious foods. “Of course.”

“The lamb was excellent last week when I came to ensure that the standard was still as good as I remembered. For dessert, I suggest trying the profiteroles.”

“Are you fond of sweets yourself?” she asked, setting the menu aside.

He quirked his lips and deliberately held her gaze for an extended moment before quietly saying, “I am fond of you.”

Caleb appreciated the color rising in her cheeks, further accentuated by the candles which afforded her with a lovely pink glow.

“That is not what I was asking, Caleb.”

“I rather think it was,” he said. Her blush deepened as she timidly dropped her gaze. He loved flirting with her, making her lose her composure, and seeing her nerves reveal the profound effect he had on her.

Mr. Jarvis returned with the bottle they’d requested and filled their glasses. He then took their order of food before leaving them alone once more. It was hard to believe it was only a little after noon. The muted lighting seemed to trick the brain into thinking it was late in the evening, which was one of the things he’d always enjoyed when coming here. Not only did the place have excellent food and an atmosphere fit for seduction, it also allowed for the nonexistence of time since the hour was always the same here, morning, midday, or night.

Caleb picked up his glass and waited for Mary to do the same. “So what do you think so far?”

“You were right,” she said, clinking her glass against his. “It is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I love the mood.” She twisted in her seat and glanced about, the movement tightening the bodice of her gown in a way that would make any man lose his wits. “The element of respectability mixed with a splash of salaciousness invites a certain lapse in propriety.”

God help him. If she said anything more, he would have her against the wall and to hell with whoever happened to see them. He drank his wine, gulping down half his glass in a desperate attempt to control his baser needs.

“I’ll need to dig a foundation,” he said, latching onto the first non-sexual thought that entered his head, hoping it might cool his ardor.

She knit her brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“For the cottage,” he explained. “How big shall we make it?”

“You mentioned only one bedroom before, and that is sufficient for us don’t you think? If we ever have guests we can put them up in the manor.”

“But what of the children?” he asked her seriously, for it was quite possibly the most important question after asking her if she would be his wife.

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head and regarded him with a puzzled expression, as if he’d just told her he bathed in milk and wore gloves to bed. “We already agreed they would be in the manor as well.”

He smiled at her sweetly and slid his chair so it was perpendicular to hers. Taking a moment, he moved his plate and silverware, too, before leaning into her warmth and murmuring, “I was speaking of our children, Mary.” Running his knuckles down the length of her arm, he listened to the cadence of her breathing alerting him to her full awareness. “We will have at least five, I suspect, so that is a minimum of three bedchambers if we are to be comfortable. More, if you want each child to have his or her own.”

“I…er…”

Mr. Jarvis returned at that moment, saving her from having to respond to his pointed allusion to the passionate marriage he intended for them. Their plates were set before them and Mr. Jarvis excused himself once more. Caleb cut his lamb while Mary did the same.

“Would you like to have a small garden of your own?” he asked. “One separate from the estate’s?”

She chewed her food and washed it down with some wine before answering. “I do not know. It is not something I have even considered.”

“You took excellent care of the roses at Clearview, so I thought you might have an interest there.”

“I do love flowers,” she admitted. “And herbs are very useful.”

“Vegetables too,” he said and popped another piece of meat in his mouth. It melted on his tongue, leaving behind a rich, smoky flavor infused with mint and cracked pepper.

“We can make a vegetable and herb garden just like the one you had in France.” A smile of enthusiasm animated her face. “What shall we put in it?”

“Tomatoes are my personal favorite, but we should also have some cucumbers, runner beans, and all manner of root vegetables like carrots and beetroots.” They were planning their domestic future together, and Caleb was enjoying every second of it. This was so much better than parents making all the important decisions for a bride and groom because this was after all their life, not their parents’, and Caleb had every intention of making sure they lived it as they chose. On their own terms.

But that did not mean there weren’t practical issues to consider.

“I would like to discuss the settlement with you,” he told her once they had finished their meal. Mr. Jarvis had been to remove their plates and refill their glasses, and they now awaited dessert. “When we attended the assembly, Mr. Townsend brought up your dowry.”

Mary nodded. Her eyes had grown distant, and her expression was now guarded. “It consists of ten thousand pounds.”

“That is no small sum.”

She scoffed. “Mr. Townsend was more than eager to put it to good use on his farm.” She lowered her gaze and proceeded to study the edge of the table. “How do you intend to spend it?”

Realization dawned and he reached for her hand, clasping it firmly between his own. “I have no need for your fortune,” he blurted with every intention of making her see that all he wanted was her. “My intention is to grant you full control of your dowry, so you may use it as you please.”

Raising her head with a jolt, green sage eyes stared back at him in wonder. “But as my husband, you will have every right to control it.”

“Control is the last thing I want,” Caleb said. “And you are an intelligent woman, Mary, so I know you will spend your money wisely.”

“You are…” Her lower lip started to tremble, and he saw to his sudden dismay that tears had pooled against her lashes. They shimmered like dew drops caught in the early morning light, and they made him ache with an overpowering need to pull her into his arms and just hold her.

“Handsome and roguish?” he offered and waggled his eyebrows.

To his immense satisfaction she laughed. “That too, but I was going to say the most wonderful man I have ever known.”

“Because I am letting you keep what ought to be yours?” He hoped there was more to it than that.

She shook her head quickly. “Because you are kind and considerate. I have known it ever since you brought a branch into the Clearview parlor and whittled it into a fishing rod for Peter.”

Caleb leaned back just as Mr. Jarvis returned with their profiteroles. Setting them on the table, he offered a sweet port which he poured into a fresh pair of glasses. “Is everything to your satisfaction?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mary said and Caleb concurred.

“It has all been delicious so far,” he told Mr. Jarvis. “Our compliments to the chef.”

Pleased, Mr. Jarvis excused himself and vanished. Caleb stuck his fork into his profiterole and was just about to cut a bite off when he glanced at Mary and saw she’d beaten him to it. White cream decorated her lips, and as he watched, she licked it away with the tip of her tongue.

Heat flared, deep in his belly. No other woman had ever tempted him as thoroughly as she did. She took another bite of dessert, and his muscles flexed at the sight of her drawing the pastry from her spoon. His body started to thrum with the need to touch her. Instead, he took a bite of his own dessert, savoring the moist vanilla-flavored filling.

“I meant to add something before when I mentioned your consideration and kindness,” Mary said as she set her dessert spoon aside on her now-empty plate. Pausing, she seemed to struggle a little with how to phrase her thoughts. Eventually, she met his gaze and told him simply, “You should know that I’m losing my heart to you all over again and that this is—”

Unable to resist any longer, he pressed his mouth to hers.

She tasted delicious with an undercurrent of tartness because of the port. Placing his hands on either side of her face, Caleb held her steady and deepened the kiss. She sighed in response and set her palm tentatively against his chest for added support. The pressure pushed at his beating heart, quickening it until it was racing like a wild stallion across the moors.

Curling one hand around the nape of her neck, he slid the other toward her back and pulled her more firmly against him. She was all soft, pliable curves against his much harder form. Placing a kiss at the edge of her mouth, he continued kissing his way along the side of her jaw. Eyes closed, he inhaled her aroma and brushed her tenderly with his lips. She smelled like jasmine on a warm summer breeze, reminding him of sun-kissed evenings in France where the small white flowers had clung to his garden wall in a fragrant burst of seduction.

Breathing her in, he nuzzled against her and surrendered to the intoxicating effect she wrought on his senses. Her fingers combed through his hair, directing him back to her mouth. He captured it once again, this time with increased urgency and to convey one message above all else: I want you. Right now. In my bed.

They were in a restaurant, for goodness sake, where any number of people could happen upon them at any moment. But Mary did not care. She couldn't explain what had come over her except to say that it wasn't a ‘what’ but a ‘who.’ Caleb. He was using his mouth in the most provocative way, and she, wanton that she apparently was when in his presence, was enjoying every thrilling moment. 

The possessive way he held her with his strong arms cocooning her body completely, one large hand cradling her head while the other supported her back, suggested he meant to conquer her in the most agreeable way imaginable. Welcoming each advance, she adjusted her position and dropped one hand to his thigh. Without even thinking, she tested the hard, well-defined flesh by pressing down into him with her fingertips.

He responded with a rough growl and nipped at her lips with his own until she grew dizzy. “Resisting you is a true act of discipline, Mary.” He leaned back a little, allowing her to see that his eyes were gleaming like polished glass lit by moonlight. “But I am determined to court you properly, which means I must resist you a while longer.”

Disappointment found a strange companion in gratitude. Even so, she could not stop from asking, “Why?”

“You know the answer to that as well as I do, even if you do not feel like listening.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, scraping the lobe with his fingers in the process. A shiver went through her, tickling her insides and curling her toes. “Trust me in this,” he implored her while withdrawing further. “We have to wait.”

“Perhaps I ought to propose to you,” she said. Now that she'd made up her mind about what she wanted, she was starting to lose her patience with the whole courtship process. She felt like running with full speed ahead, and he was asking her to walk.

“Please don't.” Raising her hand to his lips he pressed a tender kiss against her knuckles. “It would ruin the entire plan.”

Sighing, she allowed a faint smile while searching his eyes for the truth she knew could be found there. “Does there have to be one?”

“To secure your heart and regain your trust? Absolutely.”

She saw the truth then, flickering like sunshine falling between forest foliage to dance upon a lake. Love, so pure and so simple, it lifted every unhappy moment she'd ever known and swept them away forever.

“Very well,” she agreed, “we shall do it your way and follow the plan.”