The moment Owen’s lips touched hers all of Scarlett’s pain, from her pounding head to her throbbing hands, faded away into blissful oblivion. Desire unfurled inside of her belly like a wild rose. Dormant and withdrawn during a long, cold winter its petals bloomed bright and bold at the first true hint of warmth.

He kissed her softly, almost hesitantly, his mouth a mere whisper as he nibbled teasingly at her lips. But having waited so long to feel the sun on her face again Scarlett wanted more than a whisper.

Reaching up with both hands she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and gave a good, solid yank, demanding he come closer. A low throaty growl rumbled in his throat as he obliged her, sinking down as she arched up.

She ran her fingers through his dark silky hair. The kiss deepened, their tongues meeting as their mouths slid open. And it was the same and it was different and it was everything she could have dreamed and nothing like she could have ever imagined.

He cupped her breast, his thumb flicking across her nipple. She moaned from the pleasure of it, and the wonder. To be touched again by someone she loved… there were no words to describe the feelings that were pulsing through her body.

It was more than lust. More than desire. More than passion.

It was hope in its truest form, and she wanted more.

Grass tickled her cheek as Owen gently lowered her to the ground, cushioning her head and neck in the crook of his arm. They stretched out side by side, their gazes not quite meeting even as their hands explored each other’s bodies, skimming across hard edges and soft curves before their mouths met in another kiss that left Scarlett reeling.

She pressed herself against him, felt the hard bulge of his arousal against her thigh. Then tasted his moan as she stroked him through his breeches.

Owen’s blue eyes were wild as he rolled her onto her back. His breathing harsh and uneven as he held himself above her with his arms locked and his jaw clenched. Courtesy of her fingers his hair was disheveled and there were four red scratches on the side of his neck where her nails had bitten him.

“We need to stop,” he gritted out, his gaze darting in the direction of the road.

Scarlett started to protest until she followed the direction of his stare and saw the gleaming black top of a carriage slowly making its way towards them. As reality set in her entire face suffused with color. She had allowed herself to be so swept up in their kiss that she’d completely forgotten where they were! Not in a bedroom, or a library, or even a house for that matter, but within sight of a main road where anyone who happened by could see them rutting about on the ground like animals. And she was a widow in mourning!

Well, a widow who was supposed to be in mourning. She certainly had not been thinking about Rodger while Owen was nibbling on her bottom lip, or cupping her breasts, or tracing the curve of her ear with his tongue…

The carriage was getting closer. With a gasp of alarm she rolled out from underneath Owen and sat up, her hands instinctively going to her hair. What had once been a neat coiffure was now a mess of tangled curls. While Owen tucked his shirt back into his breeches, she scoured the ground for the pins he’d pulled loose and managed to find four of them hidden amidst the long blades of grass. Not enough to replicate the sleek up do Ruth had styled for her before she’d left the house this morning, but at least she was able to quickly fashion her hair into something that did not scream, ‘I have just been kissed senseless’.

Wordlessly Owen extended his arm and she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, wincing as the fog of their passion rolled out and the pain from her fall rolled in.

Heavens, but she was going to be sore tomorrow.

“Where are the horses?” she asked.

“Over there.” He pointed to a tree several yards away and Scarlett saw both her mare and his gelding grazing quietly beneath it, their reins tied to a low-hanging branch. “Remain here. I’ll go get them.”

She would have offered to accompany him but he was already striding away. Left alone beneath the tree that had witnessed the reawakening of their passion, Scarlett leaned against its broad trunk and worried her swollen bottom lip between her teeth as she wondered what they would do next. More specifically, what Owen would do next. She knew what she wanted. It was the same thing she’d wanted since their eyes had met in the village square all those years ago. She may have taken the long way around, but she’d eventually ended up where she was always meant to be. The only question that remained was if Owen had done the same.

If she were to make a decision based on the passionate kiss they’d just shared, her answer would be a resounding yes. Yes, Owen wanted her and yes, he wanted to be with her. As her friend. As her lover. As – she barely dared to think it – her husband. But if there was one thing she knew to be true it was that the heart did not see life in black and white, but rather in every shade of gray imaginable.

Owen desired her… that much was clear. But he didn’t yet trust her, and then there was the little matter of Rodger’s death to contend with. Although after what they’d just shared she was confident Owen no longer considered her a suspect. If he ever had to begin with. Maybe it had just been a clever ruse to get close to her again. If so, it had worked marvelously.

“Do you think you can ride?” he asked when he returned with the horses and handed her Fancy’s reins. “Your estate is not far. Only another half mile or so down the road.”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t doubt that I will be sore for several days, but it is nothing that a hot bath and a glass of wine cannot fix.”

“In that case I will return to the village.” To her frustration his expression was once again shuttered, his eyes revealing nothing as he met her gaze. If not for the grass stain on his shoulder and the scratches on his neck she might have thought she’d dreamt the entire thing! “Unless you would like me to escort you home.”

Of course she wanted him to escort her home. Then she wanted him to escort her right up the stairs and into her bed. But she wanted him to want to do it or else what was the bloody point?

It struck Scarlett then. What she needed to do. It was so blatantly obvious that she laughed.  

“Are you sure you are all right?” Owen asked, frowning at her with suspicion as if the fall had somehow addled her brain.

“I am wonderful,” she grinned. “I am positively wonderful. Thank you very much for your offer, but it will not be necessary. As you said my estate is less than a mile.”

“Very well.” Yet he continued to stand there and frown until she waved off his concern with an airy flick of her wrist.

“I am fine. I promise. If you will help me mount I will be on my way. No doubt Felicity will be wondering where I have been.”

Owen stilled. “Felicity Ashburn?”

“Yes. Although I suppose she will start going by her maiden name again. Wouldn’t want to have two Lady Ashburn’s once her bastard of a husband remarries.” Just thinking about it was enough to heat Scarlett’s blood. “Felicity and her children are staying with me until they get back on their feet.” Or until we’re all thrown out on our ear, she added silently.

There was no telling how long it would take before Rodger’s closest male heir would lay claim to the estate, but until he did Scarlett intended to remain. She had done her time, hadn’t she? She had been a good wife. Perhaps not a dutiful or particularly obedient one, but she’d played the part in public. She had ignored Rodger’s affairs – for the most part – while not indulging in any of her own. And she hadn’t killed him even though he deserved it for what he’d done to Felicity.  

“Is something the matter?” Her head tilted to the side when she noted Owen’s odd expression. He suddenly seemed unsettled, though she could not imagine why. “I was under the impression you and Felicity were friends. She mentioned you met for tea a few years ago.”

“We did. I was simply unaware she and her children were staying with you.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Yes, well, opening my home to them is the least I can do after the abominable way I treated her. I am sure, living in London, that you would have heard of our falling out.”

“Bits and pieces,” he acknowledged with a clipped nod. “But I never put much stock in gossip.”

Her mouth curved. “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want you to think worse of me than you already do.”

“Do you need assistance mounting?” The deliberate change of subject was not lost on Scarlett, but she decided to let it slide.

For now. 

“Yes please.” Dusting off her jacket the best she could she waited for Owen to bring Fancy around. He held the mare’s reins in one hand and lifted her right leg with the other. On the count of three he boosted her effortlessly into the saddle, but instead of letting her go as soon as she was settled in the tack his hand began to travel slowly up the back of her calf, sliding under her heavy riding skirt to the delicate silk stocking beneath.

Scarlett’s breath hitched, her eyelids growing heavy when he passed her knee and slid up her thigh, stroking his thumb across her bare flesh. He went higher still, caressing her hip before his fingers delved between her thighs. When he touched the blonde curls nestled above her damp sex she moaned and arched her back, all but purring with pleasure. 

“Soft,” he murmured. “You always did have the softest skin. And the hardest heart.”

Her eyes flew open to find him glaring up at her, his countenance torn between loathing and desire. “Owen I–”

“You’ve always been my greatest weakness. Did you know that?” He gave a disgusted shake of his head before he slid his arm out from beneath her skirt and stepped back. “Leave, Scarlett. Please leave before I say or do something I will truly regret.”

Taking him at his word, she silently gathered up her reins and dug her heels into Fancy’s sides. Eager to be moving again the chestnut mare bounded forward with an excited toss of her head.

But even as she left Owen behind, Scarlett was already thinking of when they would see each other again and what she would do when they did.  For now that she knew the effect she still had on him, it was only a matter of time before she seduced him into her bed… and found a way back into his heart.

 

“Anne, please put that down. Henry, do not climb on that! Oh for heaven’s sake,” Felicity cried in exasperation as she leaped forward and caught a vase just as it began to topple off the bookshelf her six-year-old son was dangling from. “Outside,” she ordered, pointing at the door. “Nanny will get you dressed.”

Anne’s little mouth fell open. “But–”

“No,” Felicity said with a firm shake of her head. “No ‘buts’ or ‘ands’ or ‘ifs’. You are going outside, and that is final.”

Henry snickered. “You said butts!”

“There are two different kinds of – never mind. Darcy, can you please be a dear and take the children? Hats and cloaks, I think. It is still a bit chilly and I do not want them to catch a cold.”

“But o’course, me lady.” Her Irish accent rolling off her tongue, Felicity’s nanny hurried forward and clapped her hands to get the children’s attention. Darcy may have been a young woman of only sixteen with a spattering of freckles that made her appear even younger, but she had a way with children that went well beyond her years. “Come along, Master Henry and Lady Anne. Give your blessed mother some peace and quiet.”

‘Thank you’ Felicity mouthed as her two little hellions were led away. She waited in the parlor until she heard the front door close and then it was a mad dash up the stairs and into her bedchamber for, as Darcy had so eloquently put it, some blessed peace and quiet.

Felicity loved her children. There was nothing in the world more important, and without them she did not know how she would have gotten through her very public and very humiliating divorce. But there were times – like this morning – when she wanted to wring their beautiful little necks.

Crossing to her writing desk, she sat down in a large velvet chair and picked up her goose feather quill. Tapping it thoughtfully against the side of her cheek for a few moments before dipping it in the inkwell, she crafted a short letter to her mother letting her know that things were ‘going splendidly’ and there was ‘no cause for concern’ and that she would visit ‘very, very soon’.

All lies, of course.

Things were not going splendidly and there was a great cause for concern and she wouldn’t be visiting anytime in the near future, but she saw no reason to worry her mother.

Finishing the letter with her customary signature, she blew across the paper to dry the ink before folding it into a neat square and tucking the square inside an envelope. When a quick search of her desk did not turn up a wax seal she left the letter on the desk and went to look for one in Scarlett’s room.

With her thoughts on other things and her head bowed, she did not immediately see the man crouching in front of the dresser. Since his back was to her and the sound of her steps were muffled by the thick rug he did not see her either. In fact, neither one of them saw the other until they were practically right on top of each other.

“Oh! I am terribly sorry,” Felicity exclaimed. “I did not realize Lady Sherwood’s bedchamber was still being cleaned… You’re not a servant!” By the time she realized the stranger staring up at her with the most arresting pair of amber eyes she’d ever seen was not, in fact, a member of the staff it was too late. With uncanny speed he had a hand over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her narrow ribcage before she could so much as utter a scream.

“Easy love,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear as he held her snug against his chest. “No one has to get hurt. Ye weren’t about to yell for help, were ye?”

Tears gathered in the corners of Felicity’s eyes as she shook her head from side to side.

“That’s what I thought. So here’s what we’re going to do, love. Are ye listening?”

She nodded.

“That’s a bright lass. Now I’m going to slowly remove my hand and then you’re going to go sit on that chair in the corner. Do ye see it? Good,” he purred when she nodded again. “You’re not going to scream or try to run or cause a fuss. Are ye love?”

“No,” Felicity gasped when he loosened the hand covering her mouth. “I’ll be quiet. I promise. But my children –”

“Are outside with their nanny. Go on, then.” He gave her a not-so-gentle push and she stumbled forward, catching herself on one of the bedposts. For a second she considered making a run for the door. It was so temptingly close. Only a few feet at most. But the stranger must have been able to read her mind because his eyes suddenly narrowed and he pointed directly at the chair. “Sit,” he said, commanding her as if she were a dog. “Now.”

With her heartbeat thrumming in her ears Felicity hurried to do as he asked, not wanting to incite his anger. Drying her tears with the cuff of her spencer jacket, she forced herself to take several deep, even breaths. Falling into hysteria wouldn’t help her children. For their sake – and her own – she needed to keep a calm, level head. Who knew when they might return inside, or what this horrible man would do to them if they did?

To look at him one would not immediately think he was horrible. He was of medium height and build with brown hair that held just the tiniest curl and long sideburns that extended all the way down to a narrow chin. There was nothing very distinguishing about his features, save a bulge in his nose that hinted at violence and those vivid eyes that were the color of warm gold. But then Felicity knew better than most that men had a way of hiding their deepest, darkest selves behind a charming smile and a charismatic demeanor.

As she watched him move from Scarlett’s dresser to her large jewelry box, she was reminded of a fox. Sly, cunning, and sleekly handsome.

Bold as you please he pried open the lid and began sifting through the dozens of glittering necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, all of which were worth a considerable fortune.

Scarlett was going to be so angry.

“You’re a thief then,” said Felicity.

“I used to be,” he replied cheerfully even as he picked up an emerald hair comb, whistled under his breath, and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. “Now I am more of a… connoisseur of fine things.”

“That is the same thing as a thief!” she cried indignantly.

“Is it?” His head canted to the side as he thought it over before he shrugged and lifted up a long string of pearls. “I suppose it is.” Biting down lightly on one of the pearls he shook his head and dropped them onto the floor where they coiled around his boot like an ivory snake. “I never take anything from people who cannot afford to lose it.”

“That does not make it right.”

“Ah,” he said, lifting a finger. “But does it make it completely wrong?”

“Yes! Yes, it does.”

“Well, to each their own I suppose.” A gold ring followed the emerald hair comb into his pocket before his eyebrows shot up. “What have we here?” Digging to the bottom of the jewelry box he closed his fist around something and pulled it out. Holding his hand flat, he uncurled his fingers one at a time to reveal a large sapphire earring surrounded by tiny diamonds.

“Do ye recognize this?” he asked.

Felicity gave the earring only the most cursory of glances before she turned her head to the side and looked deliberately at the far wall. “I am not helping you.”

He approached her with slow, catlike strides. Taking her chin between his thumb and pointer finger he steadily applied pressure until she had no choice but to look up. When she finally met his hard amber gaze she sucked in a startled breath, stunned by the transformation that had taken place.

Gone was the affable rake with the charming grin. In his place stood a cold-eyed criminal with a stare so fierce it sent chills racing down her spine.

“I’ll ask ye one more time, love.” His silky voice slid across her skin like fingertips, lifting the downy hairs on the nape of her neck as she shuddered with fear. “Have ye seen this earring before?”

“I – I am not certain.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why does it matter? Don’t!” she gasped when he suddenly reached for her face, but instead of striking her he used his thumb to catch a tear trembling on the edge of her lash.

“Don’t cry,” he said gruffly as his gaze inexplicably softened. “I not going to hurt ye.”

“Why – why would I believe a thief?”

“Because I’m no’ a thief.” And just like that his cocky grin was back. “I’m a connoisseur of fine things.” He released his grip on her chin and gave a rueful shake of his head. “I always did have a soft spot for the pretty ones and you’re prettier than most. What’s your name, love?”

“F-Felicity Atwood,” she whispered. After the divorce she had decided to return to her maiden name, wanting no link to exist between herself and Ezra aside from their children. Children he no longer claimed as his own even though little Anne, with her dark hair and big hazel eyes, was his spitting image.

“Is there a Mr. Atwood I should be concerned about?” The wicked gleam in his eyes caused Felicity’s breath to catch yet again, although this time it was for an entirely different reason. When he looked at her like that she felt warm all over, as if she’d suddenly stepped into a pool of sunlight. Which did not make any sense give her present set of circumstances. She should have felt terrified, not tingly! And part of her was still very much afraid, but there was another part that was intrigued by the thief with the golden eyes and the devilish grin and the soft spot in his heart for a woman’s tears. 

“No,” she murmured, forcing herself to look away from his intoxicating gaze. Surely she had enough problems without adding a criminal to the mix. No matter how handsome and charismatic he may have been. “I am not married.”

At least not any longer.

“Then it is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” As if they were meeting in a fancy ballroom he bent at the waist in an exaggerated bow complete with an arm flourish. “I’m Felix. Felix Spencer. Now I have to ask you again, love – have you seen this before?” Going back to the dresser he picked up the sapphire earring and held it up.

“Yes,” she admitted after a pause. “Yes I have.”

Scarlett had worn the earring when she’d married Rodger. It was the first – and the only – time Felicity had ever seen it aside from today.

“Then ye are certain this earring belongs to Lady Sherwood?” Tossing the earring high in the air he caught it with an easy flick of his wrist.

“Yes, of course.” She gave him a pointed look. “That is her jewelry box you are rifling through.”

“So it is,” he said with a sly grin. “When was the last time ye saw her wear it?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question love.” He rolled the earring across his knuckles. “When did ye last see Lady Sherwood with this fancy bit of blue dangling from her ear?”

Felicity folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I am not answering your question until you answer mine. What is so special about that particular earring? Why do you want to know when Scarlett wore it?” Her eyes narrowed. “This would not have anything to do with Captain Steel, would it?”

Though she hadn’t done it on purpose, Felicity had overhead enough bits and pieces of Scarlett and Owen’s conversation in the parlor to know that Rodger’s death was being investigated as a murder… and Owen considered Scarlett to be a suspect.

“Are you a Runner as well?” she pressed. “What do you want with Scarlett? She hasn’t done anything, you know.”

“It’s not what I want.” Felix slipped the earring into his pocket. “It’s what he wants.”

“You mean Captain Steel? That is who you are referring to, is it not?”

“I am sure I don’t have any idea what ye are talking about love.” They both froze when the sound of voices rose up from the foyer. “Time to leave.”

Finally, thought Felicity as she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. But when Felix went to the window and threw it open her relief quickly turned to alarm. “You cannot go out that way!” she gasped, jumping up out of her chair. “We are on the second floor! You’ll kill yourself.”

Felix’s teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he looked back at her over his shoulder. “Worried about me, love?”

“No. Yes. No.” Flustered, she wrung her hands together. “There is – there is a beautiful patch of azaleas outside that window and I don’t want you to ruin them.”

“Best give me a kiss for good luck then.”

“What?” Her cheeks paled. “No! That isn’t–”

But before she could finish her protest Felix had yanked her against his body and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that made her see stars.

It only lasted a few seconds. Three at the most. Yet when it was finished Felicity felt as if she’d been kissed for hours. Stumbling back a step she pressed a finger to her lips and watched dazedly as Felix climbed up onto the windowsill, perching on the narrow ledge with the balance of a cat.

“Until next time, love.”

“Wait!” she cried.

But with a wink and an arrogant tilt of his chin he disappeared.

Her heart in her throat Felicity ran across the room, terrified of what she would see when she looked down. Summoning her courage – and bracing herself for the worse – she peered out the window.

The azaleas were untouched… and Felix was gone.