Unfortunately, when Louise went in search of Bridget the following morning, she found the poor maid huddled beneath her bed sheets and trembling with fever. “Is it already time to leave?” Bridget asked, punctuating her question with a wet cough.

She looked worse now than she had the previous evening. After saying good night to Lord Alistair, Louise had left her room and gone to check on the maid. Her face had been flushed but she’d assured Louise that a good night’s rest was all she required, but she’d clearly been mistaken about that.

“We’re supposed to depart in half an hour,” Louise said, handing Bridget a handkerchief.

Blowing her nose, Bridget nodded. “I’ll be right down.”

Louise frowned. She really shouldn’t suggest this, but demanding a woman with influenza endure a week-long carriage ride when she’d be far better off in bed prompted her to say, “I think you ought to remain here.” She also had no desire to catch the affliction and pass it on to the Channings.

“Oh no, Miss. I can’t do that.” Bridget tried to sit but promptly collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. “You’ll have no chaperone. It wouldn’t be proper.”

Louise was keenly aware of the fact. “I am well aware, but you are not in any condition to travel and we cannot delay our journey. Lady Channing expects our arrival.” She hesitated, perturbed by the only logical option yet quite intent on being practical. “And Lord Alistair is a gentleman.”

“Yes, but for you to be alone with him in the carriage is inadvisable.”

“I’ll be fine,” Louise said, hoping to dispel not only the maid’s concerns but her own as well. “You obviously can’t travel in this condition, and we cannot wait for you to recover. All things considered, it will be best for you to remain here until you are fully recuperated.” She had no idea how Lord Alistair would respond to her making such a decision, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to suggest.

As it turned out, he fully agreed. So they left the inn after he ensured enough funds were left to support Bridget’s continued stay and her subsequent return to London.

Two hours passed. Although they spoke amicably of their various interests, Louise regretted the comment she’d made the previous evening. In an effort to respect her wishes, Lord Alistair had refrained from asking personal questions and had shared nothing special about himself, either. And while she knew she ought to appreciate this, she now felt as though a ravine had been wedged between them. It strained the atmosphere and turned it into a stilted awkwardness that grated on her nerves.

“I think I made a mistake,” she finally said, when the fourth hour rolled around, and they’d exhausted their opinions on fashion, their thoughts on art, and their views on the British landscape and agricultural industry.

He frowned. “How so?”

She drew a deep breath. “I’ve ruined what promised to be an enjoyable journey and turned it into something from which I’m sure you now wish to escape.”

A gruff sound made her wonder if he agreed, but then he said, “Nothing could be further from the truth. The fact is, I like you. More than I imagined I would. And if you will set your preconceived ideas aside for a minute, I would like to say that I never turn my back on my friends. No matter what.”

“I wasn’t implying you would.” She was suddenly horrified by the possibility that she might have insulted him.

“Yes, you did. I know I didn’t comment at the time, but I intend to do so now since you’ve opened the topic.” Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees while peering into her face. His eyes held hers so confidently, she was prevented from looking away. Instead, a tiny thrill of something unknown ignited inside her, the intensity of it tightening her belly and prompting her heart to beat faster. “You may be taking on the role of governess, but you will be doing so in an unconventional household. Mark my word when I say you will become fast friends with the countess, and I myself would never in a million years be able to ignore you.”

Swallowing this assurance, Louise dug her fingers into the bench on which she sat. For reasons she could not begin to imagine, he’d made her skin prick with awareness, her insides quiver with a strange sort of anticipation, and her mouth go completely dry. And all he’d implied was that he’d be her friend. But the way in which he’d said it while subjecting her to a most intense stare left her feeling a bit out of breath.

“It is kind of you to say so, but—”

“Kindness has little to do with it, Miss Potter.” He must have perceived the puzzlement she felt since he chose to clarify. “I am a man and you are an extremely attractive woman. Ignoring you would be out of the question.”

Her heart made a funny leap and heat surged inside her. She’d known he found her pretty – beautiful even – for he’d told her so plainly enough. What she hadn’t considered was a possible attraction – the sort that wasn’t based on looks alone but on need and desire. She felt it now as he held her gaze. It hummed through her body, tickling her senses, heightening her awareness, and forcing a longing upon her she’d never felt before.

“I…”

Words failed her as the reality of her situation came barreling toward her. She was alone in a carriage with a handsome and virile man who’d all but expressed his desire for her while making her acutely aware of her own. She should be afraid – very, very afraid – and yet she found that she wasn’t. Quite the opposite, really.

Which was why his next comment felt like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. “You needn’t worry however. I will remain on my best behavior. Nothing will happen between us. You’re perfectly safe.”

As relieved as she ought to have been to hear it, disappointment brought her swiftly back to reality – the reality in which a man like him was not supposed to have designs on a woman like her. One in which he could have, if she’d belonged to the middle or lower classes. But now that he knew she didn’t, he’d be sure to keep himself in check and avoid succumbing to any form of temptation.

“Thank you,” she muttered. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to hear you say that.”

He tilted his head, studied her a moment, and then, “I believe I may have upset you.”

“Upset me? Not at all, my lord. You merely caught me by surprise, that is all.”

“Are you certain?”

“Quite.”

This comment resulted in a long moment of silence. Eventually, he reached inside his satchel and retrieved the newspaper he’d purchased at the inn before their departure. An hour passed while the carriage rolled onward. Louise occasionally glanced across at Lord Alistair, whose expression appeared to be set in stone as he flipped from page to page and studied the text. Bored with watching the scenery, she considered reading the book she’d brought with her.

Instead, she found herself saying, “The news must be serious, judging from your expression.”

He turned his attention toward her, straightened himself, and lowered the paper. “Important, is more like it,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

“Would you care to discuss it?” she asked. Perhaps if they could focus on whatever it was he’d been reading, she’d be able to forget the feelings he’d stirred up inside her or how attractive she actually found him. Such things could only lead to ruin and a fate far worse than the loneliness awaiting her at Whitehaven.

He blinked. The edge of his mouth twitched, and then his eyes narrowed on her with intent. “Certainly. But only if you are willing to tell me why you’ve chosen to seek employment.”

Her breath caught. “You wish to blackmail me?”

“Not at all. But my interest in this newspaper is no less personal than your desire to become a governess, so what I propose is an exchange.”

It sounded fair and reasonable. “Very well,” she said, denying the fear she had of letting him in, of sharing her innermost thoughts, and of being vulnerable. “Shall I go first or will you?”

* * *

Seeing anxiety mark her features, Alistair felt compelled to earn her trust and put her at ease. “Allow me,” he said. He was actually glad she’d asked him to open up, for it would allow him to focus on something besides the knowledge that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Up until an hour ago, he hadn’t been certain. Her discreet glances and interest in him could have been passed off as nothing more than normal curiosity. But then he’d watched her pupils dilate while her lips parted. He’d heard her tremulous inhalations of breath and seen the rosy hue sweeping across her face. And he’d instinctively known their desire was mutual.

Fearing he might act rashly in spite of his assurances to the contrary, he’d grabbed his newspaper and tried to block her out of his mind, which had been damnably hard to do since she was right there on the opposite bench. The print he’d tried to read had blurred before his eyes, and no matter how many times he attempted to focus, the only thing he could see was her, parting her lips, welcoming his advances, and giving him leave to do things no respectable gentlewoman would allow.

“My lord?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

Collecting himself, he nodded, even though he wasn’t the least bit all right. His pulse was racing, his blood was ablaze, and his lungs were struggling to take air in and push it back out. Discomfort did not begin to describe the predicament he was presently in, and crossing his legs did little to help. So he forced himself to speak in the hope that doing so would somehow calm his ardor. “I need to find a new source of income, so I’m looking for possible investment opportunities.”

“Are you having financial trouble?” Stunned by her frankness, he stared at her, to which she responded with a hasty apology. “I should not have asked that. How rude of me.”

“Well…” In for a penny, in for a pound. “I wouldn’t exactly call it trouble. It’s more of a snag really.”

Her brow creased with distinct curiosity. “How so?”

Sighing, he passed his hand over his face before saying, “My brother has been supplying me with a yearly stipend since I reached my majority twelve years ago. He is now threatening to stop doing so unless I marry Lady Channing’s sister-in-law, Lady Gwendolyn.”

Miss Potter’s eyes widened. “Really?” When he nodded, she knit her brow before saying, “Well, I suppose it’s not too unreasonable of him to make such a request.”

“I know it isn’t, especially since I’m more than his brother. I’m also his heir.”

“What?”

“Langley has no sons and probably never will. He’s pinning his hope for the title’s succession on me, though I could do without him selecting my bride. Truth is, I’ve been relying on his support for far too long.” When her frown deepened, he felt compelled to say, “I haven’t been completely idle. There are tenants at my country estate who bring in a yearly income, but it’s not much. My brother’s generosity has enabled me to maintain the standard of living to which I have always been accustomed, but perhaps… Perhaps I need to consider cutting some costs and living more frugally. In any case, a good investment would be helpful, hence my interest in the newspaper.”

He hadn’t meant to say quite that much. It revealed a part of himself he hadn’t been proud of lately. But rather than pass judgment, she said, “Perhaps I can help. If you hand me one of the sections, I’ll go through it. Maybe I’ll notice something you missed.”

Appreciating the offer, he thanked her.

“But first,” she said, averting her gaze, “I need to be as honest with you as you’ve been with me.” He steeled himself for what she would say, then felt his heart twist when she quietly murmured, “My sisters and I are barely scraping by. I sought to become a governess so I can help them financially, so we don’t lose our home, and so my youngest sister, Eve, might have the Season Josephine and I were denied.”

Knowing this was a touchy subject for her, he tried to think of a way to ask the questions her comment evoked. There wasn’t really a delicate way in which to do so, however, so he softened his tone and said, “I must have misunderstood you earlier. I assumed you had ties to the aristocracy, but—”

“My great-grandfather was the Earl of Priorsbridge,” she said. “My grandfather was his third son. He went into law and opened a firm that my father inherited upon his death. Unfortunately, Papa was not as skilled a barrister as Grandpapa, but at least he made an effort until Mama passed away. Her death changed everything. Papa started drinking; he neglected his clients, lost a lot of cases, and was finally forced to give up the business. We were forced to move to a more affordable part of town. Whatever money was set aside for my sisters and me was spent. So were the rest of Papa’s savings.” She struggled to draw breath, then averted her gaze and took a moment to compose herself. “All we have left now is the townhouse, and while we know we could sell it and move into something even cheaper, we’re hoping to do what we can to avoid such an outcome.”

Alistair stared at her in amazement. It had occurred to him that she might tell him her family had fallen on hard times, and she had no choice but to find work, but he hadn’t expected her situation to be quite so dire. It explained her reluctance to speak of it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I cannot begin to imagine how difficult life must have been for you in recent years. All things considered, I’m surprised you’ve done as well as you have. It could have been worse.”

“I know.” She forced a smile. “Our mother’s insistence to educate us has been a blessing. Josephine managed to find work as an accountant, an unusual position for a woman, but one which thankfully brings in a decent wage.”

“But it isn’t enough.”

She shook her head. “Not if we’re to keep the townhouse and give Eve a proper Season. The expense will be enormous, but it will be her best chance of finding a husband and securing her future.”

He decided not to mention that doing so without the proper connections would be a challenge. A thought struck him. He might be able to help in some small way. But did he really want to involve himself in someone else’s troubles when he had plenty of his own? Looking into her watery eyes, he knew the answer immediately. “If you like, I’ll put in a word with Lady Channing. I’m sure she’d be happy to assist with Eve at one of the dances and introduce her to some of her friends. I’ll also dance with her myself, if you like. My attention toward her may encourage others to take notice.”

The smile that appeared upon her face was priceless. “You would do all of that?”

When he nodded, she flung herself forward and wound her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. The gesture was so shocking, so startling, it made him immobile. And before he could gather his wits, she’d withdrawn to her seat. “I’m so sorry. I can scarcely think what came over me. I’m so extraordinarily happy I could sing!”

Touched by her joyous response, he grinned right back at her. He did not think of what it had felt like to have her pressed up against him, if only for a moment. To do so right now would tarnish the mood. So he made a deliberate effort to push his desire for her aside and to focus on her moment of happiness and the pleasure it brought him, knowing he was the cause of it.

* * *

For the next three days, Louise took pleasure in Lord Alistair’s company. The weather grew increasingly cold the further north they travelled, and he began making sure she had hot bricks to warm her feet every morning when they set out. She told him about her childhood, and he told her about his. Conversation flowed freely between them, and she began to wonder if she might have made a mistake by opening up to him. Because the more they talked and got to know each other, the more she liked the man he was proving to be. Which meant she would miss him once this ride was over, and they would be separated by duty. So she tried not to think about that. There would be plenty of time to do so later in the loneliness that would shape the rest of her life.

But in the meantime…

“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been born into the aristocracy?” she asked on Saturday morning after leaving the latest posting inn.

Glancing at the ceiling, he sat for a moment in silence before saying, “All the time.” Lowering his gaze, he smiled across at where she sat. “There are days when I wish my life was simpler.”

“Some might argue that there is nothing simple about having to work for a living – of having to worry about putting food on the table.”

“You’re right. Truth is, I can’t really imagine what it might be like to have to struggle in order to get by. But that doesn’t stop me from occasionally wondering if the harvest isn’t richer in another field, if there isn’t something to be said for being able to go where you please, live as you wish, without the pressure of continuing the lineage hanging over your head.”

“At least you are a man. You’ve been granted several years more than any woman in which to make the right match and settle down. And considering your position, it cannot possibly have come as a surprise to you that doing so would eventually be required.”

He pushed out a breath. “You’re right of course. The trouble is, I’ve been avoiding it.”

“And now, with your brother’s demands, you feel as though you’ve lost any possible say in the matter.”

Nodding, he crossed his arms and held her gaze. “How is it that you can so easily understand me when the people I’ve known my whole life fail to do so?”

Smiling, she asked, “Did you confide in them as you have done in me?”

He shook his head. “No. Mama and Langley are not the sort of people with whom one has an open conversation.”

“Perhaps that’s the problem. In order to know someone well, one has to share one’s thoughts and aspirations, one’s hopes and one’s fears.”

“And what are your hopes and fears, Miss Potter?”

The question was casually posed, yet Louise couldn’t help but sense its importance. To answer would tangle their lives up even more than they already were. It would deepen their bond and make parting all the more difficult in the end. So she considered changing the subject, then said, “Right now, I hope to make a good impression on Lady Channing and to be a successful governess so I can help my sisters. My fear is I’ll fail.”

“Why would you do that?”

She shrugged. “I have no experience with being a governess, so it is likely that Lady Channing will find me wanting, or that I won’t know how to enforce the discipline her children require, or that the other servants won’t like me. Any number of things can go wrong.”

“I don’t think worrying about it will help.”

“You’re right.” She drew a deep breath and expelled it. “But what of you, my lord? What are your hopes and fears?”

His expression tightened, and his eyes grew slightly darker. “My hope is to find a way to avoid doing as my brother demands. My fear is I will be married by Christmas to a woman with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Perhaps all you need is to get to know her better.” When he gave her a dubious look she said, “Look at the two of us. We were strangers five days ago and now here we are enjoying each other’s company remarkably well.”

“Perhaps I should marry you then?”

She grinned in response to his teasing tone, even as she felt herself tighten up inside. “You know as well as I that doing so would be impossible.”

“Because I’m the heir to a dukedom and you’re a governess?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re still an earl’s great-granddaughter.”

“As if anyone is going to care about that.”

When he failed to answer, she knew she’d made her point. The blue blood that had run in her grandfather’s veins had been thoroughly diluted during the recent generations. He and her father had both married into the middle class, and all of this was without considering her father’s downward spiral. He’d failed to provide for his daughters, failed to continue his father’s legacy, and had finally drunk himself to death. The blemish he’d left on his family was an undeniable one. And although Louise had never resented him for it before, she did so now.

Because meeting Lord Alistair had changed things. It had made her wonder what it might be like to be the suitable match for a man like him. And as time wore on inside the carriage, a new fear began to grip her – one apart from her duty toward her sisters and the possibility of failure – namely that she might have started liking him far too much for her own good.

She was certainly feeling things for him – things no young woman had any business feeling for a man so high above her station. And yet, with every glance he sent her way, her pulse quickened, and with every word he spoke, she sensed a yearning. It was built on fluff and fantasy of course, but that didn’t make it feel any less real.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, scattering her thoughts, “but that doesn’t make me want you any less.”

Stunned by his comment, she gaped at him. Surely she must have misheard. But the way in which he was watching her now suggested she hadn’t, because there was something so utterly wicked about his expression, it made her pulse leap and her skin heat with awareness. “What?” She tried to focus.

“I suppose I shall have to restrain myself, however, since marrying you would be so incredibly impossible.”

Staring at him, she did her best to make sense of what he was saying. “Surely you jest?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

Befuddled by this strange turn in their conversation and feeling as though she might slide to the floor in a sinful mess of unfulfilled need, she averted her gaze and looked out the window. Still, she could feel his presence so keenly her heart rate failed to slow. Instead, his voice echoed inside her head. That doesn’t make me want you any less. I shall have to restrain myself.

Good lord!

No one had ever told her something like that before, yet the words had come from the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on – a man who now made her wonder about certain things, like what might happen between them if he lost control. Would he kiss her with abandon? She dared not look at him as she imagined what that might be like. Delicious, no doubt, if her racing heart was any indication.

“It looks as though it’s starting to snow,” he remarked a while later, startling her from the inappropriate ponderings she was having.

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t said anything…

She sighed. Who was she trying to fool? Her attraction to him had been there from the moment they’d met, but his admission made it so much more acute. “Yes,” she said as she watched the white flakes drift toward the ground. “And the light is beginning to dim.” Because stating the obvious was so much easier than having to think of an interesting subject to discuss when her mind and body still lingered on his lust-driven declaration.

A sharp turn of the carriage served as a welcome distraction. It jostled her sideways. A bump in the road made the entire conveyance lurch. And then a sharp crack filled the air and the whole thing tilted to the sound of whinnying horses.

“Hold on,” Lord Alistair warned. He leapt across to her seat and pushed her into the corner, protecting her with his body while the carriage dipped even further. It eventually righted itself and drew to a jarring halt.

“What happened?” she asked as he leaned back slightly. His hand was on her shoulder, his thighs pressed up against hers, and if she did not speak of practicalities, she would likely do something reckless like close the distance between them and kiss him.

“I think we may have lost a wheel.” The comment seemed to sober him for he suddenly removed himself completely from her person, opened the door, and climbed out, leaving her alone in a crooked carriage to wonder about how her life had gone so awry.

Hearing voices, she made her own way outside into the chilly late afternoon. Beneath her feet, the gathering snow provided a soft tread while she walked toward the spot where Lord Alistair stood in conversation with the coachman.

“The inn’s about a mile up ahead,” the coachman was saying. “With the wheel broken, a quick repair is out of the question. One of us is going to have to go and get help.”

Lord Alistair nodded. “Let’s move the carriage to the side of the road if we can. I’ll take Miss Potter to the inn on horseback so she can get out of the cold.” He went to assist the coachman, while Louise watched in amazement.

Lord Alistair was a capable man, his strength evident in his ability to push the carriage forward while the coachman directed the horses. And rather than pant or groan from the exertion, he quickly went to help unhitch one of the horses, collect her bag, and come to help her up. “All you have to do is swing your leg over the side,” he said when he placed his hands on her waist.

Before she could think too much about what it felt like to have him touch her like that, she was in the air. Her right leg went over the horse’s back as he’d advised, so she sat astride in a way most people would frown at.

As if reading her mind, Lord Alistairmet her eyes through the falling snow. “I apologize for not having a sidesaddle.” Before she could answer, he glanced down at her exposed legs and grinned. “Then again, perhaps I’m not sorry at all.”

Handing her the blanket from the carriage so she could wrap it around her shoulders, he pulled the horse into a walk and started toward their destination. “Will you not ride with me?” she asked after a while. She’d warred with her conscience about suggesting he do so. But having him closer would help keep her warm, even if it wasn’t the wisest course of action. Especially not after the comment he’d made about her legs. Still, seeing him trudge through the snow while she sat like a queen filled her with guilt.

He muttered something imperceptible before saying, “I don’t think I should.”

“Because you claim to want me or—”

“Precisely.”

He said nothing further, and neither did she. But that didn’t make her any less aware of the tension that seemed to have formed between them. It was palpable, like a ball of dry hay waiting for a spark to set it on fire.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the inn, Alistair’s clothes were permeated by frost. He could feel it all the way to his bones, his feet so cold they’d practically gone numb. Helping Miss Potter down from the horse, he felt her shudder and knew she wasn’t faring much better. A hot bath would help, but before such a wonderfully soothing experience could be his, he would have to return to the carriage with a couple of men and a spare wheel.

But as they entered the inn and he became aware of how overcrowded it was and that several patrons were deep in their cups, he was forced to reconsider. Leaving Miss Potter alone here would not be the right thing to do.

So he led her over to the counter and addressed the elderly man who stood there. “Are you the innkeeper?” he asked.

“Aye,” the man responded.

Explaining his situation, Alistair asked if the man could spare a couple of grooms and if he had an extra wheel available too, offering decent compensation for both.

“I’ve two strong lads out back. I’ll ask them to go help your coachman bring the carriage here.”

“We’ll also need two bedrooms and a spot in the loft for my coachman to rest.”

The innkeeper raised both eyebrows. “As you can see, we’re practically filled to capacity.”

“Practically?”

Nodding, the innkeeper glanced at Miss Potter. “I’ve one room left. You might consider sharing.”

Appalled the man would suggest such a thing, Alistair shook his head. “That’s out of the question.” Miss Potter was an innocent young woman, who needed to be protected from the likes of him. “What about the hayloft?”

“There’s no more space up there. I’m afraid your coachman will have to sleep in the carriage. We can provide some blankets for him so he can be comfortable.”

Which still left Alistair without a bed unless he agreed to do as the innkeeper had initially suggested. Glancing at Miss Potter, he chastised himself for even considering such an inappropriate course. Especially when she was standing there, hugging herself in an effort to get warm. “Show us up, please.” He would decide what to do with himself later, once she’d been made comfortable.

The room turned out to be of the smaller variety, with the bed propped up against the wall and a chair in one corner. Setting Miss Potter’s bag on the floor, Alistair turned to the innkeeper. “I don’t suppose there’s room enough for a tub to be brought in?”

“It’s been done before,” the innkeeper said. “I’ll have it brought up as soon as possible.”

“And if we could please have some food as well, that would be splendid.”

The innkeeper nodded. “The beef stew is good. Will you want to eat it downstairs or up here?”

Thinking of the drunken men in the taproom, Alistair told the innkeeper to bring it up. He waited until he was gone before turning toward Miss Potter. “I apologize for the way this evening is going.”

“It’s not your fault.” She considered the room, observing its small size before meeting his gaze once more. “I’m happy to share this room with you, if you like.”

The tension that had been gripping him with increasing force since the moment he’d met her began to take its toll. “Thank you,” he said, clenching his jaw. “But it would not be proper.”

“I am well aware of that, Lord Alistair. Especially after what you have told me.”

He dipped his head and moved toward the door. “Then I shall leave you to rest. The bath will be up soon, along with the food. I hope—”

“But with no room in the hayloft and your coachman sleeping in the carriage, what will you do?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. But when it was clear his comment did not agree with her, he hastened to say, “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

“Really?”

He made a curt nod. “Yes.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “I wasn’t offering you the bed, you know. But the chair over there does not look too uncomfortable, and I dare say it will be better than one of the wooden ones in the taproom. Not to mention the noise down there is unlikely to give you much peace.”

“As true as that may be and as generous as you are being, I still don’t think it is wise for me to remain here.”

“Why? Because you plan to pounce on me when I least expect it?”

That suggestion certainly stirred his blood. “Of course not,” he managed to say while visions of ravishing her swamped his brain.

“Then let’s be practical about this, shall we? You are definitely as cold, tired, and hungry as I. The fact you’re a man does not diminish your need for warmth, rest, or sustenance.”

“I suppose that’s true, though many would disagree.”

“Well, they’re not here right now. It’s only you and I, and I say you ought to have a comfortable spot for the night. What’s your opinion on the matter, practically speaking?”

“Well…”

A knock at the door served as a welcome distraction. Opening it, he found a servant holding a tray with food. Three more men stood behind him, two of them holding a brass tub, while the third carried a pail of water. Alistair waved them inside, maneuvering about so they could set everything down in the decreasing space.

“That does look rather tempting,” Miss Potter said, as soon as the servants had finished filling the tub. It had taken several trips up and down the stairs, but they’d eventually gotten it done. Turning toward her, Alistair found her staring down at the tub. Waves of steam rose from the hot water. Hands on hips, she glanced at where he stood. “Will you go first or shall I?”

The question, posed with a genuine look of concern in her eyes, almost knocked him off his feet. Clenching his fists, he dug his nails against the palms of his hands and focused on that discomfort, hoping it might alleviate another. “You will not be bathing in my presence, and I shall not be bathing in yours,” he clipped.

“Of course not!” She stared at him. “Heavens, I wasn’t suggesting something that scandalous. It goes without saying that we would step outside to allow the other the privacy they require.”

His limbs felt as though they were going to break beneath the strain of his carefully held control. “Then by all means, proceed. I shall return in fifteen minutes.” And with that, he stepped outside the room, shutting the door behind him while wondering if it was possible to survive seven days of constant arousal, or if it was destined to kill him. Because it sure as hell felt as though it would.

* * *

Sinking into the soothing water, Louise took a moment to think of her situation. If she encouraged him, she’d no doubt in her mind that Lord Alistair’s resolve would waver, and the two of them would enjoy a passionate night together. But as tempting as that was and as attractive as she found him, she could not allow such a thing to happen. Doing so would put everything at risk, because nobody on God’s green earth would want to employ a fallen woman as their governess. And while she was fairly confident Lord Alistair would refrain from mentioning any kisses they happened to share to his niece, Louise could not take the chance of her finding out. Her sisters relied on her too heavily for that.

So she picked up the soap and proceeded to wash. Her friendship with Lord Alistair would be short lived, but it would provide her with wonderful memories to look back on. Not because of the desire he felt for her, but because of how well they’d gotten to know each other, the confidences they’d shared, and the lengthy discussions they’d had.

Every word they’d spoken had strengthened the bond between them in a way she’d initially feared. She’d been wrong to do so, however, because getting to know Lord Alistair properly wasn’t something she could regret. In another place and another life, they would likely have made the perfect match. But they were here, in England, their actions dictated by social protocol. Soon they would arrive at Whitehaven where he would meet the woman whom he was supposed to marry. She was going to be a governess, and their lives, so intertwined in this moment, would move apart once more.

With this in mind, she finished her bath and stepped out of the tub, drying herself with the towel. She would count her blessings and the chance she’d had to know a remarkable man – a man who wasn’t too proud to help his servants, a man who put aside his own wants and needs in favor of doing what was right, a man determined to do his duty whether that meant adhering to his brother’s demands or finding a way to provide for himself without relying on others.

Managing to throw her dress over her head two seconds before he returned to knock on the door, Louise hastily tied the ribbons in place while she called for him to enter. He strode in with a grim expression hardening his features. The door closed behind him, and he stopped to take her in. She held her breath, unsure of what he might be thinking, then watched as his gaze slid sideways toward the bed where her undergarments were strewn about. Being in a hurry to finish up, she hadn’t put them back on again, though she wished she’d at least tidied them away.

When he considered her next, it was with flames dancing in his eyes. His throat worked and he dropped his gaze to allow for a slow and studious perusal of her entire body. Her belly tightened against a surge of heat, her skin tingling in anticipation of what he might do. Pointing toward the bed, he closed his eyes on a tortured breath. “Please put those things away.”

His request propelled her into action. Hastening forward she snatched up her stays, her stockings, and her chemise and stuffed them into her bag. She then hurried toward the door, grabbing her boots while she went, which forced her to move right past him, her arm brushing his as she did so.

The sharp inhale of breath he took sent shivers racing up her spine, and then she felt his hand upon her wrist, clutching her tight and halting her progress. “Will you save me from my insanity, Miss Potter?”

Swallowing in the face of his resistance, she lifted her chin toward his anguished expression. “I cannot.”

His jaw seemed to harden against her words, but he bowed his head in submission. “Of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking to ask.” And without speaking another word, he turned on his heel, flung open the door, and stormed out.

* * *

Spending the night on a wooden bench in the taproom wasn’t Alistair’s idea of fun, but it had been necessary. After exiting Miss Potter’s room so she could bathe, he’d gone for a brisk walk in the snow and had imagined himself capable of joining her for supper. Until he’d seen her standing there with her hair unpinned, the tips dripping wet, and her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress.

He’d averted his gaze only to find himself staring at her undergarments lying on the bed, which meant she’d been utterly naked beneath the grey wool she’d been wearing. This thought had, in the space of one second, led to others. He’d imagined pulling the gown up over her head and taking a thorough look at her, of flinging her onto the bed and delving between her thighs in ways that topped his most erotic fantasies.

But when he’d asked for permission to do exactly that, she’d denied him. And rightfully so. In fact, he was glad of it, because what sort of woman would she be if she had allowed him to have his way with her like that? Christ, he was being a selfish scoundrel. She was an innocent woman whom his niece had asked him to escort to her home. The only problem was he’d been expecting a middle-aged spinster, not a goddess.

Groaning in response to the constant discomfort that plagued him, Alistair went to speak with his coachman. He would ensure the carriage was ready for departure before fetching Miss Potter. The anticipation of seeing her again made his muscles flex. Never in his life had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted her.

He’d mentioned marriage on impulse – as a lark, really – not as something he thought she might agree to. Her shocked response followed by her insistence that such a thing would not be possible had not banished the idea from his head, however. Instead, it had cemented itself in a way that demanded his attention. And if he did indeed marry her, then he could have her as often as he pleased and…There was more to it than that. He genuinely enjoyed conversing with her.

An idea struck him. His brother insisted he’d cut him off unless he married the woman who waited for him at Whitehaven. But would Langley really follow through on such a threat if Alistair married Miss Potter instead? And would he care? Was lust enough to make him take such a risk? He could still try to make some investments. He could even sell his country estate if doing so would help him provide for a wife.

Unsure of how far he was willing to go in order to sate his needs, Alistair did what had to be done in order to get ready for the rest of the journey. When Miss Potter came to find him half an hour later, he greeted her with politeness, then handed her up into the carriage and closed the door. She looked out of the window at him and frowned. “Will you not be riding in here with me?”

“Not today,” he said, then went to join his coachman on the driver’s block before she tried to convince him to keep her company instead.

* * *

Alone in the carriage, Louise tried to pass the time with her book. When doing so lost her interest, she gave her attention to the snow-covered landscape. Once this lost its appeal as well, she tried to distract herself with a game of solitaire. By the time luncheon finally arrived, she had to admit this day was turning out to be the longest of her life. It was only made worse by the realization that Lord Alistair wouldn’t be joining her for a meal. Instead, he left her to eat the ham and cheese she’d been served at the inn where they’d stopped, while he remained at the bar, conversing with other travelers.

Vexed, she did her best to remind herself that she was the one who’d denied him, and that if his passions ran as high as he’d suggested, she ought to be grateful to him for adding distance between them. But it was to no avail. The truth was she missed him, and as unwise as spending time in his company might be, she could not ignore the yearning of her heart.

So once she was finished eating, she exited the inn and waited for him to join her outside. “My lord,” she said, drawing his attention, “I’ve purchased the local gazette. Perhaps you would care to read it with me?”

Stopping next to the carriage door, he stared at her. “To do so wouldn’t be wise.” He then extended his hand, offering to help her up.

She remained where she was. “My name is Louise, by the way. In case you were wondering.” And on that note, she climbed up into the carriage without accepting his help.

* * *

Louise.

It was a beautiful name – one that suited her much better than Miss Potter. Still, it was personal and intimate, and after the incident between them the previous evening, it made him wonder about her motive in sharing it with him. One thing was certain, she’d been quite enraged when she’d done so, and while such high emotion ought to have dampened his lust for her, it seemed to have done the opposite. Which was why he found himself telling his coachman that he would ride inside the carriage for the rest of the day, upon which he flung the door open and climbed in after the maddening woman who drove him to want things he’d no business wanting.

Seated in the far corner, she stared at him as he slammed the door and took his seat. He then pinned her with the hardest glare he could manage and asked, “What are you trying to do?”

Her lips parted and she quietly shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. All of this…” she waved her hand between them, “is terribly confusing.”

“Well, it isn’t for me. In fact, my carnal appetite for you is so acute I can scarcely sleep at night or think straight during the day.” He watched her draw in a shuddering breath which only made matters worse. Aggravated, he felt a perverse need to destabilize her, to make her world feel as chaotic as his did right now. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to be in a state of unfulfilled arousal for several days in a row?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I know it was wrong of me to proposition you last night, I know I must get you to Whitehaven without tossing up your skirts and having you right here in this carriage, but God help me, I’m only a man, so if you keep using your feminine wiles on me – as innocent as you think it may be – I won’t be able to answer for the consequences. Do you understand?”

“I…” She gave a quick nod. “Yes. I understand. I didn’t realize that was what I was doing. I’ve no experience with using feminine wiles, you see.”

Blowing out a tortured breath, he leaned his head back against the squabs as the carriage rolled into motion, jostling him. “Well, you’re quite adept at it, I must say.”

She was quiet for a second, then asked, “In what way?”

Groaning, he rolled his head to the side so he could look across at her. “You’re doing it right now by asking that question.”

“Oh.” Another pause, a twitch of her nose, and a furrowing of her brow, and then, “Ohhhhh…”

The penny had finally dropped.