“Please Mr. Colton—”
He touched a hand to her mouth to silence her. But when he felt the softness of her lips against his fingertips, he kept them there while staring down into her startled eyes. Very slowly he traced his thumb around the outline of her lower lip until he felt it tremble. Tremble? Could it be that she was as moved by this as he?
“I’m going to have to kiss you again, Mistress Warner.”
“You mustn’t...I forbid...”
Before she could pull away he closed his hands over her upper arms, holding her fast. Then he gathered her close, all the while keeping his eyes steady on hers.
His mouth found hers, touching ever so lightly. Through sheer force of will he managed to keep the kiss gentle as he sipped, tasted, brushed. He absorbed the quick flash of heat, felt the way his blood began to sing. But he was determined to keep it light. He might have succeeded, if he hadn’t heard her little sigh. Just a quick intake of breath, but it had all his good intentions crumbling like a house of cards.
“Oh, you taste so good. Like fine wine.” With a groan of desperation he hauled her firmly against him and covered her mouth in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it had the blood throbbing in his temples.
“Mr. Colton, you must stop this.” She pulled away, but was hauled back, only to be kissed again, until he stole her very breath from her lungs.
His lips moved over her face, grazing the hair at her temple, then brushing her eyelids, her cheek. Hers was the softest skin he’d ever known. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. If he could, he would devour her.
His hands at her shoulders tightened, drawing her even closer, until he could feel her body imprinting itself on his. All that softness and those lovely curves taunted him until the thought of taking her, lying with her, had desire flooding through him.
Molly’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never known such heat. A heat that threatened to melt her bones and sear her flesh. And still he continued kissing her until all fear was gone. In its place was need. A need so wild, so desperate, she thought she might go mad from it.
The fear she’d felt only minutes ago was now becoming excitement. Her arms slowly lifted to curve around his neck. There was no thought of resistance now. Only pleasure. She gave herself up to it and heard his moan as he took the kiss deeper.
He could feel her, soft and pliant in his arms. Desire was swift, all-consuming, and for a moment he tempted himself with the thought of carrying her inside her cottage and ravishing her.
He backed her up, pinning her between the outer wall of her cottage and his body. She was instantly aware of his arousal. And her own. Her breath was coming hard and fast, burning a path of fire along her throat. Her skin was damp and flushed, her heartbeat drumming painfully at her temples.
William felt a flash of triumph as a little moan escaped her lips. It would seem the very cool widow had been hiding a fiery, passionate heart. The thought of taking her here and now had his own pulse racing.
Then just as quickly he banked the need as reality, like a dash of frigid water, washed over him.
What had he been thinking? This wasn’t some tavern wench, offering him a moment of pleasure. This was his neighbor, whose property he hoped to buy. By all accounts a proper young widow who was probably shocked to the core by his bold behavior. What he had read as passion was no doubt anger or fear.
He lifted his head and saw her eyes snap open before they widened in surprise. Her lips were still moist and swollen from his kisses. Lips that even now caused his pulse to stutter. Her hair spilled around her face in a wild tangle of damp curls.
He caught a strand and allowed it to sift through his fingers while he studied her. “I said I wasn’t drunk. But that’s not entirely true.”
“What do you mean?”
He bent and brushed his mouth over hers. “One taste of your lips, Mistress Warner, and I’m hopelessly drunk.” He tugged on the lock of her hair. “What is your given name?”
“That’s...” She wondered at his ability to speak, to think. Her mind felt frozen. Her voice sounded strange and breathless in her own ears. “That’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.”
“Why?”
He gave her one of those dangerous, icy smiles. “After what we’ve just shared, I no longer think Mistress Warner and Mr. Colton are appropriate. My given name is William.”
“I prefer Mr. Colton.”
“As you wish. And your name?”
She swallowed. “Margaret. I’m called Molly.”
“Molly.” He framed her face with his hands. His smile grew. “Molly Warner. Your name suits you. Sweet. Your kisses are sweet. Sweeter than the finest wine.” He tempted himself a moment more, then resisted, lowering his hands to his sides and taking a step back. “I bid you good night, Molly Warner. I’m sure I’ll dream of you tonight. And this garden of delights.”
He whistled for the dog, then strode off into the darkness, leaving her standing where he’d left her. As motionless as a statue. For she feared if she but moved, she would surely shatter like fine crystal.
Chapter 5
Molly latched her gate behind her and stepped out into the lane that led to town. In her pocket were the coins she intended to use to buy the precious yarn for Camilla Cannon’s shawl.
Her movements were slower than usual, for she’d put in another long and sleepless night. All thanks to William Colton.
What was she to do about him? He seemed to bring out the worst in her. Temper, of course, though she was by nature a cheerful soul. But worse than her temper was this...unexpected passion. The mere thought of how she’d behaved had her cheeks flaming. One touch from that man’s lips and she became some sort of wanton. Why, even in her marriage bed she’d never felt such a hungry yearning. A desire for things proper ladies wouldn’t ever consider dreaming of, let alone doing.
He frightened her. As did these feelings he’d awakened in her. She hoped and prayed that she never had to see him again. For she would surely embarrass herself if she did.
As if the fates were mocking her, she heard the clattering of a horse’s hooves and the sound of a familiar deep voice behind her. She paused, only to see the object of her thoughts approaching.
“Good morrow, Molly. On your way to town, are you?”
“Aye.” She glanced up at him as he slowed his horse to a walk, then quickly looked away, aware that her face was flaming, when he slid from the saddle to lead his mount while matching his steps to hers.
Oh, how grand he looked, dressed all in black, leading Lord Kent’s magnificent stallion. He’d recently washed and his dark hair still bore the droplets of water, glistening in the morning sunlight.
“Are you off to work then?”
He nodded, and she thought how handsome he was when he wasn’t frowning. “Aye. With Lord Kent off to London, I’ll be working harder than ever.”
“Most men would consider slacking off when there’s no one around to answer to.”
“I’m not like most men.”
The vehemence with which he spoke brought a bubble of laughter. “So I’ve noticed.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard that you guard his lordship’s estates as though they were your own.”
“Really? And what else have you heard about me?”
She ducked her head, aware that she was blushing. “That men fear you. And those who don’t, respect you.”
“Which would you rather have, Molly? The fear of others, or their respect?”
“I should think all people desire respect.” She glanced over. “Isn’t that what you would choose?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. To that end I’ve begun teaching young Tyler to read and write and do sums, so that when he’s older he might have the respect of others.”
“Tyler told me that you invited him and his grandfather to live with you when you found them sleeping in a hay barn. Is that true?”
�
��In a way.” William frowned, remembering. “I’d banished them from Lord Kent’s estate.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my job. I’d been ordered to see that those tenant farmers who could no longer produce were put off the land.”
Her chin came up in anger. “Even though some of those farmers had been on the estate for generations?”
He shrugged. “That wasn’t my concern. I had a job. I did it. And when I banished the old man, I thought no more of it until a few days later. I was at the farmers’ market in the town square, when I felt a tug on my jacket and realized that someone was trying to pick my pocket. Imagine my surprise when it was a filthy urchin with the face of a cherub.”
‘‘Tyler? A pickpocket?’’
“Aye. I thought briefly about turning him over to the constable. But—” he stared off into space “—something about him touched my heart.”
Molly wondered where he went when that look came into his eyes. He seemed not so much angry as haunted.
He pulled himself back from his bleak thoughts. “So I took him home and fed him, and that’s when I learned that he and his grandfather were the very ones I’d sent packing. I persuaded the lad to take me to where his grandfather was hiding, though I had to give him my word as a gentleman that I wouldn’t bring the old man harm. And that’s when I decided to bring them home to live with me.”
She was amazed by what she’d heard. “You hardly knew them, yet you brought them into your home? How did you know they wouldn’t kill you in your bed and help themselves to all you had?”
His frown grew. “First of all, I had little of value. Certainly not enough to warrant taking my life. And then, of course, to know Duncan Biddle is to know that he is an honorable man. Besides, I felt responsible for their circumstances. Because of me, they’d lost everything that once mattered to them.”
Molly’s voice lowered with passion. “Losing everything doesn’t necessarily mean we lose our humanity. At least not if we were honorable and decent to begin with.”
He turned to face her. “That’s what I’ve begun to learn.”
She paused. “That was a most kind and generous thing you did for Duncan and young Tyler.”
He looked embarrassed by the unexpected compliment. “They’ve given me far more than I’ve given them. They filled a void in my life.” His voice lowered. “And perhaps gave me back my humanity, as well.”
“And what of your own family?”
The instant the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. The bleak look was back in his eyes. “They are dead to me. As I am to them.”
“Then I’m glad you have the old man and his grandson.”
William’s voice was gruff with emotion. “Duncan has become my tutor. It is he who taught me how to grow my own crops, cook my own food, even wash my own clothes.”
“How is it that you didn’t learn such things in your youth?”
He shrugged. “My tutoring consisted of languages and sums, art and music and science.”
“How fortunate for you. There are few who are given such a privileged education.”
“You think so? I would say my world has broadened considerably since leaving my father’s—” He looked up at the sound of a horse and cart coming at a fast clip, put a hand to her elbow and helped her to the side of the road. At the mere touch, they both felt the heat and struggled not to react.
As soon as the cart moved past, they stepped apart, aware that the tension was back.
They both seemed relieved that they’d reached the heart of town. But before they could go their separate ways, Molly saw Camilla Cannon stepping out of a shop directly in front of her.
The woman turned a flirtatious smile on William. Like most women of the town, she found the handsome, brooding man with the mysterious past too much of a challenge to ignore. ‘‘I’ve heard that Lord Kent has entrusted his vast estates to your care while taking himself off to London, Mr. Colton.”
William nodded. “I’m pleased that he places such trust in me.”
“And why not?” Her smile warmed. “I hope you won’t be too busy to come to tea when my husband’s cousin visits me from the country.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I’d be honored.”
Pleased, she turned to Molly. “Mistress Warner. How is work progressing on my gown and shawl?”
Molly flushed. “It goes well, Mistress Cannon.”
“Will you have it ready by Sunday as you agreed?”
Molly nodded. “Aye. Sunday. As agreed.”
The woman smiled. “Don’t you adore the peach color? I had to send all the way to London for the yarn.”
“Aye, it’s lovely, Mistress Cannon. The color will look perfect on you.”
The woman gave a haughty nod before bestowing another smile on William. Then she hurried away.
William turned to study Molly, seeing the way her hands were twisting nervously. “The yarn wasn’t yours?”
“Nay.”
He put a hand over hers. “Forgive me, Molly. I thought it was mere vanity that had you upset over Wolfs antics. I had no idea.”
She swallowed. “My sewing puts food on the table and keeps the roof over my head. Without it, I’d have no way to survive.”
She glanced at the row of shops along the main street. “I’d best go now and hope that someone can match the yarn from London.”
“Did you try salvaging the yarn Tyler retrieved for you?”
“Aye.” She nodded. “I was able to wash off most of the soil and grime. But many of the strands are torn or knotted. I’m afraid there won’t be enough to do a proper job of it.”
“I wish you luck, Molly.”
When she realized he was being sincere, her smile returned. “Thank you.”
As she hurried away it occurred to William that she hadn’t once called him by name. Progress with the widow Warner, it would seem, was going to be slow and painful. Not that it mattered, he told himself. After all, the only thing he cared about was earning her trust so he could acquire her property.
If there should be any other reason for his sudden interest, he refused to admit it. There were some feelings, much like old wounds, that were buried too deeply to be probed without causing a great deal of pain. He refused to ever again become ensnared in a woman’s trap.
Molly trudged along the road in the heat of the late afternoon, weary beyond belief. She’d spent many frustrating hours visiting every shop in Surrey, in the hope of matching the yarn. All to no avail. She would have to make do with what she had, and hope that Camilla Cannon wouldn’t be too angry.
The woman could ruin her, Molly thought. With a single word to the other women in town, she could be denied any further employment. If that should happen she would have to accept William Colton’s offer to sell her home and land, in order to survive. But where would she go? What could she do with the pittance this place would bring? A year from now, or two years at the most, she could find herself in a strange town, alone and penniless, and reduced to working in a tavern. Or worse. She shivered.
As she unlatched the gate and started up the lane she was startled to hear the sound of an axe biting into wood. Was someone chopping her precious trees?
She rounded the lane and stared in disbelief. Duncan was trimming her hedge, chopping away at the old dead wood. Tyler was busy dragging the branches beside her cottage wall, where she kept her meager supply of firewood.
“What’s this?” She stared around in amazement. “Duncan, what are you and the lad doing here?”
“Cleaning up your gardens, miss.”
“But why?”
“It was William Colton’s suggestion, miss. He said whenever Tyler and I had a bit of time, he wanted us to see to your needs.”
“He did, did he? We’ll see about this.”
All the anger and frustration of the day bubbled up, threatening to choke her as she lifted her skirts and picked her way across the field toward William Colton’s cottage. So, he had decided
he’d waited long enough. Now he thought he would simply take over her land with or without her permission. Well, he had a thing or two to learn about her. She may be just getting by, but that didn’t mean she intended to simply step aside and let him do as he pleased.
She paused on the stoop and gave a sharp rap on his door.
When he opened it and caught sight of her he gave her a long, steady look. “Well, Molly. What a surprise.”
“I had a bit of a surprise myself.” Her tone lowered with fury. “When I returned from town just now, I found Duncan and Tyler trimming my hedges.”
His words were clipped. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me they cut down something of value? It isn’t like the old man to be careless—’’
She held up a hand to stop him. “They haven’t damaged anything.” It galled her to add, “They’re doing a fine job. At least as much as I could see of it.”
“Then what—”
Her chin came up in a defiant gesture he had come to recognize. “And just how am I supposed to pay them for their work?”
“Is that what this visit is about? And here I’d hoped that you were simply paying me a neighborly call.” He stepped aside. “Won’t you come in, Molly? You look like you could use a cup of tea.”
“I’ve no interest in your tea. I’d like to know how I’m supposed to pay you for this sudden generosity.”
He merely gave one of his dark, knowing smiles. “Come in, Molly. We’ll talk over tea.”
She brushed past him and stared around in surprise as she settled herself at a highly polished wooden table. She’d assumed that three men living without benefit of a woman’s touch would have to tolerate a certain amount of dirt. But the cottage was as clean as hers, and in far better shape.
Despite the warmth of the cooking fire, the room was refreshingly cool after the heat of the day. And she was, she realized as she settled herself at the table, exceedingly tired.
“How was your day in town?” William placed a steaming cup in front of her, and poured one for himself as well.
“Fruitless. I checked every shelf in every shop in Surrey. There is no yarn like this.” She reached into her pocket and dropped the strand on the table.
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