My Lady's Trust. Julia Justiss

desire, his mind with the fervent need to probe her thoughts, know and explore and nurture her?

      By the time he drew rein before the squire’s entry hall, irritation at the unexpected setback drove him to be just a bit less cautious.

      And so, after a groom came to the chestnut’s head and Mrs. Martin turned to climb down from the carriage, he stayed her with a touch to the shoulder. Enough of impersonal, nonthreatening courtesy.

      Beau took her hand and slowly, deliberately, raised it. “I enjoyed this afternoon very much, Mrs. Martin.”

      He moved his mouth across her knuckles, the barest touch of lip and warm breath. Then, while her eyes flared open and her gaze jerked up, he turned her hand over and applied the glancing, shock-spitting caress of his lips down her slender fingers to her callused palm. He had to call once again on his famous self-control to stifle the near-overwhelming impulse to sink his teeth into the tempting plumpness beneath her thumb where the palm narrowed to the soft, rose-scented skin of her wrist.

      He released her then, pulses hammering, astounded that a simple brush with his lips could instantly rekindle desire to urgent fever pitch. He glanced down at her.

      Lips slightly parted, eyes locked on him, she stood motionless, oblivious of the footman waiting to hand her down, looking awestruck as if she, too, could not credit the strength of what just passed between them. Her hand was still outstretched where he’d released it, fingers splayed and trembling.

      Oh, yes, she felt that. Satisfaction surged through him, his only compensation for being forced to restrain himself from claiming her on the spot.

      No, Mrs. Martin, he told her silently as he bowed in farewell. This unnameable force between us cannot be ignored, try you ever so coolly to deny it. Sooner or later, all the secrets and passion you are at such pains to hide will be mine.

      Chapter Six

      Her body and mind still spellbound by the earl’s simple gesture, not until the squire offered a bluff greeting did Laura notice her host striding out.

      “Come in, come in, my lord, Mrs. Martin! We’ve guests for you to meet. Lady Elspeth and her daughter, Lady Catherine, have just arrived.”

      Another stranger. Rattled as she felt at the moment, Laura was tempted to avoid the introduction. However, she swiftly realized that if she excused herself now, she might be pressed to join the party in the drawing room later. Better to brush through this quickly and avoid a more protracted conversation over biscuits and tea.

      The arrival of his lordship’s sister, however, meant she would soon be able to return home. An unexpected ambivalence dampened the surge of relief she’d anticipated at that reprieve.

      Swallowing her protests over windblown hair and grubby gown, she followed the squire to the south parlor.

      She refused to glance at Lord Beaulieu during the short walk. Drat, how the man unsettled her! Just when she’d thought they’d developed a comfortable rapport, nurse to patient’s elder brother, he had to intrude again upon her senses with his tantalizing, dangerous appeal.

      That so small a gesture as his lips brushing her palm could evoke so agitated a response only underscored she was a fool to believe she could remain a detached acquaintance. His very presence stirred both memories she’d rather suppress and longings she could scarcely put a name to.

      She’d do better to follow her original plan of avoiding him.

      By the time she reached that conclusion, the squire had ushered them into the parlor. A beautiful, raven-haired lady with the earl’s dark eyes rose as they entered.

      “Beau!” She held out her arms.

      The earl strode over to envelop his sister in a hug. “How glad I am to see you, Ellie! But you’re so pale. A difficult journey? Or did this scamp worry you to death?”

      He turned to catch a child who hurtled into the room at him. “Uncle Beau! Do not tease Mama! She’s been sick, so I’ve been ever so good. Did Uncle Kit really get his arm—eeh!” The rest of her sentence ended in a squeal as Beau tossed her into the air.