‘Ah, child, you know I only want what’s best for you. To see you happy and well loved and settled in your own home again, as you were with your Robbie. But you’ll not be finding that if you’re giving away your favours to “intriguing” gentlemen, without benefit of your wedding lines.’
That cut a bit too close to the bone, even coming from Polly. ‘I don’t want any wedding lines!’ she snapped back. ‘Much better to enjoy passion and part when passion cools, than to be yoked for life to a man who no longer interests me.’ Or love again and risk a loss that might drive me to madness.
Though she didn’t imagine the fire of attraction she felt for Giles Hadley would be banked for a long time. Nor, unfortunately, could she honestly claim that she believed she would find life with him tedious, once satiation had honed the sharp edge off appetite.
It was far more likely she’d find living with him very much to her taste.
But it was too late to back away now, nor did she want to. Like a troublesome filly who’d got the bit between her teeth, she would run as far and fast as she could—probably until Giles Hadley tired of the arrangement. She’d just have to restrain her enthusiasm by remembering Hadley expected a short, idyllic interlude, remind herself that was what she wanted, too, and be prepared to send him away at the first sign that he was ready to end it.
If she had any regrets afterward, she would deal with them.
She would certainly never regret the passion.
She came back to herself to discover Polly shaking her head, her expression concerned. ‘Lost as a maid gazing at the moon, dreaming of her lover. Don’t look to me like you’re about to lose interest in this gentleman.’
Probably true. But she wasn’t going to spoil the days ahead worrying about that. ‘What I’m interested in at the moment is changing my gown. I’ve got the household accounts to review, and I’m afraid today is an at-home afternoon.’
And while she was reviewing accounts, she could also review her calendar…and figure out how soon she could see Giles Hadley again.
A short drive away, Giles strode into the entrance to Parliament, a spring in his step. Whistling a merry tune, he headed towards the committee rooms, absently nodding a greeting to the men he passed.
A dawn gallop in the fresh air—and then one of the most sensual experiences of his life. Had any man ever had a more glorious morning?
He’d known from his first glimpse of her that Lady Margaret attracted him. From the first discussion at the inn in Chellingham, her understanding of Parliament and political theory had intrigued him. But never in his fondest imaginings had he anticipated what a skilled, sensual and inventive lover she would be.
Though she was a paradox, he thought with a chuckle. Initially tentative and uncertain, shy as a fawn in a meadow and as ready to bolt. Unable at first to voice what she wanted without blushing…then later, when he put himself literally into her hands, pleasuring him with boldness and skill.
He couldn’t remember being this relaxed, refreshed and…happy for a long time—if ever. If this was bewitchment, he wanted more of it!
It had all happened too fast; his senses and mind were still too stunned in the brilliant, lingering afterglow for him to understand yet the full significance of what they’d done. Or how they would navigate the tricky waters of an intimate relationship and avoid compromising her reputation.
Somehow, they would. Where exactly they might be going, he wasn’t sure. All he did know was he had to have her, and they must go forward.
Secure in that conclusion, he entered the committee room, still humming. Looking up from a stack of papers, Davie exclaimed, ‘Giles, at last! I was beginning to think you’d been abducted.’
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