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  “Oh, let me see. Tell me about him. What he looks like, for example.”

  Abigail paused, looking out the window but seeing only Philip Ashton. “Well, he’s tall. That’s one good thing about him.”

  “The only good thing?” prompted the Dowager.

  “Well, no. He does have a fine build to him…”

  “That’s good. Go on, gel, go on…”

  “His hair is dark, Grandmama. Very dark. Like midnight silk. And longer than many wear it these days. It brushes his shoulders. And his skin is a little darker than normal too. As if he spends time outside in the sunshine…”

  “I see,” mumbled the Dowager softly.

  “But the one thing that you can’t forget, once you’ve met him, is his eyes.”

  “Tell me about them, Abby,” said the old woman, leaning back in her chair and watching her granddaughter with an interested gleam.

  Abby struggled for words. “They’re blue. Well, not exactly blue. More like blue with gold flecks in them. They’re like…they’re like…sort of like the setting sun as it dances over the waves of a very blue ocean. They’re like no eyes I’ve ever seen…”

  Her voice trailed off as a shiver ran over her skin at the memory of those eyes blazing with passion.

  The Dowager’s harsh cackle interrupted her thoughts. “Well, well, my dear. He sounds like an interesting man.”

  Abby huffed a wry laugh. “Oh he is that, Grandmama.”

  “And the problem, then, would be?”

  “He’s going too fast. Moving too fast. I’m afraid…I’m scared that I’ll…”

  “Toss up your skirts and spread your thighs for him?”

  The quick and inappropriate comment surprised a chuckle out of Abby. “No, not that. I’d rather like that, I think.”

  She blushed. Thankfully, her grandmother didn’t. “Well, that’s good. So what is it about him that scares you?”

  Abby shook her head, unable to answer that question.

  “Come here, gel.” The Dowager beckoned to Abby who came and knelt by the old woman’s chair. “You’re not your mother, child.”

  Abby’s face froze. “I…I…”

  “Listen to me, Abigail. Women love in different ways, with different amounts of passion, and lust, and desire, and all the mad wildness that goes along with it.”

  Abby swallowed, hard. A lump had risen in her throat and she found herself incapable of answering.

  The Dowager’s wrinkled hand caressed Abby’s cheek in a loving gesture. “You’re a fine and intelligent woman, my girl, your father raised you well.”

  Abby made as if to speak, but found herself silenced by a cool finger pressed to her lips.

  “I’m thinking you’d be wise to give this Philip another chance. For today, lay your memories and worries aside, and just be yourself, the happy, bright, clever woman I know you are. Spend time with him. Learn about him. Put all other thoughts away for the time being. Have some fun, Abby.”

  Abby sighed. Fun. What a novel notion in connection with a man.

  “And if he steals a few kisses, so what? Maybe even a touch or two, here or there? Especially there…”

  A wicked gleam entered the Dowager’s eyes, and Abby knew her cheeks were now on fire. “Grandmama, you’re outrageous,” she giggled, her heart lightening as she realized her decision had been made.

  The butler tapped politely on the door. “Will there be any return message, Miss Abigail? The lad’s still waiting…”

  Abby stood and shook out her skirts. “There will be no return message, Jenkins, thank you. And Sir Philip Ashton will be arriving at eleven to accompany me on a drive. When he gets here, show him into the front parlor, will you?”

  “Very good, Miss,” said the butler, and withdrew, shutting the door behind him.

  “Good girl,” said the Dowager, rising slowly from her chair and leaning on her cane. “I’ll deal with that ninnyhammer Eugenia. She won’t be up until long after you’ve left, anyway.”

  She closed the distance between them and dropped a light powdery kiss on her granddaughter’s cheek.

  “Let the past go, sweetheart. Your present and your future are all that matters now. Find out if Philip is the one you want to share them with. Open your mind and your heart to the possibility. But don’t open your legs until you’re damned sure.”

  Abby’s laugh rang out, a mixture of shock and amusement. Mostly amusement. “Grandmama, I love you so dearly. I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

  The old woman smiled. “It’s mutual, gel. Now go and pick out your prettiest dress. And make sure it’s not too heavily laced, either. Frustration don’t look good on a man.”

  Abby giggled and blushed, and tried to stop her heart from jumping at the visions her grandmother’s words had aroused.

  She was going driving with Philip Ashton.

  And God help her, she couldn’t wait.

  * * * * *

  Philip Ashton’s heart thumped loudly as he handed Abigail Foxworth up into his curricle. He hadn’t run a mile or carried a heavy load up a long and winding set of stairs, yet he felt just as winded.

  The mere sight of her, waiting for him, had been all it took to remove his breath, quicken his pulse, and send a bolt of longing through his breeches.

  She wore some filmy gown of cream and green, and her hair was neatly coiled beneath a light bonnet with a broad brim.

  He’d have that damned thing off her at the earliest possible moment. He wanted to see her face, her lips, her green eyes laughing at him then turning emerald with desire.

  He wanted—he sighed. He wanted Abigail.

  And today was a new chance to find out if he could make her want him just as much.

  “Thank you,” he said to her as he grasped the reins and dismissed his tiger.

  “For what, Sir Philip?”

  The answer was formal but polite, betraying no hint of what might be going on in this woman’s mind.

  “For forgiving me. For agreeing to come with me today and enjoy this lovely weather we’re having.”

  He could have kicked himself. The weather, for God’s sake. He must sound like the veriest idiot.

  She chuckled. Well, perhaps she liked idiots. Philip’s spirits lifted at the happy sound.

  “In truth, Sir Philip, I feel that it is I who owe you an apology.”

  He risked a glance down beneath the brim of her bonnet to peer at her face. “You do?”

  “Indeed I do.” She twisted her hands in her lap. Good, she was nervous. She wouldn’t be nervous if she didn’t feel anything.

  “I must apologize for losing my temper the way I did. I have never struck a man before, and I do feel quite awful about it,” she said quietly.

  Philip carefully steered his pair through the traffic and away from the bustle of the city streets as he considered her words. He took a breath. “I forgive you.”

  She turned her head and grinned at him. His guts tightened at the beautiful sight.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was warm. “Please put it down to the rather confused emotions I was experiencing at the time. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “Oh, but I’m hoping it will, Abby.”

  She jerked her face upwards towards him again. “You do? You want me to strike you?”

  He laughed. “No, not that. You deliver quite a punch, there. I swear you loosened a few teeth.”

  She bit her lip against a laugh, obviously not put out by his gentle teasing.

  “But I’d like to experience more of those ‘confused emotions’ you spoke of.“ He couldn’t help his honesty.

  She dipped her head, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of the color flying into her cheeks. It would seem that the lady herself might not be averse to the notion of sharing some more experiences. She made no demur, just gazed from the curricle as the city streets turned into country lanes.

  “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

  “A friend of mine has a small estate no
t far from here. Augustus James. Ever hear of him?”

  Abigail was silent for a moment then nodded. “Yes. He’s the man who does some astronomical observations, isn’t he?”

  Philip smiled. “Indeed he is. It would seem you share my fascination with the sciences, Abby. Not many young women would recognize the name.”

  Any lingering awkwardness between them rapidly disappeared as their conversation moved into the path of scientific investigation, theories and a lively discussion of the pros and cons of electricity and what it might mean to their futures.

  The miles slipped by as the curricle made its way through the sunlit countryside, and Abby seemed surprised when they eased into a small turn off and the horses halted. “Why have we stopped? Are we here?”

  “Not quite. There’s something I must do first,” said Philip.

  His hands slipped to her chin and tugged at the ribbon securing her bonnet. He loosened the knot and pulled the offending headgear away from her head, tossing it behind him, where his own hat immediately followed.

  “Forgive me, Abigail, but that damned thing hides your face. I want to see you when we talk. Watch your eyes light up, and your smile…”

  He leaned closer to her, noticing her green eyes blazing as his grasp pulled her chin to within inches of his. “I can’t wait,” he breathed.

  With the lightest of touches he brushed her lips with his.

  The smile he’d been waiting for curved her mouth as he moved back, and a glow began deep in her emerald depths.

  “That was…that was most pleasant, Philip,” she said, huskily.

  “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”

  Abby cleared her throat. “But a bit risky, given that we’re in a public lane where anyone could see.”

  Philip’s brain snickered. If she wanted to see risky, she should take a look inside his mind and peek at some of the visions he was having right about now.

  He sighed. “Not much further.”

  He clicked up his horses, and as he had promised, a tidy little estate came into view less than fifteen minutes later.

  They drove up the neat driveway, and found themselves at the foot of a small set of stairs leading to a warm stone mansion.

  It was small compared to some other country homes, but had an air of contentment about it, as if it was quite happy the way it was, and so were its residents.

  None of whom, apparently, had been notified of their arrival. The front court was empty, and the door closed.

  “Is anyone home?” asked Abigail curiously.

  “Don’t know,” answered Philip. “I did send a message, but Augustus is notoriously absent-minded when it comes to visitors. He may be here, he may not. It makes no matter. I have a key.”

  Abby allowed him to hand her down from the curricle, reaching for her bonnet. His hand stopped her.

  “You won’t be needing that, Abby. Not here. We scientists are an informal bunch, you know. Protocol and etiquette are not things we care much about at all.”

  Abigail let her hand fall away from her bonnet and simply nodded.

  Philip tethered his team to a convenient hitching post and tugged a bale of hay close. The water trough was full and clean, and the sun warm. Philip left them without a qualm.

  Together the couple mounted the steps, and Philip raised his hand to the huge wrought iron doorknocker which he let fall with a massive thud.

  Several minutes later a rather harried servant appeared, dressed in shirtsleeves and a large apron.

  “Good heavens, Sir Philip. What a shock you gave me. Thought it was the toll of doom, for sure.” The man sputtered as he attempted to wipe his hands on his apron.

  “Sir Augustus didn’t get my message, then?” Philip asked the question quite casually.

  “He’s not here, Sir. ‘Tis just me, today. Sir Augustus took it in his mind to see some planetary alignment from an observatory built by a friend of his. He’s gone ‘til the weekend.” The man looked apologetic.

  “I’m sorry we missed him, Mumford. D’you think it would be all right if we visited for a while? I’d like to show Miss Foxworth around.”

  “Why of course, Sir. You’re a welcome guest any time, you know that. And you too, Miss.” He bowed politely. “I’m afraid there’s little to offer you in the way of refreshments, though. Mrs. Harper’s gone off to see her new grandson, so ‘tis just me…I could make some tea or something…” Mumford fluttered his hands rather helplessly, as if the thought of making tea was one of the mysteries of life.

  Philip chuckled. “Mumford. This is me, remember? I don’t need tea. And I’ve brought a luncheon for Miss Foxworth and myself. You just go off and do whatever you were doing, and don’t worry about us. We’ll take a peep at Augustus’s telescopes and then probably wander off into those orchards of yours and enjoy our lunch. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave. Does that fit in to your schedule?”

  Mumford allowed a grin to cross his features. “Indeed it does, Sir. Always the thoughtful visitor, you are. My schedule consists of cleaning the silverware, but I don’t mind telling you, I’d rather picnic in the orchard with a lovely lady any day.” He colored slightly and bowed to Abby.

  She smiled back. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you, Mumford. I can assure you I won’t touch anything or get in your way.”

  “Not at all, Miss. Touch whatever you want. Sir Philip here is about as good as Sir Augustus at this stuff. He can show you everything.”

  Indeed, thought Philip. That pretty much summed up his plan for the day. He was, without a doubt, going to show Abigail everything.

  And very little of it had to do with astronomy.

  Chapter 7

  Abigail felt a shiver of expectancy run through her as Philip slid his hand beneath her arm and brushed her breast as he did so.

  It was a genteel gesture, intended to guide her up the stairs to Sir Augustus’s observatory, but instead of sending thoughts of science her way, it sent other more wicked thoughts screaming through her brain.

  She reprimanded herself. She was here to pursue one of her interests. Astronomy.

  Not Philip Ashton.

  And she was lying to herself once more.

  The rooms Philip showed her were fascinating, and he allowed her a peek through Augustus’s telescopes, focusing them for her on the nearby apple orchards.

  “That’s where we’ll have our lunch, I think, Abby. It’s quiet and shady, and lovely at this time of year.”

  His voice was deep, and he was close behind her, under the pretense of adjusting the telescope.

  She felt his lips touch her neck. “Although, of course, lunch with you would be lovely any time of year.”

  She shivered, quite noticeably this time. “A nice turn of phrase, Sir Philip.” It came out more as a breathy plea than the polite response she’d intended.

  She cleared her throat, and turned, finding Philip close. Too close.

  His body heat reached her skin through the light muslin of her gown, and her awareness of him grew by leaps and bounds.

  She licked her lips.

  His eyes lowered to watch her tongue, and she found herself fascinated as the colors within them changed from light blue to a rich, deep hue, shot through with those amazing golden flecks.

  “I find I’m getting hungry, my dear. Luncheon calls, don’t you think?” Philip’s words were quietly seductive, and Abby’s thighs trembled.

  She nodded. There was a large obstruction in her throat making speech difficult, and she confessed to herself that she didn’t want to talk, anyway.

  She wanted other things.

  She blushed.

  He dropped a light kiss on her lips and turned away. “I’ll grab our basket from the curricle, and meet you on that path there…” He pointed from the window to a lane, which led from the house into the forest beyond which lay the orchards.

  With rather shaky steps, Abby descended the staircase and walked out into the sunshine, finding the path he’d shown her with ease.<
br />
  Her mind, however, was far from easy.

  Mere minutes in Philip’s company had turned her knees to mush, and her body to a needy ache. She knew if he touched her there’d be no going back, and in truth, she wanted none.

  She was almost twenty-three and had found a man who could light her inner fires with just a glance from his eyes or the brush of his hand.

  She was a virgin, yet was awakening to all that a man could offer her in the way of passion and desire. The feelings brought a rush of moisture to her thighs, and she knew her nipples were hardening at the notion of sharing “lunch” with him in the quiet privacy of an orchard glade.

  Her grandmother had been right. She wanted to toss up her skirts and beg Philip to fill her, to make her whole, to touch that needy place that he’d already roused, and teach her what passion really was.

  She was ready.

  And judging from the rather nice bulge in Philip’s snug breeches that showed clearly as he walked towards her, so was he.

  She couldn’t help it. She grinned.

  * * * * *

  Abigail was smiling. Damn. Philip was in trouble now, and he knew it.

  He spared a thought for the contents of the basket he’d had the forethought to demand from Rachel’s cook, and the blanket he’d tossed over his shoulders.

  There was no question in his mind which would get used first.

  He moved to her side, letting her pull the blanket from him and place it over her arm. He took her hand, rejoicing as her fingers curled around his, and together they walked silently along the quiet path, listening to the birds as they sang all around them.

  A sensual awareness was building between them, and Philip could feel it just as surely as the warm sunshine that beat down on his shoulders.

  By the time they reached a leafy glade and she’d spread the blanket tidily on a soft patch of grass, his cock felt ready to explode. He wanted her more than he wanted air to breathe, and he forced himself to remember that she was, as yet, untried.

  A tremor of excitement rumbled through his balls.

  She would be his. He would be her first. No other man would claim this woman. His woman.

  He stripped off his jacket and tossed his cravat after it, tugging his shirt loose and making himself as comfortable as a man could be with two tons of eager cock strangling between his thighs.