"This way, then." She picked up one of the lamps she'd lit during the meal and led him through the kitchen into a butler's pantry, then down a narrow hall. A plain wooden door opened into a small suite, simply but comfortably furnished. She led him through the sitting room into a bedroom with a decently sized wrought iron bed and a fire ready to be started in the grate.
"This is perfect," he said, leaning against the doorframe. His arm around her shoulder felt natural and he let himself enjoy, just for a moment, the sensation of having an attractive woman snuggled close to his side. "I am sorry to impose, but I'm not sorry to have had the chance to meet in such quiet surrounds. I imagine our conversation would have gone very differently with four children in the room."
"Aye." He felt her relax against him and lean that glossy chestnut head against his chest. The soft scent of heather mingled with the musky aroma of a woman who'd spent the whole day working. "I'm still finding it hard to believe this is all real - that we can truly stop worrying about whether we can afford shoes when Arthur has outgrown his last pair or nails to fix the footbridge."
"I promise, 'tis real." He heard the gruff huskiness in his own voice, felt his shaft harden. He touched her cheek with one finger. "On my honor, your family will never need to worry about such things again."
She lifted her face to his, her eyes bright and shining in the flickering light of the lamp. "Thank you."
Colin didn't stop to think. His body simply responded by instinct. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he slowly lowered his face to hers, their eyes never breaking contact. There was plenty of time for her to pull back, or even just turn her head and reject his kiss, but she didn't. Then his lips touched hers and time hung suspended.
She was soft, so very soft. His hand tightened on her waist as his lips moved against hers. When he lightly nipped her full lower lip, she let out an inarticulate cry, which gave him the opportunity to slip the tip of his tongue inside her mouth.
Oh, lord, she tasted like heaven. How had he ever been attracted to willowy blondes who never did a day's work in their lives? This woman, curvy, sweet and strong, felt perfect in his arms. Her untutored but eager response to his kiss had him reaching for the fastening of her gown.
She didn't stop him as he untied the tapes at the back of her gown, making the snug bodice droop off her shoulders. The sleeves trapped her arms at her sides and he nudged her shift down as well, revealing two lush, white mounds. With one arm still wrapped about her waist to hold her still, he used the other to cup one of her heavy breasts. Her nipples were small, but tautly furled and he grazed it gently with his thumb, wondering how it would taste.
"Oh!" She pulled away from him, clutching the burning oil lamp that she'd clearly almost dropped.
Colin swallowed hard and sagged against the doorframe. Holy hell, they'd nearly burned the house down, literally as well as figuratively. With his own hands shaking more than he'd like to admit, he reached out and took the lamp from Augusta's hands, while she made an effort to cover herself.
"I'd apologize, but it would be a lie," he said thickly, setting the lamp down on a nearby chest. "I am sorry for getting carried away though."
"I - ah - " She squeezed her eyes shut and backed out the doorway until her back bumped into the wall of the corridor behind her. "G-g-goodnight, my lord."
"Colin," he told her as she turned and fled toward the kitchen, without so much as a candle to light her way. "After that, you had probably better know my name."
Augusta rose at the break of dawn, as usual and went out to feed the chickens and gather eggs. She'd had virtually no sleep the night before, having tossed and turned all night replaying Colin's kiss in her mind. Lord Bruxton. She had to remember to call him that, even in her thoughts. Just because they'd kissed didn't mean a thing. It had been a simple thank you for her taking care of him. Even what had happened next - his hands on her breasts - well that had just been them both losing their heads. There was nothing personal in it, she reminded herself. Just the simple way of things between a man and a woman. The problem was it hadn't felt simple to Augusta. Not at all. She couldn't help remembering how just the touch of his lips had made her breasts swell and her lower belly ache with longing for something - something she'd never felt before, or even really thought about. Being around Lord Bruxton was more unsettling than anything in her previous experience.
She returned to the house to find him waiting for her in the kitchen. He'd even managed to fill the kettle and start it heating on the stove, along with slicing some bread and setting it on the rack to toast.
"Good morning," she said, trying to mask her shock at his unexpected domestic capability. "I gather your head is feeling better this morning?"
"Considerably," he replied with an easy smile that made her belly quiver.
Why couldn't he be an ugly old troll? Pampered and useless like his cousin? It would make her life far less confusing.
"Are those fresh eggs I spy in that basket?"
Augusta looked down at the basket on her arm, which was indeed, full of eggs and nodded. How did he reduce her to speechlessness just by flipping toast in his shirtsleeves?
"Dare I hope that a few of them are for our breakfast?" Now the winsome smile was that of a hungry little boy - one Augusta found much easier to deal with. Arthur was always hungry. It seemed that didn't change as a boy grew into a man.
"I just went to town yesterday, so all of today's eggs are for us to use," she said, setting the basket down on the table. "Do you prefer yours boiled or scrambled?"
"Scrambled, please. And if there's any ham or bacon secreted away, I promise I'll replace it this afternoon. I find myself utterly famished this morning."
"I think I can find something." She couldn't help smiling back at him. It was such an enormous relief not to have to worry about rationing out the food supply. "All that exercise yesterday has made me hungry too."
"I need to head into the village as soon as we've eaten," he continued as soon as she'd returned from the pantry with the last slab of bacon. "I need to see if I can hire a carriage and if not, I need to send for mine from Fordyce Hall. Make up a list and I'll have whatever supplies you need sent out as well. Just do me a favor and let me use the drawbridge this time."
"I should put a rope across the end of the footbridge until it's repaired," she replied ruefully, "so no one else gets hurt." She began cracking eggs into a big work bowl while he sliced thick rashers of the bacon and placed them into a heavy iron skillet.
"I'll do that while you finish cooking," he said. "I assume I can find a rope in the stable?"
"There should be some hanging on the wall. The windlass for lowering the drawbridge is in the left hand gatehouse."
"I'll find it. Be back shortly." He leaned over, bussed her cheek and darted out through the kitchen door before she could respond.
Augusta turned the bacon with a long fork and shook her head. What in heaven's name was she supposed to do with that man?