She’d heard nothing from Ash after their quarrel in the carriage, hadn’t even seen him, though she’d kept an eye out for him everywhere. She knew he surveyed his estate each morning, but she hadn’t been able to contrive a reason for turning up at one of his outbuildings, or at the home of one of his tenant farmers. Nor had she been able to glimpse him riding across the fields, upright and handsome on a horse.

She was bewildered then, as she strolled a path in Ash’s beautiful garden, very near to where he’d kissed her, for Mr. Lovell to fall into step with her and exclaim, “Good heavens, you’re still here, Mrs. Courtland?”

Helena blinked at him. They were relatively alone, Millicent having charged off to gossip with Lady Florence. Helena had preferred to wander, lost in wistful memory. “Still where?” she asked Guy.

“Here. In Somerset. I thought you fleeing back to London.”

Helena halted in puzzlement. Ash’s neighbors milled around them, enjoying a spate of warm weather that had returned with late September and engendered the impromptu garden party.

“Why should I be fleeing to London?” Helena asked. “Millicent has invited me to stay through Christmas, and I saw no reason not to accept.”

Guy looked confused. “Didn’t Ash tell you to go?”

“Ash? No. I haven’t seen him since he declared himself well and fit again.”

Helena did not add that he’d stormed at her and had kept himself scarce ever since.

Guy opened and closed his mouth a few times in a comical way, then he took on a look of grim determination. He seized Helena by the elbow and steered her toward an empty part of the garden.

“In that case, may I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Courtland? I have a very important question to ask you.”

“PAPA!”

Lewis’s urgent whisper took Ash’s attention from a bishop he politely listened to—and thank heaven. The man was pompous and deadly dull.

Ash caught sight of his son crouched in the deep shadow between a hedge and a fountain. Lewis beckoned to Ash furtively but desperately.

“Will you excuse me, sir?” Ash said, cutting through an explanation of finances in a parish in Buckinghamshire—the man was trying, in a roundabout way, to touch Ash for money. “A visitor I must see to.”

The bishop looked annoyed but bowed his head on his thick neck. “Of course.” He moved on in search of the next guest he could beleaguer.

Before Ash could demand, “Lewis, what is the matter?” his son tore free of the bushes and bounced on his toes in agitation.

“You must come, Papa. Quickly, before it is too late.”

“Why? What has happened?” Ash’s heart raced, fear for Evie and Lily clawing at him. Were they hurt? Lost? Fallen into the stream? He started for the end of the garden, but Lewis caught his hand and pulled him back.

“This way, Papa. It’s Mrs. Courtland. And Mr. Lovell. He’s proposing to her. This very minute!”




CHAPTER 7




HELENA WITHDREW with difficulty from Guy’s grasp. He’d walked her to a remote area of the garden and halted behind a trellis of roses that climbed over the path, shielding them from view of the rest of the party.

“Whatever are you doing, Mr. Lovell?” she asked him worriedly.

“Only declaring my devotion.” Guy put a hand over his heart then fell dramatically to one knee. “Ash is a fool, Mrs. Courtland. He does not see that you are a beautiful, kindhearted woman whom any man would want as a wife. Do tell me you’ll make me the happiest man in the world, Mrs. Courtland. Helena …”

Helena stared down at him in shock. What on earth had she done to make Ash’s closest friend spring out with a proposal? Had he observed her stolen kisses with Ash, perhaps believing her a lightskirt?

No, then his proposal might be of a more repugnant kind. Or had he truly loved her from afar? And now that Ash was furious with her, even banishing her—

But then, Ash hadn’t banished her. Had Mr. Lovell got that wrong? Or was he inventing things to make her angry at Ash?

Dear heavens, what a muddle.

Helena’s mouth had gone dry, but she called to mind the phrases she’d used when gentlemen had badgered her when she’d first been widowed.

“I apologize, Mr. Lovell, if I ever gave you cause to think my feelings for you tender—”

Her words cut off with an “Oop!” as Guy jumped to his feet and seized her hand. He didn’t pull her close, but he gripped her hand very tightly.

“You never did one thing that was inappropriate,” he said. “It is my heart that is unruly. You captured it without a word. Do say you’ll marry me, dear, dear Helena.”

“No,” came a quiet voice.

Helena jumped, her heart banging. Ash stood near the trellis, one booted foot resting on a stone bench. Lewis hovered a few yards behind him, Lily and Evie clumped around him.

“Ash,” Guy said, sounding unsurprised. “My old friend, you are interrupting.”

“I know. I meant to.” Leisurely Ash came to them, took Guy’s hand, and pried it firmly from Helena’s.

Guy glared at him. “Damn it all, man. You’re interfering with my proposal of marriage.”

“Mrs. Courtland is not marrying you,” Ash said in a hard voice.

“I am not?” Helena barely could find her breath. Ash had released Guy’s hand, but not hers. He held on to Helena’s, possessing it. “That is, no, of course I am not.”

“I see no reason I oughtn’t propose to her,” Guy said in a huff. “I’m a perfectly good catch and in need of a wife. Why shouldn’t she marry me?”

“Because she’s marrying me.”

Helena stared up at Ash in amazement. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, you’re marrying me.” Ash focused his intense gray gaze upon her. “If you’ll have me.”

Helena continued to stare, her voice gone. She tried to speak, but only a croaking sound emerged.

Marry Ash? Have him look at her like this always, with softness behind his strength? Kiss her as he had before, with passion and slow warmth? Curl up with her in his bed, as she’d longed to do when he lay with nothing but his nightshirt over his well-muscled body? Only the fact that he’d been quite unwell had prevented Helena from flinging herself on him and begging shamelessly for his embrace.

“Will you?” Ash asked her, sounding less certain. “If you do refuse me, please do not give me the pain of seeing you married to my closest friend. I could not bear that.”

“Ash.” Helena found her breath, and her voice, which rang louder than she meant. “Yes! You just try and stop me marrying you.”

Lewis whooped. The girls joined in his shouts of joy, then all three began running about, turning cartwheels, Lewis kicking his legs in a handstand.

Guy grinned, looking strangely elated. “Thank you, Mrs. Courtland. Whew. For a moment there, I thought you were going to accept.”

“Oh, did you?” Helena’s bewilderment fled in a wash of indignation. “You mean you had no intention of marrying me?”

Guy held up his hands. “I’m a lifelong bachelor, me. The offspring and I had to come up with some way to remove the stick from Ash’s backside and make him propose. Not that it would be a bad thing to share a harness for life with you, Mrs. Courtland,” he added quickly. “I did not lie when I said you were a beautiful and capable woman.”

“Lovell,” Ash said in a quiet voice. “Depart.”

Guy grinned. “Right you are. Lewis—girls. Come along now. The lovebirds want to be alone.”

Lewis righted himself and saluted. Evie and Lily rushed around the trellis to Helena, a scent of late roses wafting as they flung their arms around her knees.

“Thank you!” Evie cried, and Lily said a softer, “Thank you. Mama.”

Tears stung Helena’s eyes. She sank down and gathered them close. “Oh, my girls,” she whispered. “What a gift you are.”

They hugged for a long, tender moment, then the girls swung to their father and latched on to him. “Thank you, Papa!” they cried in overlapping voices.

Ash held Evie and Lily in turn, closing his eyes. Helena hadn’t been wrong when she’d told him she knew he loved his children.

There was a jostle, and Lewis flung himself into the pile, abandoning dignity to share the embraces.

At last all three untangled themselves and dashed for the house, Evie and Lily swinging their twined hands. Guy herded them along, his rumbling voice echoing back to them.

Helena and Ash were left alone ... awkwardly. They faced each other a few feet apart, both breathing hard. Ash’s cheekbones were flushed, but his eyes held determination.

“You won’t take it back?” Helena ventured once all was quiet. “You did not ask me simply to make Mr. Lovell go away?”

“No, I do not want to take it back.” Ash’s answer was fierce, and Helena’s heart turned over. Things would never be dull between her and Ash. “Damnation, I need you to marry me.”

“Good.” Helena tentatively reached out and took his hands, her body heating when he caught hers in a firm grip. “My dear, Ash—”

She broke off as Ash dragged her to him, cupped her head in his strong hand, and kissed her.

The kiss was slow but fervent, Ash taking his time. It promised things to come, nights of passion, his hard body over hers, the two of them holding each other in the dark, staving off the autumn chill.

Ash caressed her lips with his thumb as the kiss ended, his breath on her cheek. “Helena. Love.”

Helena melted toward him then she abruptly pulled back, remembering something. “Mr. Lovell said he thought you’d commanded me to return to London.” She frowned. “Not that I would have taken any notice.”

Ash shook his head, his expression softening. “I meant to. I couldn’t bear to see you. My thoughts whenever I was with you ... The way I wanted you ... I knew my family was right that you should be my wife.”

Helena gave him a puzzled look. “Then why didn’t you tell me to leave? You could have sent Edwards with a note.”

“Because you might have gone.” Ash looked at her with his heart in his eyes. “And that would have been worse.”

“Oh,” Helena whispered, every hesitation dissolving. She slid her arms around Ash once more, feeling something complete in her as they came together. She drew him down to her and lost herself in another kiss.

This one lasted longer, roses scenting it, the sounds of laughter and the guests a long way off.

When the kiss eased to its close, Ash held Helena in a warm embrace, her head on his shoulder. She could reach up and kiss his chin whenever she wanted, feeling the brush of dark whiskers his razor could never quite take away.

“A moment.” Helena raised her head. “If I marry you, that means a wedding, which means months of planning. Weeks at the very least. We’ll both have to keep to a timetable. I believe the idea of this marriage was to dispense with schedules.”

Ash chuckled. “That is easily solved. We’ll take my coach to Gretna in the morning.”

Helena blinked. “Goodness, Ash, are you certain? An elopement? How impetuous of you.”

His smile radiated heat. “You make me impetuous, Helena. And impatient. I do not want to wait weeks or months and wade through incessant plans before I can have you.”

Helena’s body thrummed pleasantly. “I do not want to wait either.”

“Then we will go?”

“I will have to pack, of course,” she said. “But I believe I can agree to that—impetuously.”

Ash pulled her close, his arms strong, his body powerful. His next kiss stole her breath, and Helena clung to him and enjoyed it.