A Secret Passion by Sophia Nash Page B

pressing into the juncture of her thighs. Never had she been so out of breath or so embarrassed. She let him continue out of a mixture of unknown desire and curiosity and the fact that she could not seem to call forth any words to her mouth. She breathed deeply. The scent of male and cologne made her throat ache. She could hear his ragged breaths as his mouth moved down her neck, feathering kisses to her breast. She stopped breathing when she felt his warm palm massage her breast through the thin fabric. He gathered her hand in his other and raised it to his lips.
    “Really, my dear, we should continue this in the cottage nearby,” the earl whispered.
    His words jolted Jane into action. She shook off the mesmerizing trance and confronted the earl. “I think not.”
    “Mrs. Lovering, you are a widow. I am a widower. What more need be said? Do you not long for a liaison? I am here for you now, for the asking,” he whispered as he nipped the lobe of her ear. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed gently.
    “You are very kind to offer. However, I am not inclined.” Her words hid the truth. She was terrified by his suggestion. As Jane did not want to show her fear and naiveté, she continued, “Perhaps another time—if I am ever inclined, that is.”
    Lord Graystock gazed at her. “If I did not know you to have been married, I would take your reaction to be that of a very green girl. Or are you just a coquette?” he said.
    He could see through her. Jane reached down to retrieve the wrap skirt and secured it. She dared not say another word, lest she say the wrong thing. Distance was the answer. She walked to her horse and mounted without looking back.
    “I hope I have not scared you. It wasn’t my intention.”
    “You did not scare me, my lord. I am expected by my aunt. She was unhappy with the idea of my riding your horse. It seems a groom’s sister alarmed her with a description of your brute. It is long past the time that I should be on my way.”
    “There will be no further training sessions, then?”
    Jane refused to take the bait. “Good day to you, sir.”
    “And good morning to you, Mrs. Lovering,” he said, and stood looking after her long after she had gone from sight.

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    JANE felt ridiculous as she rode back to the cottage. She hated speaking falsehoods. And yes, it had been a falsehood, if only one by omission. As she trotted past the hedgerows with jonquils just raising their thin necks toward the sun, she cursed her inexperience with men. It left her feeling embarrassed and unsure of herself.
    Since Cutty’s death, several young gentlemen throughout the season had paid court to her with her father’s urging, despite her state of mourning. Some—Mr. Billingsley was the prime example—were more determined than others. At each encounter, she felt no desire for any type of intimacy, physical or emotional. She did not want to be anyone’s possession. She had learned to avoid intimate settings such as Vauxhall at night and walks in gardens during evening entertainments. She had even fended off Mr. Billingsley’s amorous advances in an open carriage in Hyde Park when they found themselves in a secluded area. He had become so annoyed by her repeated refusal to accept his ungainly embraces that he had proposed marriage on the spot. She had had no idea that he was serious and would arrange an audience with her father. If only Cutty had not died, she wouldn’t have had to endure these sorts of situations.
    Cutty had been a kind, generous man who had loved her. He was old school. Jane had slept each night of her married life with her husband. He had respected and cared for her in every way imaginable. Each night he had kissed her cheeks, held her, and even brushed her hair as she sat at her escritoire in her cozy bedchamber. But, he had explained, he was unable to… well, to complete the act that could conceive a child. In truth, it was the reason she had agreed to marry