Page 106 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“All yours,” she agreed, as she laughed and cried at once.

He kissed away her tears and she tumbled into a dreamless sleep, safe and happy for the first time in her life.

“I don’t want to leave,” Ned said as he picked up his hat from the bed and looked around to make sure nothing had been forgotten.

He felt as if he’d been living in a dream, the most perfect, wonderful dream he’d ever had. He’d never known such joy, such pleasure could be found with another. Before he’d married there had been lovers enough. He’d been young, lusty, and good-looking, and there had been plenty of lasses willing to take a tumble with him. Yet, though there had been those he’d been fond of—one he might even have married if Sarah hadn’t caught him—he’d never loved before. Not like this. Not with the intensity of feeling that made him believe Grace had been knitted into every fibre of his being. The bursting sensation of love that filled his chest, and the hot surge of desire that shot straight to his loins whenever he looked at her, were overwhelming.

There was foreboding in his heart, though, and he feared if they left this room the world would intrude, and their idyll would shatter.

It made his heart hurt.

“Me either,” Grace said, moving to him and slipping her hand into his. “But it will be nice to go home too, won’t it?”

There was an edge to her voice, and he knew what she feared: that her brother would hear the news and come looking for her, or that perhaps Mr Carrington, with his wealth and his power, would seek retribution. Those were things he didn’t fear. If any man came after Grace—if either of them ever hurt her, or tried to, by word or deed—Ned would break them.

No, it was life he feared. The kind of life he led that she’d only had a taste of as yet. The kind of life she ought to be above, and the way those she’d known before she married him would treat her.

She’d said she loved him, and the knowledge blazed inside him like a beacon and his heart huddled beside it, clinging to the warmth it gave him. Yet love didn’t always endure in the face of hardship or adversity, not if it wasn’t strong enough. He’d rescued her, and she was grateful for that, she’d found safety with him and much of what she felt was because of that safety.

Would she love him still when her new life had lost its novelty, and she realised the world she’d been born to was gone forever….

“It will,” he said, leaning down to kiss her nose. “It will be good to be home… and to share my bed with ye,” he added, smiling at her as she laughed and the weight in his heart eased at the sound of it.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her agreement, a naughty glint in her eyes. “And the house will be cold when we get in, so we shall have to light the fires and go straight to bed to keep warm, until the chill has gone.”

Ned kissed her properly for that, still stunned by the ease with which she owned her desire for him, for the pleasure she took in his body, in her own. Sarah had made him feel ashamed and frustrated by his needs and wants, but that was long forgotten now.

“Come on then, Mrs Hardy, before I tumble ye onto yer back once more and have my way with ye.”

“Wicked man,” she said with a sigh, though her blue eyes twinkled with mirth and he was sorely tempted to do just that.

Wanting to put off the return to reality for as long as possible, Ned insisted on taking her shopping. Though the fashionable set were gone for the winter, there were shops of the kind she’d not find closer to home, and he wanted her to have everything she could desire. It would be a while before they left the farm again, especially if the weather closed in. When there were animals to feed and preparations to be made for crops and planting, it was not an easy thing to leave the farm unattended for long.

As ever, she was reluctant to spend his money, but he persuaded her to buy two books—novels of the kind her father had denied her—and a good pair of sturdy boots that were fashionable but able to withstand the rigours of farm life. He also bought her a soft cashmere wrap, the price of which made his eyes bulge, but it was a vibrant sapphire blue and matched the colour of her eyes, and he couldn’t leave the shop without buying it for her.

“No,” she insisted sternly, though she was laughing too. “I’ve been so spoiled, Ned, truly. The only thing I want now is to go home with you. To our home,” she added, the tone of her voice such that Ned stopped in his tracks as the desire to kiss her, here in public, was almost overwhelming.

“Miss Honeyfield?”

They turned to see two young women, and an older lady Ned assumed to be their mother, hurrying towards them. Ned stiffened as he took in the finery of the ladies’ apparel. The mother had a fur-lined cloak which only made her ample figure look rather like a ship in full sail as the wind caught it. A gloved hand held it tightly as the other righted her bonnet, so over-trimmed with ribbons, lace, and faux fruit it was a wonder the seagulls hadn’t taken a fancy to it and snatched it from her head.

“It is you,” said one of the young women, an attractive brunette of an age with Grace, whose curious gaze darted between him and his wife.

“It is indeed,” Grace replied easily as she greeted the women. “How do you do?”

The ladies replied that they did very well, thank you, though they were obviously rabid with the desire to know why Grace was walking unchaperoned with a man.

“Mrs Norrell, Miss Norrell, Miss Eliza, may I present my husband to you, Mr Edward Hardy.”

There was a stunned silence.

Ned bowed, too aware of the widening of the women’s eyes and the way they looked him up and down, seemingly appalled. There was a glint of interest in the young ladies’ expressions, but it was the kind of appraising look they might have given a prize bull, not the kind reserved for a gentleman.

“Hardy?” Mrs Norrell repeated, a nervous edge to her voice. “I don’t think I know any Hardys from these parts. Are your people from—”

“Yes, you do, mama,” said, Miss Eliza, giggling a little. “Mr Hardy owns that sheep farm at Burwash Weald. He bought some land from Papa last year. Didn’t you, Mr Hardy?”

“Aye,” Ned said, nodding, though for a fraction of a second some ridiculous part of his heart urged him to deny it. Then pride reared its head, and he stood a little taller. He had bought land, and he’d be buying more. He was no pauper, no gentleman, but not a man with nothing to offer either. “That’s right.”