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“Then let us not waste a moment. After all, you do need your rest.”

They did not hurry, however. Henry divested her of her chemise slowly, groaning at the sight of her breasts. He cupped them, testing their fullness, teasing her nipples with a light squeeze before bending to suck them. She clutched his hair, her back arching into his touch.

“You are magnificent, Artemisia,” he told her. “But tell me something. You were married, were you not?”

“I was. My late husband suffered a carriage accident several years ago. I have no desire to remarry.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Don’t be too relieved,” she chided. He chuckled and stroked her between her legs, finding her wet and ready for him.

“No children?”

Sadness pinched her, sharp and hard. “No. I’m glad for that,” she lied. “Our marriage was not particularly amicable. I wouldn’t have wanted to bring a child into it. That was the source of many of our arguments, unfortunately. He blamed me.”

Two blue eyes, one rimmed with dark violet and green bruises, the other clear, met hers. “How did he know he wasn’t the problem? It takes two parties to make a baby.”

“He had a daughter out of wedlock,” Artemisia told him. “Another cause of many a fight. I can be utterly impossible to live with. You can rest assured I will not fall pregnant and trap you into an unwanted marriage, Henry, for I cannot bear children.”

“Perhaps,” he said, sounding unconvinced as he fitted himself to her. “For tonight, I want to make believe. Since the stakes are low. Sooner or later, you will go off to help your cousin, and I will either regain my memories or find a way to start fresh here in Cavalier Cove. Neither future is conducive to starting a family.” He inched inside her, stretching, filling her. Artemisia gasped. “Let’s pretend I’m going to fill your beautiful belly with our child.”

He kissed her so sweetly that tears sprang to her eyes.

“I’d like that,” she whispered. “I adore children. I always wanted them. They see the world with such curiosity and innocence.”

“You’re protective,” Henry said fondly. “You would make a wonderful mother.”

He pressed forward again, his hips rolling, withdrawing and returning in a timeless, unhurried rhythm. Enjoying the act as much as she was. Not rushing through it. Her pleasure caught her quickly. Artemisia came with a gasp.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me again.” He shifted her around, entering her from behind, propping her leg up with one forearm and stroking the tight button at the apex of her sex with the other.

His movements stuttered, hips pistoning into her as the climax took them. Artemisia clung to him for dear life. Their lips clashed and missed, finding one another again and again as they crested the peak together.

When it was over, she lay in his arms, breathless and sated. Henry kissed her temple and tugged her close against his chest.

“No need for leeches in breeches after all,” he mumbled. “I knew you were capable of curing me. No worms needed.”

“Such a romantic sentiment.” His low chuckle rumbled through her. Artemisia pulled his arm tighter around her waist. She did not want to think of Mr. Longwood and his constant criticisms. How even in the tender silence after lovemaking he would find ways to criticize her. Instead, she felt content. Right. She loved the feeling of being held by a man. The crisp hairs on his chest and legs a contrast to her softer skin. The thick hardness of his bones and the planes of his muscles where she had only generous curves.

She imagined Henry taking root in her womb. She lay there awake for a long time imagining the child she had failed to conceive with her husband, marinating in the depths of her own inability, and worried for her cousin Margaret. Artemisia was a terrible person for abandoning her relative at such a delicate moment, to take pleasure with a complete stranger in a roadside inn.

As Artemesia had predicted, no matter what choice she made, guilt was inevitable.

6

HENRY

Henry awoke to a woman’s soft body tucked beside his. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such contentment. Which made sense when he thought about it; before he couldn’t remember much of anything at all prior to waking up in a stranger’s carriage, nude.

He must have gotten there somehow. He hadn’t sprung into that hedge, naked as a newborn babe, out of nowhere.

Artemisia’s bosom rose and fell with steady breaths. Outside the rain had slowed but not stopped entirely. The roads would be impassable for at least a day or two. He ought to use his time wisely to try and figure out how he had arrived in Cavalier Cove.

Someone had to know who he was.

The widow sighed in her sleep. He dropped a tender kiss on her cheek. “Morning.”

“Already?” she mumbled.