In the meantime, his appetites were roused by lack of female companionship. He had been imprisoned for weeks. Surely that was the only reason he was thinking of the Wintry Widow with such fierce carnal interest. She was a task to accomplish, nothing more.
Still, when he lifted his hand and waved his visitors away, he drawled, “Not you, Angelica. I want you to stay.”
She licked her lips.
“Lock the door, love. Then turn down the lamps.”
Christopher sighed as the lights dimmed. Not Lady Winter. But in a darkened room, she could pass.
Chapter 3
“Can I tell you all the many things I adore about you, mhuirnín?”
Maria shook her head, her mouth curving in a faint smile. Arm’s distance away, Simon lounged on the opposite bench, his large frame beautifully covered in cream-colored satin embroidered with flowers in fine gold thread. Against the backdrop of a serene lake and green grass, the singular color of his blue eyes stood out with stunning effect.
“No?” he drawled. “Well, then. How about one? I do adore that tilt to your chin you affect when wearing your Wintry Widow façade. And the ice blue silk with white lace is a stroke of genius.”
Her smile widened. She was nervous, and Simon had noted the constant twirling of her parasol and sought to alleviate her disquiet. Behind her, the imposing stone edifice that was the home of the Earl and Countess of Harwick provided the roof under which she would pass the next three days. “It is expected, Simon darling. Mustn’t disappoint our hostess, you know.”
“Of course not. I, too, find it delightful. So what is the infamous widow planning for this weekend’s house party?”
“Who can say so early on?” she murmured, her gaze moving over the assembled guests. Some sat on benches like she did, the females reading or working on needlepoint, the gentlemen standing nearby on the lawn. “A bit of mayhem, perhaps? A sprinkle of intrigue?”