Page 4 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)

This friendship had, to Lewis’s immense delight, also led to an introduction to Miss Kinsey.

It did not matter that she was of humble origins.

He had no need of rank or money. He earned enough, and he had experienced firsthand how nobility—and the subsequent lack thereof—could affect the dynamics within a family.

Besides, the viscount had married a country gentlewoman without prior status and see how happy they were! Lady Howell had risen to the role of viscountess with ease and had not compromised her good nature in the process.

Certainly, Miss Kinsey was not genteel by birth or upbringing, as the viscountess was, but she would not be hosting dinners on an estate.

Lewis could be satisfied with a comfortable home, the minimum of servants, and a few good friends if Jillian Kinsey filled each day with her sunshine.

No title or money could buy that kind of happiness, and he was determined to claim it.

This was the business he wished to discuss with his friend Howell.

He needed advice. Despite his bravado, he suspected his parents would not be pleased with his choice of bride.

He needed to know he at least had the viscount’s support.

If he did, the Bradford family would be less likely to protest. After all, a guest at Munro House was a rarity, and Miss Kinsey was akin to a sister to her ladyship, her visits frequent and lengthy.

If she was good enough for the viscount and viscountess, who were his parents to judge her insufficient?

Right now, however, such serious thought was difficult to sustain.

Miss Kinsey was whispering her little plot into his ear, her voice tickling his senses and doing funny things to his self-control.

Thank goodness propriety required him to wear gloves.

If he should touch her with his naked hands, feel the smoothness of her arm, the fine details of her fingers, he would be quite undone.

With each visit, he had found it more challenging to resist her lips, her neck, her curves.

It was just as well Miss Kinsey had been assigned two chaperones.

If they had evaded the previously singular chaperone, Lewis would not want to circle back as their usual game required.

He would want to linger alone with her, and…

No, a lady’s maid should definitely remain with them!

“And so,” whispered Miss Kinsey, as if reading his mind, “if we head in separate directions, we can easily elude them, as we have done before, and meet up at that tree.” She pointed to a large oak that stood out among its kin.

“We shall be able to watch them as they search for us. Then we shall jump out and surprise them! It will be terribly fun.”

It was all very well. They had done this sort of thing many a time.

But today, Lewis knew that if they were to be alone, he would not wish to be found again.

He would want to pull Miss Kinsey to his breast and kiss her mouth, her eyes, her shoulders, until she groaned with pleasure.

She would say they should stop, then beg him not to.

And he had no right to any of it.

Not until they were betrothed.

He would go down on bended knee this minute, in sight of both footmen if need be, but he didn’t want to rush into it.

Howell knew her better, would have a clearer sense of her thinking.

There was risk in both Miss Kinsey’s possible answers to his proposal.

If she rejected his suit, it would make things dashed awkward between them.

And if she agreed to be his wife, there was no going back.

Not without considerable consequences, which he did not wish on either of them.

He wanted to make her happy. But she was not like other women.

He would not manage it with dresses or jewels or a house in the fashionable district of Munro.

She needed regular visits to her family and lots of space to roam like the wild thing she was.

He had enough funds to arrange travel and a home on the outskirts of the city, where she might have her own kitchen garden for vegetables and herbs, and a shaded lawn for their children to play.

He had even considered the merits of keeping their own chickens, though he knew nothing about the feasibility of such an idea.

And he had ideas aplenty. A barrister was never short of studied arguments in his client’s best interest. Here and now, however, he was the undecided party seeking counsel.

He considered the supple arm of Miss Kinsey once more. It was quite delectable. And she smelled wonderful. His mind began to wander into dangerous territory again.

“Er… I think perhaps we should take pity on the servants, just this once,” he said. “I cannot imagine they relish their roles as your chaperones. Let us not make it more burdensome for them.”

“Oh,” said Miss Kinsey, her bright eyes clouding over. “You don’t want to play?”

A growl of desire rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He wanted to play very much. But not this game.

“I would rather spend my time with you than seek ways to evade our watchers by separating.”

“Oh,” said Miss Kinsey again, though this time her lovely neck became pink and flushed. “If that is what you want…”

“It is.”

“Well, if we are not to play hide and seek with my chaperones, what shall we talk about?”

Lewis looked ahead toward the path as it shrunk into the distance, but his thoughts went even further, into a future he had yet to tread.

He pictured Mrs. Jillian Bradford standing in the doorway of their home, a row of cheerful flowers lining the path that led to it.

He tilted his face toward the object of his hopes and said, “Tell me what you know about chickens.”