Page 120 of The Lord Meets His Lady

His thumb traced her collarbone, and her skin pebbled. She was responsive to his touch. Needy, yet giving at the same time. “You called me Lord Bowles a few minutes ago. I want us to be…Marcus and Genevieve all the time. Not master and servant.”

Plush pink lips parted. “We are, Marcus, just a man and a woman. For a little while. We are.”

Her fingers combed hair off his temple. She stood with him, fully clothed, yet her presence alone was fully satisfying—and that scared him to the marrow of his bones.

Because he loved her.

And he was certain she didn’t need him. Not in the life-giving, soul-satisfying way he believed love existed. Not in the way he needed her. His independent housekeeper from lesser places had thrived on a sliver of the bounty that he’d been bred on. She was a survivor who had plans to find a respectable life, plans that didn’t include him.

Genevieve squeezed his caressing hand. “Time to get on with the day. The horses need you.”

“You don’t have to work all the time.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said, rounding the bed. “I’ve been busy this morning. There’s something I want to show you.”

“As your employer, I decree you’ve earned a well-deserved half day.”

She pushed back the curtain. “Not today.”

“We could idle away an hour or two.” He patted the bed. “Right here. We’ll work on your reading.” He grinned, adding, “Fully clothed, of course.”

“Or not?” She winked.

His morning erection stirred to her teasing. Daylight spilled around her waist, her hips. The tip of her long braid swung across her bottom’s ripe swell under plain skirts.

“A visitor, milord.” Genevieve peered through the glass. “That gentleman from last night…Lord Barnard.”