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Aidan Francis Saivings about er with ten words in his naood wife, or how she would cope with the inti of love She’d never been courted or kissed Now it appeared her first kiss would coest name in Christendom Maybe the duke wouldn’t even kiss her Perhaps he would think a Welsh baron’s daughter too common, too far beneath him He’d certainly think so if he saw her now, in her faded riding gown

Gwen picked her way through the flowers to the line of ancient boulders bordering the lake, and kicked off her boots Her stockings went next, tossed upon the grass alongside her bonnet She cliled her feet down into the water, and wondered how it could feel so chilly when the air was so warm She closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap, and began to pray, so child Ask the heavens for what your heart wants, she would say Ask the flowers and wind and sky You are never alone; the earth knows your prayers

“Please,” she whispered “Please let hientle” Often when she prayed like this, she pictured her ht her co but the wind “Please let hiht a moment “If I had to make a choice between the handsomeness and the kindness, I suppose I would prefer to have kindness, although adose of both qualities would be best And if it’s not too ht come to love me, if he’s the sort of duke who’s not too lofty to fall in love”

“Ael has flown into my wood”

The deep voice drew her from her whispered prayers Someone had discovered her secret meadoen turned to find the source of the voice, and nearly fell off her rock

It was her handsoer, not twenty yards away

The gorgeouscrossed lazily over the other He was older than her, but still fit and vital His long, golden hair framed a starkly attractive face Not a pretty face He was no pretty , with a strong jawline and pro, he was sun-bronzed and able-bodied She could not re any man with such wide shoulders, or such a muscular chest Despite his showy physique, he was dressed plainly in doeskins and a buff vest He balanced a sketch book on his knee, and a se of charcoal sullied his cheek

This Viking had called her an angel, which was perhaps not entirely proper of hian to flush

“You aren’t in Paradise,” she said “You’re in Wales, a very pretty corner of it”

“Indeed,” he replied

He said only that one word, but the way he said it s and boots She knew she ought to leave without saying another word, but he was so appealing to look at, and his eyes seemed kind

“Where have you come from?” she asked, which seemed a very safe and polite question to occupy hio

He esture toward the north “I’ve traveled down from Cheltenham”

That explained his English accent “Were you there to take the baths?”

“Yes, and then I continued in search of picturesque Welsh villages” He held up his book “I’m an artist, and what a lovely subject I’ve stumbled upon Will you allow me to sketch you?”

She grimaced as she stuffed her feet into her too-small boots “I’m sure you could find a better subject thanto tuck her hair beneath it

He leaned forward “Don’t”

The authority in his tone o still

He s smile that was so beautiful “I wish you wouldn’t hide your lovely face beneath that brim and run away from me Please, let me sketch you It will only take a short while”

Goodness, the way he looked at her Perhaps a handsoer will befriend me and fall deeply in love with me, and secret me to his hilltop castle She wondered if this man had a hilltop castle Why, he was so , she’d settle for a cabin in the woods

Gwen decided she would let hih it was not quite proper, because he was her handsoer and because she could amuse Tilda with the story later And here, at last, was aShe certainly adaze, his broad shoulders, his lips

Guinevere Vaughn, you want him to kiss you

Of course she would never let hi about ato kiss her Perhaps he only wished to draw her He certainlyher chin just so, and arranging her hair so it fell over her shoulders in just the perfect way

As he did this, she thrilled to his nearness and his uncommon size He smelled wonderful, like soap and sandalwood, and his eyes were a beautiful deep blue He ard was so intense that she looked away She stared instead at his lips, pursed in concentration My goodness, did all men have such attractive lips, or had she fallen under soel in this meadow, come down from heaven to tempt her chastity mere hours before she was to wed

“Can you sit very still?” he asked “And hold this pose for me?”

“I’ll try”

She wondered if he was a famous sort of artist His clothes were coly fine She had heard of artists so obsessed with their craft that they cared nothing foralmost as hermits, with dirty clothes and disheveled hair Not that this man was dirty or disheveled He was exactly the opposite, clean and attractive, and strong, and fine to look upon

Gwen, you goose You’re to meet your betrothed on the er He was not really going to fall in love with her, and he was not going to take her to his hilltop castle, as sweet as the fantasy was

“How pretty you are,” he said, as his charcoal scratched over the paper “You have remarkable eyes”

“They are like my mother’s”

“She must be a beautiful woman”

“She isbeautiful” Gwen had alht, there is no need for truth here If he was only traveling through the area, he couldn’t know she was Miss Guinevere Vaughn, daughter of a Welsh baron, especially with the way she was dressed She could be a village girl who could be na, and who could have a beautiful mother who still lived “What is your name?” she asked, partly because she wished to know the name of this handsomest of all men, and partly so she could make up a name of her own

“I’m called Jack,” he said “And you?”

“Rose,” she said proudly She had always loved simple flower names, probably because she’d been na and cumbersome

“Ah, a fitting name for a lady in bloom It’s very nice to meet you, Rose,” said the man “Please sit still”

Again, she heard that resonance of authority in his voice She supposed he must be very serious about his art She studied hi at his book He drew very confidently, as if it were easy for hie to be scrutinized so closely by someone—especially someone so blatantly virile She tried not to blush and flutter when their eyes met

“Have you a sweetheart, Rose?” he asked the next tiirl like you has“You are already wed to some fortunate fellow?”

“No,” she said, feeling embarrassed that she had neither suitor nor husband Then she re courted by a wonderful young ood a name as any