was still dancing with Thomas and was laughing at something his son was saying. The lights strung around the lawn lit up her features like a Raphael Madonna.
His chest tightened and he stumbled a little, missing her already.
“She is delightful,” Margaret said softly, following his gaze.
“Yes. I agree.” Ian did his best to keep any emotion out of his voice and expression, though he had a feeling it would do him no good. His mother always had an uncanny knack for mind reading, often before he had figured out his own thoughts.
“What are your plans after next week?” Margaret asked, giving him a searching look. “I assume you’ll stay in touch with her.”
Yes, his mother knew him entirely too well. What could she see in his expression? Could she tell he was in love with Samantha?
He stopped dancing altogether as the truth of it poured over him like water gushing from Bridal Veil Falls.
Love.
He couldn’t be in love. He had only known her a few short weeks. Infatuation, maybe. Certainly lust. But love?
The more he thought of it, though, the more he realized that was the only possible explanation for everything in his heart and his mind. This tenderness was far more than infatuation and lust.
He was in love with her.
Somehow during his short time in Haven Point, Samantha Fremont had become infinitely dear to him.
He loved her smile, her talent, the sweetness she showed his children. He had come to cherish a hundred things about her.
The realization should have filled him with joy. Instead, he ached at the impossibility of it.
“After next week, the children and I are packing up the Oxford place and moving to Summerhill, where I plan to throw myself into helping Father and learning everything there is to know about the earldom.”
A twinge of pain tightened her features and he regretted his flat tone immediately. His parents knew well that he had never wanted to be heir. He didn’t need to remind them of it, like a petulant child who couldn’t have the toy he wanted in the market.
“What about Samantha?” his mother pressed.
Something else he couldn’t have. “What about her?” he asked, this time careful to keep his expression free of the torment stirring beneath the surface.
“Are you making plans to visit her again? I’ve heard fall is a beautiful time here at the lake. Or will you invite her to visit Dorset once you’re settled?”
He could clearly picture how wonderful either of those things might be. He would love to show her the river Amherst, his childhood swimming hole, the picturesque village near the estate that reminded him a great deal of Haven Point.
He could imagine showing her the kissing bridge over the stream at Summerhill, the Roman ruins nearby, the hills he and David used to hike.
He also knew he could do none of those things.
“What would be the point?” he asked, his voice brusque.
She stared at him, clearly astonished at his tone and his words. “The point? The point is she’s a wonderful woman. You have feelings for her and should see where they lead.”
He didn’t want to talk about this right now and certainly not with his mother. He wanted to go somewhere alone, somewhere near the water, where he could try to process the tumultuous shock of realizing he loved a woman he could never have.
Short of abandoning his mother on the dance floor, he couldn’t see a way to avoid the conversation, especially when Margaret’s face was twelve inches away from his and she was holding him tightly.
“My feelings, such as they are, won’t lead anywhere because I don’t intend to act on them,” he answered, his voice low but firm.
She angled her head, studying him so intently he finally had to look away from her scrutiny. After a long moment, she sighed. “I am your mother and love you more than words. But I think it’s fair to say there are times I don’t understand you in the slightest. This is one of them.”
“Because I don’t see the point in causing inevitable pain in two people by pursuing something with no possible future?”
She stared at him. “No possible future? Why ever not?”
“Samantha and I have completely different lives separated by five thousand miles. There’s no way to reconcile that. I see no point in dragging things out, prolonging the inevitable.”
“Nothing is inevitable except that we’re all going to leave this life at some point.”
“I’ve been through this once, Mother. You know what a disaster I made of