were the simplest of concepts and one he should comprehend without need of explanation. “ ’Tis my duty to love you. Papa explained this when he informed me of our betrothal when I was fifteen.”
Hugh pulled his thoughts from his much-abused lower regions and gaped at her. “When you were fifteen?”
“Aye.” She nodded. “Papa told me when he made his will. He felt ’twas best to inform me that he had made some plans in that regard, and to tell me a bit about you so that I would get used to the idea and understand my duty.”
“I see,” Hugh said shortly. “And I suppose ’twas not important for me to know of these plans? What if I had married in the meantime?”
Much to his relief, she shrugged and turned forward again. “I presume he would have arranged for me to marry someone else.”
Hugh snorted. His uncle would have found it difficult to convince any other nobleman to marry the girl. No doubt his uncle had hoped Hugh would be so grateful to inherit Hillcrest and its estates that he would marry her out of gratitude. The old man had presumed too much.
Hugh, like most men of his station, had been pledged to a lady of equal standing while still in his infancy. It was just his bad luck that his own betrothed had died ere reaching marriageable age, else he would have been wed long ago. It was equally unfortunate that while she had died too young to have married him, she had also died after bad fortune had struck and his father had squandered what little wealth his family had possessed in his search for more. Those circumstances had made it difficult to arrange a second betrothal. Fate had changed matters, however. Hugh was now wealthier than he had ever hoped to be. He could not wait to be pursued by all those women who had let him know that his “circumstances” left him good for little more than stud service. Hugh would enjoy returning the insults they had thoughtlessly dished out over the years. He would turn them down, one and all, explaining that they were not virginal enough, as he was in a position to know firsthand.
The woman before him shifted again and Hugh sighed softly. She was a beautiful little bundle. Her smell was intoxicating, and the way she kept squirming against him was giving him ideas he just shouldn’t have when he did not plan on marrying her. Hugh almost wished she were a lady. He would have married her then. He would have draped her in silks and jewels to accent her glowing beauty, then paraded her at court to flaunt her before all those lords and ladies who had sneered at him over the years. He allowed this fantasy to fill his mind: Escorting her to the table to dine with the king before all of court, presenting her to him, dancing with her, sharing his wine goblet with her, hand-feeding her luscious bits of succulent food. Then he would escort her back to their room where he would strip off all the jewelry and silk, lay her on the bed and proceed to nibble and lick his way from her delicate toes to her—
“Are all saddles this lumpy, my lord?” The question drew Hugh from his daydream to the realization that she was shifting again in an effort to find some comfort. “There appears to be some great hard thing poking me just here.”
He felt something brush his thigh and glanced down. She was reaching between them, trying to find what was poking her. Hugh snatched at her hand with alarm and held it firmly.
“Er . . . saddles are not made for two,” he said in a voice that came out entirely too husky. Realizing that they were nearing the clearing where the cottage was nestled and that he had yet to finish this conversation to his satisfaction, Hugh drew his horse to a halt.
“What are you doing?” Willa asked him with surprise when he dismounted.
“As you find the saddle uncomfortable, I thought we might walk the last little distance,” he prevaricated. A glance over his shoulder showed that Lucan had paused a good distance back. He was waiting patiently.
“Oh.” Smiling uncertainly, Willa allowed him to help her to the ground.
Hugh dallied about the job of tying his mount to a tree as he tried to think how to proceed with this discussion. He had never been much of a