pursuing interests outside of the home, but a part of her deeply missed other forms of companionship.
Were there ever second chances for a widowed woman in her fifties? When she glanced one last time at Mr. Hunt before climbing into her coach, she couldn’t help but wonder.
8
Lydia was surprised that she had managed to sleep at all in the jostling coach after what had happened between her and Brodie. When a particularly hard bump in the road jostled her awake, she found that Brodie had wrapped her in his coat. The enticing scent of man and woods drifted up from the heavy dark-blue fabric.
She shifted beneath it, testing her injured wrist. It felt stiff but no longer painful. That was a small relief. The last thing she needed was to be hurt while traveling so far from her family. And after what had happened a few hours ago, she would need every bit of strength to deal with Brodie. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful that Mr. Lennox chose to ride on top of the coach with the servants, leaving her alone with Brodie, or if it would be worse to have him inside the coach, watching Brodie seduce her. She was quite certain Brodie wouldn’t mind letting a rake like Lennox watch him kiss her.
She trembled as she remembered how Brodie’s commanding mouth and wicked hands had set her body on fire. She’d been afraid—not of him, but what he made her feel. He’d sent riots of wild, frightening pleasure through her. All he’d had to do was touch her and she’d practically exploded.
Lydia had touched herself between her legs once or twice, during bathing, but she’d always been confused and a little scared of the sensations those few brief touches had given her.
Yet Brodie had boldly explored her and seemed to know just where and how to caress her to make that excitement build and finally create a wild release that had made her scream, though he had dampened much of her cries with that kiss. It was likely that Rafe and the valets riding outside on the top of the coach would have heard her, and her face burned with mortification that she had indeed begged him to touch her.
At least she had convinced Brodie to agree to a few rules when it came to his treatment of her, though he had danced around actually saying yes to her rules during their discussion. Still, she was confident—or hopeful, at any rate—that he would see fit to treat her with some modicum of respect and provide her with some necessities while she belonged to him.
Lord, the word belong seemed to carry such a weight to it now, a sensual promise that worried her as much as it excited her.
Peeping at Brodie from beneath her lashes, she tried to imagine what life as a mistress would be like, and more importantly, what her life would be like afterward. Once he became bored with her and she returned home in disgrace, what then? It was a good thing she liked the countryside, seeing as how she would likely be relegated to a quiet life in some quaint cottage after her father had married Portia to whatever man she desired next.
“I can hear you thinking, lass.” Brodie’s voice rumbled as he stirred in the corner of the coach opposite her. He stretched out his long, lean, muscled legs toward her, his booted feet nestled beneath the shelter of her skirts, touching her own. It was an oddly intimate thing for two veritable strangers. Their feet touching under the concealment of her clothing. It made her aware of every little move he made as he shifted in his seat from time to time to become more comfortable.
“Are we to stop soon?” She pushed back one of the curtains on the carriage windows. The green landscape was dark with shadows. “The sun is setting.”
“Aye, soon,” Brodie replied as he continued to watch her with an unsettling half smile.
“You really must stop looking at me like that, Mr. Kincade,” she warned.
He gave her a full smile now. “Like what?”
“Like you are thinking of terrible, wicked things.”
“I hate to tell you this, lass, but I am a terrible, wicked man. It is in my nature to think of such things.”
“Oh!” she huffed. “Your brothers did not seem so uncouth as you when I met them.” She hadn’t realized until she discovered Brodie’s identity that she had glimpsed Brock and Aiden once at a ball,