Free Lord Will & Her Grace by Sophia Nash Page A

strained against his shirt. And
the muscles in his long legs… well, they were straining too. Sophie
forced herself to look at the water. She dragged her hand alongside
the boat to cool herself.
    " Chérie , the sun is blazing. Really,
you should remove that heavy coat," he said.
    "I'm perfectly comfortable, my lord."
    "You're afraid to show me your pantaloons,
then. There's no need to be embarrassed. I'm well familiar with
your female form already and you've nothing to fear from me. Truly,
I've your best interests at heart." He sported a poorly disguised
sly grin.
    Wretched man. "Why am I not surprised by your
lamentable lack of talent in putting a lady at ease?"
    He laughed.
    The heat and humidity was causing William's
lawn shirt to stick to the contours of his broadly muscled chest.
All at once she was dizzy. Perhaps it was the heat, more likely it
was the sudden remembrance of his chiseled, steaming form, naked
from the bath.
    In disgust, she took off her coat. "Ah, chérie , that's much better. And it also serves to increase
my desire—"
    She inhaled sharply.
    "—to finish the job of rowing to the cove."
He winked at her. "If I really wanted to embarrass you, I'd tell
you that you look like the goddess Diana the Huntress in those
delightfully snug pantaloons."
    Sophie couldn't think of a single way to lead
him off the topic and sincerely hoped silence would do the
trick.
    He'd put a good deal of distance between them
and the shore and finally they were within a few oar strokes of the
cove.
    "Do you know if the fishing is good here?"
she asked.
    "I have the port master's word on it," he
replied. "It also has the added benefit of being secluded. And I'm
in need of a private audience with you."
    What ?
    "I beg your pardon?" What was he about? Oh,
why couldn't he be serious and refrain from ridiculous
innuendo?
    "Patience, chérie , patience."
    He stopped rowing suddenly. They drifted
among the small swells, wavelets lapping against the sides of the
little boat.
    She reached for one of the fishing rods.
    "No, you must hear me out now, my darling,
for I've something of importance to tell you. Then you shall have
your day of fishing, if you desire it still." His lips curved into
the familiar devastating smile.
    Sophie shivered. My darling ?
    And then Lord Will leaned forward to grasp
her hands in his own. They were warm and very solid.
    "Sophie, darling," he murmured. "Surely, you
have guessed that I've become… fond of you?"
    At the use of her given name, a flutter of
excitement shook her. He was playing a game, trying to make her
laugh.
    "You are deliciously refreshing," he
continued. "Truly a lady different in almost every respect from
other females I've known. Your goodness, indeed, your character,
and your courage and honesty intrigue me."
    Sophie finally dared look him full in the
face again. His deep voice, and heavy-lidded eyes resonated her
senses.
    "In fact"—he arched an eyebrow—"I do believe,
I'm fall— No, I cannot say such romantic nonsense in daylight. And
I doubt an impassioned, overused sentiment will make you swoon into
my arms." He lowered his voice. "You shall just have to wait to
hear it under the covers." His dimples appeared alongside his
dazzling white smile and he winked.
    What ?
    Lord William tilted his head and waited. "I
do believe this is the part where you're supposed to throw your
arms about me and declare your undying love in return, chérie ," he said. "But I suppose it's too much to ask in
this unsteady vessel."
    Surely, she imagined what he'd just said. His
lips had moved, but he couldn't have implied he was in love with
her. Her body grew cold despite the sun.
    "Perhaps," he continued, "you're convinced my
character is so beyond salvation that I'm proposing marriage in an
attempt to win our little wager? Chérie , I would be more
than willing to wear fisherman's rags in Hyde Park for at the
least, let's say, a week—although I hope you would take pity before
that—if you do me the