The Vicar's Widow

“How lovely,” Kate murmured and sipped her wine, felt a warm glow from it and the knowledge that the handsome man sitting across from her had gone to so much trouble on the slim chance that she might agree to his insanity.

It was beyond her ability to comprehend, really. A wealthy viscount, a vicar’s widow . . . it was scarcely the sort of affair that the Morning Times alluded to among the ton. Men of Montgomery’s stature attracted any number of women—in fact, she’d read such speculation about him on more than one occasion. But he had been steadfast in his pursuit of her, and at the moment, she hardly cared of his motives. The butterflies he always seemed to put in her belly had somehow expanded into an entire aviary of wings beating away inside her, making her feel giddy with wild excitement.

It felt as if she had scarcely sipped her wine when the coach came to a halt. She detected the pungent scent of fish and heard the voices of several men.

“Where are we?” she asked.

Montgomery smiled enigmatically. “At the river’s edge,” he said as the door swung open. “We’re to take a short journey upstream,” he added and disappeared through the open door, then extended his hand to help her down.

Kate didn’t know precisely where on the Thames they had come to. They hurried across a rain-slicked dock to a waiting barge. In the middle of the barge was a large, box-shaped enclosure. Three boatmen were on board, two with oars in hand, and another at the rudder. A fourth waited patiently on the dock, next to a thick rope that anchored the barge to the dock.

“Mind your step,” Montgomery warned her and hopped onto the barge, then caught her by the waist, lifted her off the dock, and swung her down onto the barge. With a boyish smile, he grabbed her hand, pulled her into the boxed enclosure.

She made a sound of surprise as she ducked and entered the enclosure. The small area was furnished with thick brocade pillows. The walls were velvet, and two tiny portholes graced each side. There were candles in the sconces, a basket at the opening, and rose petals everywhere. Everywhere. They covered the cushions, the blankets, the baskets.

Kate was so awed by the sight of it that she scarcely noticed Montgomery was helping her in, seating her on a pile of cushions next to the porthole. He covered her with a blanket, then took his place next to her. From their vantage point, they had a view of the river as they headed upstream.

Water lapped gently at the sides of the barge as the boatmen made the final preparations to launch in the thick rain and mist. Kate watched them move back and forth before the enclosure until the barge glided away from the dock and started upriver. Then she shifted her smiling gaze to Montgomery.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at her soft smile. “Ah, I expected as much,” he said and reached for the basket, his arm brushing carelessly against her as if they were quite accustomed to one another.

He placed the basket on his lap. “I should not expect you to ride very far without some sustenance,” he said as he unfolded the linen cloth in the basket. It was filled with tiny sweet biscuits of various shapes and varieties. “What would you like?”

Kate leaned forward, glanced at the biscuits in his lap, then lifted her gaze. “What would you suggest?”

With a low laugh in his throat, Montgomery put aside the biscuits and put his hand on her neck. “I would suggest,” he said, leaning closer, “this.” He pulled her to him, kissed her soft and wet as they floated into a thickening mist.

Neither of them noticed.





They kissed, ate biscuits, and kissed again until the barge bumped up against a pier sometime later. Darien lazily lifted his head and leaned to one side, peering at the porthole to have a look, and turned a beaming smile to Kate.

She was turned to one side, lying against the cushions. A part of a rose petal had adhered itself to her cheek, and another was tangled in her hair, which had come quite undone. Her lips were slightly swollen and glisteningly moist. Through half-closed eyes, she smiled dreamily at him. “Where are we?”

“You must come have a look for yourself.” He helped her up; Kate leaned across his lap and looked out. Her brow puckered slightly as she tried to make out where they were. “It’s a boathouse.”

“That it is.” But it wasn’t just any boathouse. It was the grand old boathouse on his uncle’s estate. His uncle, who was well past his eightieth year, neither cared nor noticed that his nephew was borrowing the boathouse for the afternoon.

Darien had sent his butler Kiefer this morning to arrange it all. The boathouse had a pair of doors that opened up to the river, so that boats could be launched from an enclosed dock.

“Oh my,” Kate whispered, taking in the grassy slope of lawn that stretched from the water’s edge up to his uncle’s magnificent estate. “It looks like something from a picture book.”