Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

He swallowed. “I’ll do anything for you, Lucy. I’ll give you whatever you wish. Let me take care of you. Let me buy you things. Ask me anything else, but don’t ask this.”


“But this is all I want.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “This is all I need. And I’m scared, too, because I need it so much. I don’t need you to say it back, not now. But I need you to hear it, and believe it, and be strong enough to bear it.”

She would never know how long they stood there, gazes locked. Moments. Minutes. Perhaps hours.

But Lucy wouldn’t back down, and she wouldn’t release him. She held his shoulders and held his gaze. Until, at last, he drew in a slow breath and heaved a rough sigh. She felt his muscled shoulders roll under her hands, as though shrugging off a heavy weight. Strong hands reached out to encircle her waist. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. And it was a fortunate thing that he held her waist tight, because her knees buckled the instant those brilliant blue eyes met hers.

Now this … this was a Look. One even Lucy could not ignore. With all the force that his usual glare demanded distance, this Look reached into her heart and pulled, tugging her close.

Then his jaw softened, and his lips parted, and his deep voice echoed what his gaze already said. Three little words that set Lucy’s heart pounding and her blood singing with joy.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Jeremy.”

He still felt it, that wince of doubt. The urge to push her away. She said it so simply. As though there was nothing easier, more natural in the world. The words themselves hung in the air, so tiny, so bare. Jeremy felt as though she’d thrust a frail, delicate, birdlike thing into his big, clumsy hands, charging him to keep it safe. And God forgive him, his first impulse was to shove it away. He would destroy it, surely. In his desperation, he would grasp it so tightly it would break into a thousand pieces—and his own heart would break along with it.

But then she smiled at him, so sweetly. Her cheeks dimpled with that infectious, impish joy, and he knew he could never push her away. Not her, not her love. He would prove to her—and prove to himself—he could be strong enough. He would be the man she believed him to be. He could cradle that frail, delicate love in his hands and guard her heart as though it were his own.

Because, in truth, they were one and the same.

Jeremy gathered her to his chest, pulling her heart against his. But something came between them. A lumpy weight knocked against his chest.

The necklace.

He let go of her waist and reached into his breast pocket to draw out the chain of jewels. In the firelight, the rubies glowed like hot coals.

“I know you don’t need this,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

“But I want you to have it.” He brushed her hair from her neck. “May I?”

She nodded slightly, lifting her hair to one side. He fastened the necklace around her neck, trailing his fingers along the delicate curve of her throat.

“Well?” she whispered, rolling the jeweled chain under her fingertips. “How do they look?”

“They look … jealous.”

She laughed. It was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. “I didn’t know jewels could be jealous.”

He nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. They’re most certainly jealous. Jealous of you. And furious with me, for fastening them about a neck so beautiful. They feel like dull, misshapen rocks hanging there.”

She laughed again. “Jeremy, please. I thought gentlemen bought ladies jewels so they could forgo the pretty phrases.”

He grasped her waist again, pulling her close against him. “Pretty phrases be damned,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful, Lucy. And there’s no jewel or phrase pretty enough to do you justice.”

And there were no gifts, no words extravagant enough to tell her how much he loved her. He would have to show her instead. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day for the rest of his life. She felt so delicious, pressed up against him, and he was already longing to taste her. Pretty phrases be damned. He would put his lips to better use.

Her own lips curved in a wicked smile, as though she read his thoughts. He gazed down at her, watching her smile spread slowly across her face and all the way up to her laughing green eyes. “Aren’t you going to kiss me now?”

He lowered his lips almost to hers, until there was nothing between them but breath. “Yes, I am going to kiss you now. I’m going to kiss you long, and slow, and deep. I’m going to kiss you all night long, and into tomorrow, and every last day that God gives me beside you.”