Loving a Lost Lord by Mary Jo Putney Page A

tiptoed into his bedroom and found him sprawled across the bed on his back. He’d peeled off his boots and coat but still wore his shirt and breeches. He was a fine figure of a man who fulfilled the gentlemanly ideal of fit, well-proportioned elegance. Was he a gentleman by birth? She wasn’t sure, but he had become one.
    Thinking she’d let him sleep if he didn’t wake easily, she whispered, “Adam? How are you feeling?”
    He woke and gave her a smile that made her feel like the most special woman in the world. “I could manage a ride around the estate.”
    She studied him, his visible bruises reminding her of all the ones that weren’t visible. He had taken quite a beating. “Let’s wait till tomorrow for the tour. Better not push yourself too hard.”
    â€œThen I need to find a different physical activity.” He caught her hand and tugged her down so that she was alongside him on the bed. Gaze intense, he said, “I wish I remembered our first kiss. I shall have to start all over.”
    Before she had fully grasped his intent, he drew her down and kissed her. His mouth was firm and warm, his tongue gentle as it parted her lips.
    Sensation flooded through her, scrambling her wits and judgment. She had been kissed by earnest young men, and more than once had fought off drunks like Burke, but she’d never experienced a kiss like this. She felt his wonder and delight, as if they were new lovers, yet she also sensed commitment and his belief that they had a history. That they belonged to each other.
    She gasped as his caressing hands moved down her back, honoring every curve and hollow. Where their bodies touched, she burned. She wanted to melt into him, kiss until they were both senseless.
    His right hand slid under her gown and moved up her bare thigh, as shocking as it was seductive. She jerked away from his embrace, her heart pounding. Somewhere inside, her Sarah self was saying, “This is your own fault.”
    Mariah couldn’t deny it. If they continued on this path, she would lose her virginity and possibly entice Adam into adultery. She should run screaming from this impossible situation.
    He stared up at her flushed face, puzzled and a little hurt. “What’s wrong, Mariah?”
    Briefly she thought of confessing, but she couldn’t bear the thought of cutting him loose from what little certainty he had. She struggled for an answer that would put more distance between them while also having some honesty.
    â€œI’m sorry, Adam.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, unable to think clearly in his arms. “This is too…too sudden for me. We’ve had so little time together, and now I am a stranger to you.”
    â€œA beloved stranger,” he said quietly. “And surely I’m not a stranger to you. Or have I changed greatly?”
    She shivered, wondering if his feelings were for his real wife and Mariah was merely a convenient substitute. Remembering what she’d said to Mrs. Beckett, she said, “It’s not that you have changed, but that the situation itself is so strange. Will you court me as if we just met? We can discover each other anew.” She took his hand. “Your memory could return at any time, of course, and that will simplify everything. But until that happens, can we begin again?”
    He hesitated, and she guessed that he would prefer to get to know her in a more biblical way. But then he smiled and raised their joined hands, kissing her fingertips. “What a wise idea. Miss Clarke, you are the loveliest creature I have ever met. Will you join me for a walk in the garden?”
    â€œI should like that very much, Mr. Clarke,” she said with relief. “We can admire the daffodils and each other.”
    He laughed and swung his legs to the floor. He reached for his boots. “I hope you are enthralled by bruises and whiskers. I’m not sure myself what I look