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Georgine hadn’t indulged in a raspberry ice since before their mother died.

Regina looked so hopeful that Georgine hesitated before uttering the no that sprang to her lips. Neither Regina nor Matilda had ventured out since the wedding either.

“I think that’s a marvelous idea. I shall accompany you. I would rather enjoy an orange ice.” Grinning, Robyn shoved a lock of hair off his forehead. “We shall present a united front, and if anyone dares to give us the gimlet eye, we shall cock a snook at them, one and all.”

Brave words.

He put his thumb to his nose in a comical gesture.

“What say you, Georgine?” His expression softened. “We shan’t go if you do not feel up to it.”

Georgine glanced at her sister.

Regina’s big, pleading eyes tore at her resolve.

Half child, half young woman, Regina needed the outing. Georgine couldn’t keep her hidden away at Fernleigh forever. At some point, they must venture out and face the wagging tongues and pointed glances.

Lifting her chin, Georgine nodded. “I need new stockings, and in this heat, Gunter’s would be a treat indeed.”

She had plenty of mended stockings, but a new pair wouldn’t go amiss for a special occasion.

“That’s my brave darling.” Approval radiated from Robyn’s eyes. Then, to her utter astonishment, he brushed a kiss across her lips, right in front of her sister.

And Georgine couldn’t summon a scold for his impertinence, for her lips glowed hot from his touch.

Regina giggled. “I shall inform Matilda.”

About the kiss?

No, ninny. About the outing.

With a flip of her wrist, Regina skipped away, calling in a sing-song voice, “Don’t be long, you love birds.”

The faint mist from the fountain cooled Georgine’s hot cheeks.

Robyn stood close enough that the warmth of his nearness seeped through her gown. For weeks, they had spoken with careful politeness, their rare touches only the brush of fingers or the fleeting press of his lips on her forehead in a restrained farewell.

But now his scorching gaze held hers, steady and searching, as though weighing some silent question. The garden remained oddly still, save for the fountain’s gentle splash of water and the rustle of leaves stirred by a soft morning breeze. A thrush trilled somewhere in the hedges, its song bright and unguarded, and Georgine’s pulse beat in time with it.

Reluctant to break the spell, she slowly pivoted to return to the house. “I should go in too.”

“Not before I kiss my wife in the manner she deserves.”

When Robyn bent toward her, she told herself it would be another brief caress, no different from before. He looped a muscular arm around Georgine’s waist, taking the utmost care not to bump her injured arm. With his other hand, he lifted her chin.

The moment his mouth found hers, all such expectations dissolved.

He moved his lips over hers with a tender insistence, deepening the kiss until the fountain’s murmur, the bird’s song, even the flowers’ fragrance surrounding them faded, until there was only Robyn and her.

Heat unfurled within Georgine, curling low and sweet, each breath drawn against his mouth sending a shiver through her. She wrapped her fingers around his lapel, seeking an anchor as the world narrowed to the sure, unhurried passion of his embrace—and the wonder that, at last, she had stopped wishing for his kiss and now experienced it.

And deep within her, Georgine knew her life had irrevocably taken another turn.