Ours. There was something indescribably beautiful about that word. Harriet tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He was so beautiful. And for this one precious moment, he was hers.

She knew as certainly as she stood before him, her fingers threaded through the ribbon that held her gown closed, that this moment was ephemeral, as substantial as the golden dust motes that trickled through the air and disappeared once they floated out of the light.

Her gaze dropped to her hand where the talisman ring glistened, a silver stripe across one finger. Harriet knew the day would come when Chase St. John, the arrogant scion of a wealthy family—perhaps one of the wealthiest in the land, would discard his Captain John Frakenham disguise forever and rejoin the real world—his world. A world that had nothing to do with Harriet or the Wards, or Garrett Park.

But it didn’t matter, she decided, closing her hand tight about the ribbon, the ring pressing into her skin. All that mattered was him, the feel of him, the taste of him. Harriet tugged the ribbon and her gown loosened. She slipped it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then stepped out of it.

Chase had never seen anything so beautiful. Harriet stood in the center of the barn, clothed only in her shift. It was a plain shift, with far fewer buttons and ribbons than Chase was used to seeing. The material was thin, but as was all the clothing worn by the Ward family, it was neat, tidy, studiously clean, and in this instance, driving Chase St. John wild with impatience.

There was something masterful about the way the fabric hugged Harriet’s slender body. It clung lovingly to the gentle slope of her breast, fell in delicate folds to her flat stomach, then smoothed across her hips before falling to a narrow froth of white lace at her knees.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed. “So beautiful.”

In answer, she placed her hands on his chest and tilted her face to his, stepping closer. Her hair curled wetly about her shoulders and clung to the shadowed hollows of her neck. The warmth from her palms sent a tingle of heat through him, the hot white band where the talisman ring rested seeming to burn a mark in his skin.

Chase reached for her, his heart racing. He would never remember unlacing her shift. Or taking it off and tossing it aside. All he would remember was the feel of her beneath him when he joined her on the blanket. She reached up and pulled his mouth to hers even as she locked her legs about his hips.

Chase was lost, awash in instant heat and welcoming wetness. He closed his eyes, his entire body aflame, his muscles tightening as he moved inside her. Harriet was made for him. The thought was both a revelation and a calm, orderly fact. An icy certainty in a heated moment that cooled and calmed even as it invigorated his spirit, fueled his pounding pulse.