Nory cut through a gap between the stables and crossed a field where heavy-coated sheep eyed her suspiciously. She climbed over a stile and let herself in through a wooden gate that led to a section of the gardens not open to the public. Here were glasshouses and polytunnels, and tool sheds both wooden and brick built. A network of vegetable patches and raised beds—where most of the produce for the castle was grown—ran along either side of a long path.

Most of Nory’s serious relationships had been measured, sensible choices: men she’d thought her dad might approve of—though of course he never did. Even her throwaway flings tended to be disappointing on the passion front. Was she really so hard to please? Was it too much to ask to find a man who could give her better orgasms than she could give herself?

She was still thinking about orgasms when she caught sight of Isaac. He was piling garden trimmings into one of several large wooden compost bins. His discarded zip fleece hung on a fence post, and he worked in just a T-shirt, despite the cold. Nory slowed her pace so she could watch him before he caught sight of her. Lord, but he was good-looking! The muscles in his arms flexed as he reached down into a wheelbarrow and scooped up another load. Andrew was right, I am turning into Lady Chatterley! At that moment, Isaac looked up and saw her. Nory smiled and waved as though she’d only just arrived and had not been perving over him.

Isaac smiled at her, his dark eyes glinting as her cheeks flushed. There hadn’t been time to discuss their impromptu kiss earlier. When Isaac had dropped Guy—somewhat roughly—into his room, he had left straightaway to speak to the marquis.

Suddenly Nory didn’t know what to say.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked.

“Yes. Yes, thank you, I’m fine. How about you?”

“Good.”

“Good, then. Excellent.”

“I’m sorry I left in such a hurry . . .”

“Gosh, no, don’t be, I completely understand. I’m sorry about the things Guy said to you, about all of it, really.”

Isaac frowned and cocked his head to one side. “Why are you apologizing for him?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying that I’m sorry on my own behalf, that you had a shitty morning.”

“You didn’t make it shitty.”

Isaac turned his dark brown eyes on her, and her hand automatically went to her mouth. The pads of her fingers brushed her lips, remembering where his mouth had been earlier, the heat in his kiss, the way he had held her so tightly . . . She blinked and tried to bring herself back to the present.

“No, but Guy did. Make it shitty, I mean.”

“I thought you weren’t apologizing for him.”