“I’m proving to be a nuisance, aren’t I, Nigel? First, I weep on you for over an hour, then I nearly topple you down the hill, and now I’m making matters even more awkward. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”
 
“You are not making me uncomfortable.” God help him. His own inclinations did quite well on their own. Just sitting beside her, sharing their warmth, tempted him.
 
“You don’t have to say that. I’ll allow I’ve relied on you inappropriately for most of this journey.” Her voice sounded throaty, most unlike the Mrs. Mossant he’d come to know in London. “You’re likely wishing me to perdition.” Her hand rested on his chest.
She was making this impossible for him.
 
“You are my employer, a woman all too recently widowed. It would be unfair, unethical of me...” He stared straight ahead and surveyed the clouds. The storm had picked up strength along with their own barrage of emotions.
 
“Oh, Nigel If you only knew.”