Elisabeth Kidd by The Rival Earls Page A

course. I think I prefer to take advantage of my invalid state a little longer.”
    He returned her smile. “I should mention, by the way, that Rose offered to chaperone us on this venture, but I assured her that I could be trusted. Of course, if you…?”
    Sabina laughed and shook her head. He picked up a blanket before leading her across the gangplank and a few steps up the towpath. Then they turned off the path at an angle up a slight rise, James protectively on Sabina’s downhill side in case her footsteps were as yet unsteady. She put her hand through his arm, as if to lean on him. She did not really need the support, but she liked the feel of his strong arm holding her and wanted to retain for a little longer that novel sensation of fragility and being looked after.
    When they reached the top of the rise, a charming view of the Avon valley spread itself before them. In the distance, the water of the canal glinted in the sun, but otherwise there was no sign of human habitation. James stopped beneath an oak tree just coming into its summer fullness of leaf, and spread the blanket on the grass. Sabina pulled off her hat and flung it on the ground, but remained standing a moment longer, her gaze drinking in the peaceful view. Then she turned and caught him looking at her, a longing yet wistful expression in his blue eyes.
    “It’s as if—as if we are the only two people in the world,” she said, sinking down onto the blanket beside him.
    “I wish we were,” he said softly. He leaned across the hamper and took her face in his hands.
    “Perhaps we should have brought a dueña ,” he whispered. His mouth moved closer to hers and she waited breathlessly for his kiss. But then he only touched her lips lightly, teasingly, and pulled away again. Disappointed, she opened her eyes and found him unpacking the hamper.
    “I’m starved,” he said, not looking at her now. “What about you, Miranda?”
    “I don’t think I’ve stopped eating since I met Rose, but everything she makes is so delicious that I can’t resist it.” She laughed, trying to match his mood, and patted her waist. “I daresay I’ve put on inches. I shall never get into my own clothes again.”
    That was the wrong thing to say, for it reminded him of the world they were trying to forget for today. His face closed down, and she felt he had somehow moved even farther away from her. This was not what she had intended—somehow she must make him forget everything but her!
    She said little as he spread the feast between them on the blanket and they devoured the bread and cheese, cold chicken and meat pies, and fruit compote that Rose had packed. When they had finished, James poured a cup of cider for her and then lay back on the blanket and closed his eyes.
    She gazed at him for a long time after his steady breathing told her he had fallen asleep. She was not offended by his doing so in her presence, for she liked the idea that he was as comfortable with her as this. She wished it could be this way after he learned who she was, but she feared it could not be. What would he think of her? Would he be angry at her deception? Would the difference in their stations be, after all, the stumbling block? Would he regret the necessity of their parting or be relieved to be rid of necessity to make a decision about their future?
    A radical notion came to her suddenly. What if they need not part? If she refused to honor her father’s wishes and marry Robert Ashton, she would be left penniless—well, nearly so, in comparison to her previous comforts—and more nearly a match for James Owen, lockkeeper. He was certainly a well-schooled and well-dressed lockkeeper. Or would her name still be an obstacle? Peter Ogilvey had not been a peer’s son, after all, and no one had objected to that match. She imagined herself living on her own narrowboat or in a lockkeeper’s cottage—she must ask him to show her his—and for a moment, the world did indeed go away and she