in a roast for you and your husband? They're on sale this week."
"I'm not married, so a roast would go to waste."
He flashed that smile again, revealing a tiny dimple. "Have you just moved to the village?"
"Yes, into the manor down the road, near the old castle." She took as long as possible digging for money in her purse.
He took her money. “I'm Jeremy Barnes, by the way," he said, wiping his hands on his apron before he made change.
Elinor self-consciously touched a fingertip to the mole by her upper lip. “Thank you, I'm Elinor Hawthorne." She managed to smile in what she hoped was a flirty way. "My friends call me Nora."
"Nice meeting you, Nora."
Elinor approached the car lost in thought, wondering if Jeremy would ask her out. Wouldn't it be too perfect if a hunk from the village turned out to be Mr. Right?
"You were gone a long time, longer than you said you'd be." The accusatory tone shook her out of her musings. The look he trained on her could freeze a lava flow. For a split second she felt a twinge of guilt as though she'd cheated on him. The reaction was too ridiculous to give any credence, so she didn't.
"Sorry for the wait. The butcher and I were chatting.”
Basil stared at the packages she hugged to her chest. "The butcher? Is there nowhere else you can purchase meat?"
"Probably, but why should I? I like this little shop." Elinor canted her head and studied Basil. He looked fierce and grim, and rather scary. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, everything's fine.”
He was lying. However, happy to let the topic go, she casually agreed, “If you say so,” and got into the car.
Chapter Ten
Elinor trailered Guardian over the day after workmen finished the split rail fence. He'd been stabled at a nice farm, but the facilities were shared with other boarders. Here, the pasture was lush, green, and all his. It took two weeks for delivery but finally, today, installation of the modular barn began.
The entire operation proceeded under the scrutiny of the knights, the framework established amidst much clucking and critical comments. Out of the crew’s view, they strutted from corner to corner, their whispers followed by an occasional hand or arm gesture. Fed up with their antics Elinor went back into the house.
She sat at the kitchen table paying bills while keeping track of the progress. The toes of black boots appeared by the table and into her line of sight as she moved an invoice aside. Elinor took a moment to prepare before looking up. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a feeling he wasn’t there to compliment the carpenters. Basil stepped closer, hands going to his hips. His normally well shaped mouth tightened into a harsh thin line. No intuition needed. He was in a snit, undoubtedly about the barn.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, sweet as pie.
"Elinor, think you those puny pieces of wood and paltry bits of metal are fit to hold a powerful beast?” he asked, casting a menacing glance at the workmen. “For surely, they are not. I understand there'll be no stone, but where is the oak? Where is the proper framework?"
She shifted in her chair to face him straight on. "Basil, I've seen many stables of similar material. This company puts these structures up all the time. They're more solid than they look, trust me."
He dropped to one knee, in front of her. His head tipped down just enough so his eyelashes looked like dark caterpillars against his cheek. His inky, blue-black hair fell forward, framing his face. Tempted, her fingers poised, wishing to touch its silkiness. Kneeling, with his head bowed, she imagined this was the position he'd take if he were about to propose. For one moment she lived the fantasy. Rise, Sir Knight, I accept your suit and would be most pleased to marry you.
Basil's expression softened as he raised his eyes to hers. "What do you think?"
The question brought her back to the present and the rude intrusion of reality. The fantasy of pretending Basil was proposing was
"I'm not married, so a roast would go to waste."
He flashed that smile again, revealing a tiny dimple. "Have you just moved to the village?"
"Yes, into the manor down the road, near the old castle." She took as long as possible digging for money in her purse.
He took her money. “I'm Jeremy Barnes, by the way," he said, wiping his hands on his apron before he made change.
Elinor self-consciously touched a fingertip to the mole by her upper lip. “Thank you, I'm Elinor Hawthorne." She managed to smile in what she hoped was a flirty way. "My friends call me Nora."
"Nice meeting you, Nora."
Elinor approached the car lost in thought, wondering if Jeremy would ask her out. Wouldn't it be too perfect if a hunk from the village turned out to be Mr. Right?
"You were gone a long time, longer than you said you'd be." The accusatory tone shook her out of her musings. The look he trained on her could freeze a lava flow. For a split second she felt a twinge of guilt as though she'd cheated on him. The reaction was too ridiculous to give any credence, so she didn't.
"Sorry for the wait. The butcher and I were chatting.”
Basil stared at the packages she hugged to her chest. "The butcher? Is there nowhere else you can purchase meat?"
"Probably, but why should I? I like this little shop." Elinor canted her head and studied Basil. He looked fierce and grim, and rather scary. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, everything's fine.”
He was lying. However, happy to let the topic go, she casually agreed, “If you say so,” and got into the car.
Chapter Ten
Elinor trailered Guardian over the day after workmen finished the split rail fence. He'd been stabled at a nice farm, but the facilities were shared with other boarders. Here, the pasture was lush, green, and all his. It took two weeks for delivery but finally, today, installation of the modular barn began.
The entire operation proceeded under the scrutiny of the knights, the framework established amidst much clucking and critical comments. Out of the crew’s view, they strutted from corner to corner, their whispers followed by an occasional hand or arm gesture. Fed up with their antics Elinor went back into the house.
She sat at the kitchen table paying bills while keeping track of the progress. The toes of black boots appeared by the table and into her line of sight as she moved an invoice aside. Elinor took a moment to prepare before looking up. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a feeling he wasn’t there to compliment the carpenters. Basil stepped closer, hands going to his hips. His normally well shaped mouth tightened into a harsh thin line. No intuition needed. He was in a snit, undoubtedly about the barn.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, sweet as pie.
"Elinor, think you those puny pieces of wood and paltry bits of metal are fit to hold a powerful beast?” he asked, casting a menacing glance at the workmen. “For surely, they are not. I understand there'll be no stone, but where is the oak? Where is the proper framework?"
She shifted in her chair to face him straight on. "Basil, I've seen many stables of similar material. This company puts these structures up all the time. They're more solid than they look, trust me."
He dropped to one knee, in front of her. His head tipped down just enough so his eyelashes looked like dark caterpillars against his cheek. His inky, blue-black hair fell forward, framing his face. Tempted, her fingers poised, wishing to touch its silkiness. Kneeling, with his head bowed, she imagined this was the position he'd take if he were about to propose. For one moment she lived the fantasy. Rise, Sir Knight, I accept your suit and would be most pleased to marry you.
Basil's expression softened as he raised his eyes to hers. "What do you think?"
The question brought her back to the present and the rude intrusion of reality. The fantasy of pretending Basil was proposing was
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