Arthur and his friends.
As Marcus guided the Bowman sisters through the late-summer garden, he was annoyed by the way Lillian kept sidling ahead of him. She seemed physically incapable of following his lead. Marcus glanced at her covertly, taking note of the way her legs moved beneath the light muslin walking dress. Her stride Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
was long and loose-limbed, unlike the practiced feminine sway that most women affected.
Silently Marcus reflected on his inexplicable reaction to her during the rounders game. As he had watched her, the vivid enjoyment in her expression had been completely irresistible. She had a coltish energy and an enthusiasm for physical activity that seemed to rival his own. It was not at all fashionable for young women in her position to exhibit such robust health and spirits. They were supposed to be shy and modest and restrained. But Lillian had been too compelling for him to ignore, and before he had quite known what was happening, he had joined the game.
The sight of her, so flushed and excited, had stirred up a few sensations that he would rather not have felt. She was prettier than he had remembered, and so entertaining in her prickly stubbornness that he had been unable to resist the challenge she presented. And at the moment when he had stood behind her and adjusted her swing, and felt her body press along his front, he had been keenly aware of a primal urge to drag her to some private place, flip up her skirts, and—
Forcing the thoughts away with a quiet sound of discomfort, he watched as Lillian strode ahead of him once more. She was filthy, her hair was tangled …and for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about what it had felt like to lie on the ground with her straddling him. She had been very light. Despite her height, she was a slender girl without much in the way of womanly curves. Not at all his preferred style.
But he had wanted very much to catch her waist in his hands, and grind her hips down on his, and—
“This way,” he said gruffly, shouldering past Lillian Bowman and keeping to the hedges and walls that concealed them from view of the house. He led the sisters beside paths lined with blue spires of salvia, ancient walls covered with red roses and brilliant puffs of hydrangea, and massive stone urns bursting with white violas.
“Are you certain that this is a shortcut?” Lillian asked. “I think the other way would have been much faster.”
Unaccustomed to having his decisions questioned, Marcus shot her a cool glance as she came up beside him. “I know the way through my own estate gardens, Miss Bowman.”
“Don’t mind my sister, Lord Westcliff,” Daisy said from behind them. “It’s just that she’s worried about what will happen if we’re caught. We are supposed to be napping, you see. Mother locked us in our room, and then—”
“Daisy,” Lillian interrupted tersely, “the earl doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“On the contrary,” Marcus said, “I find myself quite interested in the question of how you managed to escape. The window?”
“No, I picked the lock,” Lillian replied.
Tucking the information in the back of his mind, Marcus asked mockingly, “Did they teach you how to do that in finishing school?”
“We didn’t attend finishing school,” Lillian said. “I taught myself how to pick locks. I’ve been on the wrong side of many a locked door since early childhood.”
“How surprising.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“I suppose you never did anything worth being punished for,” Lillian said.
“As a matter of fact, I was disciplined often. But I was seldom locked away. My father considered it far more expedient—and satisfying—to thrash me for my crimes.”
“He sounds like a brute,” Lillian remarked, and Daisy gasped behind them.
“Lillian, you should never speak ill of the dead.
As Marcus guided the Bowman sisters through the late-summer garden, he was annoyed by the way Lillian kept sidling ahead of him. She seemed physically incapable of following his lead. Marcus glanced at her covertly, taking note of the way her legs moved beneath the light muslin walking dress. Her stride Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
was long and loose-limbed, unlike the practiced feminine sway that most women affected.
Silently Marcus reflected on his inexplicable reaction to her during the rounders game. As he had watched her, the vivid enjoyment in her expression had been completely irresistible. She had a coltish energy and an enthusiasm for physical activity that seemed to rival his own. It was not at all fashionable for young women in her position to exhibit such robust health and spirits. They were supposed to be shy and modest and restrained. But Lillian had been too compelling for him to ignore, and before he had quite known what was happening, he had joined the game.
The sight of her, so flushed and excited, had stirred up a few sensations that he would rather not have felt. She was prettier than he had remembered, and so entertaining in her prickly stubbornness that he had been unable to resist the challenge she presented. And at the moment when he had stood behind her and adjusted her swing, and felt her body press along his front, he had been keenly aware of a primal urge to drag her to some private place, flip up her skirts, and—
Forcing the thoughts away with a quiet sound of discomfort, he watched as Lillian strode ahead of him once more. She was filthy, her hair was tangled …and for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about what it had felt like to lie on the ground with her straddling him. She had been very light. Despite her height, she was a slender girl without much in the way of womanly curves. Not at all his preferred style.
But he had wanted very much to catch her waist in his hands, and grind her hips down on his, and—
“This way,” he said gruffly, shouldering past Lillian Bowman and keeping to the hedges and walls that concealed them from view of the house. He led the sisters beside paths lined with blue spires of salvia, ancient walls covered with red roses and brilliant puffs of hydrangea, and massive stone urns bursting with white violas.
“Are you certain that this is a shortcut?” Lillian asked. “I think the other way would have been much faster.”
Unaccustomed to having his decisions questioned, Marcus shot her a cool glance as she came up beside him. “I know the way through my own estate gardens, Miss Bowman.”
“Don’t mind my sister, Lord Westcliff,” Daisy said from behind them. “It’s just that she’s worried about what will happen if we’re caught. We are supposed to be napping, you see. Mother locked us in our room, and then—”
“Daisy,” Lillian interrupted tersely, “the earl doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“On the contrary,” Marcus said, “I find myself quite interested in the question of how you managed to escape. The window?”
“No, I picked the lock,” Lillian replied.
Tucking the information in the back of his mind, Marcus asked mockingly, “Did they teach you how to do that in finishing school?”
“We didn’t attend finishing school,” Lillian said. “I taught myself how to pick locks. I’ve been on the wrong side of many a locked door since early childhood.”
“How surprising.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“I suppose you never did anything worth being punished for,” Lillian said.
“As a matter of fact, I was disciplined often. But I was seldom locked away. My father considered it far more expedient—and satisfying—to thrash me for my crimes.”
“He sounds like a brute,” Lillian remarked, and Daisy gasped behind them.
“Lillian, you should never speak ill of the dead.
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