been. Surely you know that?”
She did. She felt an uncomfortable pang of remorse at using him and his steady devotion to duty as a means to her independence. Even if he’d been the one to suggest it. What had happened to him in the world to make him too open, too devoted for his own good?
“And you?” His eyes searched steadily even if his tone was light.
Certainly she was drawn to him as well. She thought him handsome, but with his strong forehead, clear eyes, high, well-formed cheekbones, and beautiful lips, so did anyone who had eyes. But she had always admired him for something more than mere good looks. For his openness and his mirth. For not being jaded by the inequities of the world. For the penetration of his gaze and for not hating her for what he saw in her.
Everything she might say would expose her. Lizzie looked away and laced her voice with studied, pert carelessness. “Because you promised me arable acres and a house. Where is it?”
He let her get away with her evasion. For now. He smiledwryly, one corner of his mouth tugging up, and nodded toward the coppice directly ahead. “Tucked down behind those trees.”
She moved away from him, urging her mount down the lane at a trot. The big, rangy Thoroughbred covered the ground swiftly and easily, and soon the lane came to the top of a wooded bowl snugged back against the clifftops. There in the middle stood the house.
Oh, it was lovely, even from the back. Surprise pushed the breath from her lungs in a little gasp, until a giddy combination of pleasure and relief let her breathe again. It was a large, two-and-a-half-story edifice of gray stone, the walls of which were dotted with a shining array of glass-paned windows. The tax must be a fortune. There was also a large cottage farther on down the lane to the left and beyond that, a high wall and smaller cottage that must denote the kitchen gardens. Farther along in the opposite direction was a long stable block. Lizzie’s hand rose to cover her heartfelt smile. Such a blissful relief. Oh, yes, it would do quite, quite nicely.
Finally. She was home. She’d never have to pretend to be anything other than what she wanted to be again.
“Don’t say anything yet.” Jamie caught up to her. “The best view is from the front. We’ll go along to the stable first.”
They took the parting of the lane to the west and moved around the back of the house to the stable block. It was clean and neat enough, an easy task with only one other animal in residence, but no one came to take their horses.
“As I said, there’s no staff.” He dismounted and came to help her.
“It’s fine.” She waved him away and slid off without assistance, the way she had when they’d been out adventuring in their youth. The wondrous relief she felt made her feel almost carefree: careless enough to drop her mask. It was so tempting to be herself with him. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten how. “I know elegant young ladies are supposed to be useless, but I still like to untack and curry my own horse.” She led her mare into the cobbled building.
“I don’t think you’re useless, Lizzie,” he said lightly.
She gave him as direct a look as she could manage—she had become rather adept at indirect looks—to see if he meant it. He did.
“Thank you.” The relief began to blossom into something more, something altogether too tempting to name.
They turned the animals loose in box stalls and hung the tack nearby.
When she came out onto the yard, he offered his arm, once more all courtly gallantry. “Come, I’ll show you the best view.”
Despite her temptation to openness, or perhaps because of it, Lizzie felt small, almost overpowered, tucked against his tall side. He was leaving. She slid away, no more than a half foot or so, but enough to put space and equanimity between them, as he led her along a graveled drive, past a paved court on the east side of the house and then beyond, onto a sweeping
She did. She felt an uncomfortable pang of remorse at using him and his steady devotion to duty as a means to her independence. Even if he’d been the one to suggest it. What had happened to him in the world to make him too open, too devoted for his own good?
“And you?” His eyes searched steadily even if his tone was light.
Certainly she was drawn to him as well. She thought him handsome, but with his strong forehead, clear eyes, high, well-formed cheekbones, and beautiful lips, so did anyone who had eyes. But she had always admired him for something more than mere good looks. For his openness and his mirth. For not being jaded by the inequities of the world. For the penetration of his gaze and for not hating her for what he saw in her.
Everything she might say would expose her. Lizzie looked away and laced her voice with studied, pert carelessness. “Because you promised me arable acres and a house. Where is it?”
He let her get away with her evasion. For now. He smiledwryly, one corner of his mouth tugging up, and nodded toward the coppice directly ahead. “Tucked down behind those trees.”
She moved away from him, urging her mount down the lane at a trot. The big, rangy Thoroughbred covered the ground swiftly and easily, and soon the lane came to the top of a wooded bowl snugged back against the clifftops. There in the middle stood the house.
Oh, it was lovely, even from the back. Surprise pushed the breath from her lungs in a little gasp, until a giddy combination of pleasure and relief let her breathe again. It was a large, two-and-a-half-story edifice of gray stone, the walls of which were dotted with a shining array of glass-paned windows. The tax must be a fortune. There was also a large cottage farther on down the lane to the left and beyond that, a high wall and smaller cottage that must denote the kitchen gardens. Farther along in the opposite direction was a long stable block. Lizzie’s hand rose to cover her heartfelt smile. Such a blissful relief. Oh, yes, it would do quite, quite nicely.
Finally. She was home. She’d never have to pretend to be anything other than what she wanted to be again.
“Don’t say anything yet.” Jamie caught up to her. “The best view is from the front. We’ll go along to the stable first.”
They took the parting of the lane to the west and moved around the back of the house to the stable block. It was clean and neat enough, an easy task with only one other animal in residence, but no one came to take their horses.
“As I said, there’s no staff.” He dismounted and came to help her.
“It’s fine.” She waved him away and slid off without assistance, the way she had when they’d been out adventuring in their youth. The wondrous relief she felt made her feel almost carefree: careless enough to drop her mask. It was so tempting to be herself with him. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten how. “I know elegant young ladies are supposed to be useless, but I still like to untack and curry my own horse.” She led her mare into the cobbled building.
“I don’t think you’re useless, Lizzie,” he said lightly.
She gave him as direct a look as she could manage—she had become rather adept at indirect looks—to see if he meant it. He did.
“Thank you.” The relief began to blossom into something more, something altogether too tempting to name.
They turned the animals loose in box stalls and hung the tack nearby.
When she came out onto the yard, he offered his arm, once more all courtly gallantry. “Come, I’ll show you the best view.”
Despite her temptation to openness, or perhaps because of it, Lizzie felt small, almost overpowered, tucked against his tall side. He was leaving. She slid away, no more than a half foot or so, but enough to put space and equanimity between them, as he led her along a graveled drive, past a paved court on the east side of the house and then beyond, onto a sweeping
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