The Scarlet Bride (6 page)

Laura narrowed her eyes skeptically. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect he’d followed her. However, he had
come upon her from the other direction. She concluded that their meeting had to be by chance. She settled back and stared.

“I thought it would be safe to venture out for a few hours.” She looked at his face, really noticing his striking features for the first time. He cut a fine figure on his grand horse. “I promised to be back before dark.”

Continuing her perusal, she noted that his hair was lighter in the sunshine, not quite black now, and was a bit long where it brushed the collar of his charcoal gray coat. His white breeches skimmed his thighs casually and left little to the imagination. His blue eyes were amused, and she knew it had to be her graceless near fall from the gig that brought his humor.

“Excellent plan, this adventure,” he said, tightening his grip on the reins. “I think I shall join you.”

He started to urge the horse forward, but drew up when she held Muffin back. “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but this journey involves one woman and one pony. Now if you will excuse us.”

Laura flicked the reins and clicked her tongue. The gig jolted into motion. The pony managed a full dozen steps before the gray moved up alongside them with a dancing gait. Laura stopped again, planting her feet so not to commit a second almost-tumble.

The man lacked the good sense not to grin at her vexed glare. “I think it best you have an escort. These are dangerous roads for a woman alone.”

Her gloved hands tightened on the reins. “In spite of recent events, I am not entirely helpless and am very handy with a whip. I can assure you I am quite safe.”

The saddle creaked as he adjusted his seat and held her stare. “Still, you cannot begrudge me an afternoon spent in the delightful company of a lovely woman?”

This argument was getting her nowhere. He had made up his mind to accompany her and wasn’t about to be put off. Hopefully, he’d quickly become bored with her aimless wanderings and leave her alone.

“As you wish,” she said with a sigh and urged Muffin onward. “But let me assure you, if you expect an exciting frolic around the countryside, you’ll be disappointed. Muffin, and I, do not frolic.”

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her. Oddly, though, she wasn’t uneasy with him, in spite of the way he’d quickly subdued her attackers. With evil footmen, he was a clear threat. The two men were likely still licking their wounds. With her, he was well contained and nonthreatening.

If he planned to drag her off into the bushes and violate her, there was no hint of that darkness on his face.

“The excitement will come from spending time in your charming company,” Mister Harrington said. “I believe we two will not suffer a single dull moment.”

Laura tried to look at him askance, but the brim of the bonnet proved an effective barrier. She impatiently pushed it back, then squinted under the attack of sunlight in her eyes.

“You, sir, do not know a thing about me.” She lifted one hand to shade her eyes. “I could be very, very dull.”

His smile was wide and disarming, the sort that made women swoon.

Thankfully, she was immune. There wouldn’t be any swooning today, or any other day.

“Are you
really
dull, Miss Laura?” He asked the question with mock sincerity. “Please tell me that you are not dreadfully dull.”

She shrugged. “If I say yes, then you will think I am dull and my womanly pride will not allow it. And if I say no, then I am filled with conceit for thinking myself a fascinating creature. I cannot win either way.”

He fell silent for a moment, and then smoothed down his artfully knotted white cravat before cocking up one brow. “Can I offer my opinion on the matter?”

“Would it gain me anything to say no?”

“I fear not.”

“Then proceed.”

Truthfully, she wanted to know his opinion. At the same time, he was much like the fly currently buzzing around Muffin’s pointed ears. If she waved him away, he’d keep coming back with equal determination to pester her until a swat ended the matter.

They came upon a split in the road and he headed left. Laura reluctantly followed. Once they were again side by side, he picked up the conversation.

“When one thinks of a person as dull, there are usually several reasons on which to base such an opinion, don’t you think?” He waited for her nod. “A person’s lack of conversational skills or endless pontificating on one especially dull topic can breed a dullard. Perhaps even a crushing shyness that makes lively conversation impossible. All of these do a person discredit when socializing. One, or even the whole, can lead one to become reputed to be dull and therefore avoided in social situations.”

“I suppose that is correct.” Laura couldn’t fault his reasoning thus far. But what did this have to do with her?

To Laura, this conversation itself was growing tiresome. “Sir, you really must get to the point. Am I dull or am I not?”

There wasn’t a need to look up to know he was smiling. Her impatience would only add to his wry humor.

“I have seen you face down footmen with fierce courage, half-frozen with fear and cold. You forge ahead with your life, in spite of having no family support or a clear path to follow. And today you have given me glimpses into your sharp and fascinating mind.” He shook his head. “My Lady Laura, you are most certainly not dull.”

Laura sat in the bobbing seat and thought about his observation. She once considered herself witty and carefree. There had been friendships and young men to flirt with and a father who taught her to enjoy books and lively conversation. She’d laughed and danced and was hopeful of her future. Unfortunately, her father’s illness had worsened. Everything had changed once he realized he was dying.

The frivolity of her life had vanished.

Her chest tightened as the bright sky seemed to darken around her. “Sometimes it is safer to cling to dullness. It allows one to go through life without notice.”

S
imon heard an underlying current of something in her voice—a deep sadness. It notched up his curiosity about her.

“Perhaps.” He let his eyes drift over her hair and noticed there was a hint of red in the sable. Her lashes were long and dark and effectively shaded her eyes. From his position above, he could see the graceful curve of her neck and the straight line of her pert nose. But it was the upward press of her full white bosom against her modest neckline that caused the most interest. She possessed delightful curves.

Beneath his breeches, he felt a stir, and silently cursed his reaction. If he wanted her to trust him, openly lusting after her was not the way to go about earning favor.

“I see you have a basket,” he asked, changing the conversation. He needed to lighten her mood. “Dare I hope you are in possession of food?”

She looked at the basket and frowned. She was clearly nearing the end of her patience. He should ride away, but found he couldn’t. He was curious to know her better.

“I suppose I
could
share with you….” She let her voice trail off, leaving him the perfect opening to excuse himself.

Instead, he nodded toward a nearby copse of trees. “Then I think that field yonder is a perfect spot for a picnic.”

Simon ignored her exasperated sigh and nudged Horse off the road. He dismounted and tied both Horse and the pony to a crooked fence post.

The two animals regarded each other warily before the weeds waving near their muzzles proved more interesting than each other. They both settled down to eat.

Holding out his arm, Simon led Laura across the meadow to a pair of oak trees. The light scent of flowers drifted up from her and he grinned. If he could soothe her annoyance, then perhaps the picnic would be a success.

He shucked off his coat and smoothed his gray-striped waistcoat into place. They didn’t have a blanket, and her white dress wasn’t practical for sitting on bare earth.

“Allow me.” He spread the coat out for her. She murmured her thanks and settled down on the makeshift seat. Simon sat on a patch of prickly grass and lifted the lid of the basket.

“Are those tarts I smell?” If the delightful scent was any indication, the cook at the courtesan school possessed excellent culinary skills. But it wasn’t food he found first. Brows aloft, he closed his hand over polished steel and lifted a pistol to the light. “Someone is expecting trouble.”

Laura gasped, screwed up her face, and shook her head. “Sophie is very protective. Clearly she expected me to be overrun by highwaymen and thieves.”

Simon turned it in the light. It was loaded. “These are only useful when one knows how to use them.”

Laura smirked. She reached for the pistol and he reluctantly put the weapon in her outstretched hand. It took him a few seconds to realize she knew exactly how to handle a pistol as she skillfully examined the piece.

At his surprised look, she shrugged. “My father always hoped for a son. Sadly, my parents had no other children. So he taught me everything a son should know.”

Simon grinned and reclaimed the pistol. “I am impressed.” And he was. She was quite an interesting puzzle. “Now we eat.”

As he pulled out each food item, he eagerly anticipated the next. Slices of fresh bread filled with ham and slices of cheese, the strawberry tarts, and some sort of crusty meat pie that he suspected by the aroma was pigeon, rounded out the fare. “Your cook expected you to feed an army. There is enough food here for a half dozen hearty appetites.”

A smile tugged one corner of her mouth. “Miss Eva makes sure her courtesans eat well. She is very considerate of her young ladies.” She reached out for the cheese and popped a wedge into her mouth. Simon watched, fascinated, as she delicately chewed before reaching for a sandwich.

Watching her eat was a dangerous thing to do. She had a mouth meant for kisses. It took a huge measure of discipline to turn his eyes from her full lips to the treats spread out near his knees. The food was certainly less fascinating than his lovely companion.

Simon took a fork to the meat pie and put a large bite into his mouth. The taste was delicious. After he swallowed it down, he grinned. “Do you think Eva would be piqued if I stole away her cook?”

Laura looked at him sidelong. “I think you have pushed her patience too far already. If you abscond with Cook, I think she will set the hounds on you.”

“She has hounds?” Simon asked, frowning.

“If she doesn’t, I’m sure she can find some.”

Simon realized Laura was teasing him, and he chuckled. It showed him, in spite of her sober demeanor, that she didn’t despise him. Not completely anyway. If she could banter with him, surely smiles and laughter would follow. Someday.

“Then I shall leave the cook to the school.” He made a face. “I do not relish the thought of being torn to bits.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. He froze, watching and waiting for the smile. It didn’t come.

They ate in companionable silence until a good half of the food had disappeared. Once satisfied, Laura leaned back on her hands and lifted her eyes to the blue sky, mottled through the expanse of leaves overhead. For an unguarded moment, she seemed relaxed and carefree.

The wary strain around her eyes and mouth vanished, and Simon wondered what it would be like to hear her laugh—a full, open, belly laugh. He considered recent events and suspected she hadn’t had much cause for laughter.

He’d treaded into a perilous tide and knew spending the day with her was a terrible idea. He had Brenna’s future to consider. He should be in London courting Lady Jeanette. But for a few hours he wanted to forget the weight of his responsibilities and simply enjoy Laura’s company.

They sat quietly for several minutes. She watched the
birds and he watched her. Her every innocent movement drew his attention, from the way she tipped her head, to the motion of her hand as she twirled a length of grass between her fingers.

Eventually he forgot himself when her seductive draw proved too much for his male urges to resist. Her perfect mouth was a beacon for his attention. He leaned forward and stepped over an invisible boundary.

“Now that our appetites have been sated, what shall we do next?” Without thinking, he reached out and drew a pair of fluttering hairs away from her lips. His fingertips brushed her silky skin and his mouth parted. The overwhelming ache to kiss her overcame his good sense.

He lifted his eyes to her face for some sign that she wanted to kiss him, too. What he saw was not sensual hunger. She was stock-still, her eyes wide.

Panic flashed across her features. She blinked, scrambled backward off his coat, stood, and jumped away from him like a startled deer. “Don’t touch me,” she cried and lifted her hands to hold him off.

Simon was stunned by her reaction to a simple touch. Did she think his plan was to violate her here in the grassy meadow? Did he look to her like the sort of man who’d force himself on a woman?

He felt a rush of annoyance and stood.

“Keep back,” she ordered. Her eyes darted to the horses as she appeared to assess her chances of escape.

“Laura.” He lifted his hands, too. The encounter was teetering on odd and he was darn certain he had no idea why she’d reacted to him so vehemently.

Laura shook as though she’d fallen into an icy pond. “Don’t you come near me or I’ll scream.”

“Laura.” He turned his hands palms up and open in a gesture he hoped would appease her. “I didn’t mean anything untoward by touching your face.”

Whether it was because of his tone or the words or his calm voice, something changed in her. She blinked and her shoulders drooped as she openly struggled to regain her
composure. Her nose notched up. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

Simon nodded. “I shall try and remember.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. She seemed satisfied with his compliance.

As he looked into her eyes, he suspected that his lusty thoughts and his clear desire to kiss her had panicked her. But why? Maybe she
had
thought he planned to make use of the privacy to press her down in the grass.

Slowly, she crossed her arms protectively over her bosom. The movement shifted the neckline of the day dress and it gaped slightly away from her body.