Madeline's Protector by Vanessa Riley

Author:Vanessa Riley [Riley, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: christian Fiction
ISBN: 9781611162257
Publisher: Pelican Ventures Book Group
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

18

Shadows from a flock of geese scampered overhead covering their picnic blanket. The calls of the birds filled the air, blocking all earth-bound noise. It didn’t matter, for at this moment, Madeline couldn’t speak.

Justain leaned in close. His fingers swept along her chin. He raised her head so their gazes tangled. His lips brushed hers for an instance, but he moved to her brow. “You’ll be all right as I exercise?” His words vibrated her lobe, spread a tingle down her spine.

She nodded and waved him off. As he moved, she instantly missed the scent of him, the warmth his breath falling on her skin.

Justain leapt upon his beautiful onyx horse and raced the fertile grounds. With skies now clear, the lowered sun seemed only a few miles away. Hopefully, Justain and his steed wouldn’t give chase. She rather liked having him underfoot even if his attentiveness was disconcerting.

She brushed crumbs off her muslin skirts and took care near her throbbing leg. It hurt from her ankle to her shin, but to walk under her own weight exceeded the pain. With her crutch in one hand and Justain’s support, they’d taken a turn about the floral beds. Mint and sage scented the landscape. It was extraordinary.

She stretched out on the thick tartan blanket. Justain whipped past. He jaunted close to the ever-faithful Mr. Winton, a few trees away. He had his steward watch over her as Justain jumped the hedges. The earnest man shuffled through letters and envelopes. He appeared relaxed though a rifle leaned next to his boot.

More mysterious papers.

She’d pressed Justain to disclose the nature of his posts, but he changed the subject to sculpture.

Why wouldn’t he confide in her? And why did it hurt so much when he didn’t? Something was clearly wrong with her thinking.

Madeline munched on a grape and sipped tart lemonade. Young Mr. Winton was an amiable man. His red hair and freckles should denote a temper, but he always appeared calm. His placid nature seemed to have a steadying influence over Justain. He was their timekeeper, marshalling the couple from stop to stop. It was wrong to be envious of Winton’s ability to discuss anything with Justain, but yet she was. She stroked her forehead. When had she become so irrational?

Her gaze returned to the broad shoulders of her husband. He held his seat so firm, he could’ve been in regimentals. Justain and his mount moved as one, graceful and masculine. They flew across the field. Justain’s long legs blended into the saddle, symbolizing their union.

They approached Madeline’s right and jumped a low gate. The pleasure of it rippled across his face. The perfect statue appeared human, caught in bliss, different from the measured tones he showed her. She put a hand to her stomach. Now she envied a horse?

The unguarded man of the Queen’s Inn was gone, and this new manifestation seemed to take pleasure in stirring up restless discontent. The man found a reason to have his arms about her and kiss her forehead countless times a day.

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