The Danger in Desperate Bonnets (Ladies Most Unlikely Book 2) by Jayne Fresina

Author:Jayne Fresina [Fresina, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twisted E-Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-10-29T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Washing horses in the stable yard, Heath was thoroughly absorbed in the task when he heard the clang of an iron gate and footsteps. He looked up to see who it was, and the distant shape emerging from the garden wall was immediately recognizable. In haste he fumbled for his leather gloves where he'd set them aside on a hay bale to keep dry. Covering his wooden fingers was the first consideration, then he scrambled for his shirt, where he'd hung it over the door of a loose box. Alarmed to be caught in a state of undress, he jerked it over his head, aware that the linen would now become wet and soiled, but having no choice in the matter.

"Miss Goodheart, I thought you would all be at dinner," he exclaimed, breathless. It was colder that evening and darker now. He worked by the glow of a brazier and several rush torches placed in iron sconces along the stable wall. But even by this dim, changeable light he saw at once the heightened color in her face and knew she had observed more of his bared form than a young, unmarried lady should. "Forgive me," he muttered, "I did not expect—"

"It's quite all right, Mr. Caulfield," she interrupted in a high rush of chatter. "I told you once before that I am not a fading lily. The sight of a naked male chest, while terrifying and scandalous for a girl of weaker constitution, leaves me quite..." he heard her pause to bite into an apple, "quite indifferent."

They stood for a moment, saying nothing. Chewing on her apple, she had halted a few steps away from him, a gentle breeze blowing the hem of her dark blue gown against her ankles, and toying with the fringe of a light shawl that she wore around her shoulders. A cluster of coppery ringlets danced against her cheeks, catching the flickering darts of fire light from the brazier.

"Should you eat that before dinner?" he muttered. "It could spoil your appetite."

"Not mine. My old headmistress used to say I have the appetite, as well as the grace, of a carthorse. And she was quite right."

Something about her was different tonight, he realized. Ah, yes, her stitches were all in their place— so far— there was no mud, no impatient dashing about, and her hair was arranged in tidy curls. Miss Goodheart looked like a "normal" young lady this evening. If there could be such a thing.

He was still not deceived into believing her harmless, however. Her eyes held a pert, mischievous challenge and her lips were lopsided just enough that even in repose they appeared ready to laugh or throw out a flippant comment.

Miss Goodheart lacked the usual meekness and gentility expected in a young lady, for she was boldly unpredictable— even brazen. There were, indeed, many reasons to regard her with suspicion, not the least of which was the fact that she stood before him eating an apple. It suddenly struck Heath as quite indecent for a young lady to stand in public chewing an apple.

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