The Merry Month of May by Joan Smith

Author:Joan Smith [Smith, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1990-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Sara’s heart throbbed heavily as she hastened toward the meadow. The sun had begun to lower, but it was still warm on her shoulders. Underfoot, the rank grass was uncomfortably long. It grabbed at her skirts while water trapped in the earth moistened her slippers. She was unaware of the beauty of the meadow, with swallows swooping and soaring in the azure arch of sky, hung with puffy white clouds. Tall rows of willows dropped their branches over the stream. The grass was spangled with daisies and foxglove and flax flowers, nodding in the breeze. The air was full of vernal scents of grass and flowers and damp earth, also unnoticed.

Sara had never run after a man before in her life, but the situation was becoming desperate. Miss Harvey had daily access to Haldiman, and the report of the tea party had been alarming. This was her opportunity to sound Haldiman out for herself. As she neared the stream, she espied a tall form in a blue jacket and slackened her pace, suddenly shy to approach him. It would be better if Haldiman should discover her. She turned off to the left and began gathering a bouquet.

Behind her she heard the raucous sounds of small boys at play, accompanied by a noisy dog. She waited for them to notice her and call Haldiman’s attention to her. As her nerves stretched tight, she almost wished she hadn’t come. It would look so odd, picking these few wildflowers when they had a whole cutting garden at Whitehern. But he couldn’t know Swithin had told her he was here. Half the meadow was theirs. In fact, it was Haldiman who was trespassing. Emboldened by this, she continued. The dog, a tan spaniel, picked up her scent and plunged forward, yapping a welcome.

“Look, Papa! A lady!” little Rufus shouted.

Sara heard it loud and clear, for Rufus had a carrying voice. Papa! Good God, it was Peter with him! She straightened up and looked across the meadow, gauging her chance of escape. Peter and Beau had wandered closer. There was no possibility of error. Peter had seen her as clearly as she had seen him and was already pouncing forward. Sara wanted to take to her heels and run, but as in a nightmare, she seemed rooted to the ground. Suddenly he was there beside her, smiling, with the sun shining on him, lending him a golden glow.

“Sara! What a delightful surprise!”

Sara swallowed convulsively and said in a choked voice, “I thought you were at the Poplars.”

“I usually go early in the morning and get home by mid-afternoon, to spend some time with the boys.”

“Oh. I have to go.” She turned to flee. The dog barked. Peter’s hand fell on her elbow, restraining her.

“Stay a moment,” he said softly.

She felt like a rabbit, trapped by the hunter, and knew she was behaving foolishly. Peter wasn’t an ogre. In fact, he looked as dashing and handsome as ever. His old air of recklessness was tempered now by the presence of his sons.

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