The Princess by Elizabeth Elliott

Author:Elizabeth Elliott
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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At first I thought the garden walk was simply an excuse to find a private place to kiss. Instead we talked. We walked and talked for hours. Conversation flowed and the world outside the garden ceased to exist.

He told me more about his childhood, how he and Richard had constantly competed, and the time they had joined forces to trick the stable master into thinking all of the hounds had escaped. The two boys sounded like they were a handful. Several times he started to laugh before he could tell me what he was laughing about, which made me laugh, which made him laugh even harder. He spoke with such affection for his family and his people that I became even more certain that he would never purposely harm anyone in his care.

Somewhere on that journey to nowhere, the butterflies in my stomach stopped fluttering for the most dangerously handsome man in existence, and began to take wing for Faulke Segrave, the man.

Fortunately, he only told me of happy memories, so my dreamy smile was probably appropriate most of the time. Other times, my smile would fade of its own accord when his eyes would glaze over in the midst of recalling some adventure, especially when his now-absent mother was involved. I knew somehow that those were not happy memories, and I found myself wanting to somehow comfort him.

I was not a comforting type of woman, but with Faulke, I wanted to make him forget the unpleasant memories. Whenever he looked somber, I changed the subject, usually by telling him about one of my childhood adventures with Gretchen. We were not nearly as adventurous as Faulke and Richard, but we played our share of pranks on our maids and on the other children at court. The stories reminded me that not all or even most of my time in Rheinbaden had been unpleasant. I had many good memories of my years there.

We looked at each other as we talked. Really looked. His gaze moved over my face, returned to my eyes, took in my hair, moved lower to the neckline of my gown, and then returned to my face to start the journey all over again. I felt as if he was cataloguing each of my features and expressions, because I was doing the same in return. The few small flaws I inventoried didn’t surprise me.

There was the scar through his eyebrow, of course, but that only made him look more dangerous. That eyebrow was also a little higher than the other. His hair could use a good trim. Sometimes he made a sound when he laughed that was just as ridiculous as my donkey bray when I laughed too hard. I almost cherished those small flaws, because they made me realize I was no longer blinded by the façade of perfection. Yes, he was handsome, but he was also funny, frustrating, bossy, and intelligent. Most of all, he was mine. And I wanted to keep him.

I

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