To Have And To Hoyden by Devon Eva

Author:Devon, Eva
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Romance
Publisher: Bard Productions
Published: 2021-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Dawn came swiftly as did their flight to the coach that rumbled off to the north and Conn’s home country.

The next days were spent in splendor.

They were filled with poetry.

Yes, poetry.

For Conn did like to recite verse to her.

And she was amazed by the amount of Greek verse that he knew, as well as French medieval poetry, the poetry of Shakespeare, and the poetry of John Donne.

She was amazed by his extensive memory.

So few men truly appreciated the nuances of it, in her personal opinion. Some were obsessed with poetry by the likes of Byron—self-indulgent nonsense. Or they focused on the warrior deeds of the epic heroes and not their humanity.

But not Conn.

He loved to speak of the glorious tales of old. The loves, the losses, the suffering.

In the long hours on the rough roads, he was even capable of telling great tales of the Viking lords. She was astounded by it, but she loved every moment. And the sound of his voice filling the air as they traveled further and further from her old life made her feel completely alive.

It was a shocking sensation, for usually she only felt alive in her imagination. As a young lady of the ton, she’d been forced to go to parties and mingle with people.

And she would dance, ride, play cards, and do all that a lady was expected to do whilst saying exactly what she thought about it.

As an heiress, she’d decided to be bold. Even if her guardian tried to rule her with his iron fist. The tighter he’d squeezed, the more she’d insisted on speaking her mind.

But with Conn, she was able to be with him and to listen and to feel present without rebelling.

He held her tightly to his chest, his cheek resting against the top of her head. Gently, he traced her hands with his fingertips, getting to know her. And that’s exactly what she realized was happening in those days traveling north.

He was getting to know her and she him.

She told him tales of her happy childhood in the north of England, in Yorkshire, where she had bounded free, traveling through all of the great dales on her pony with her father and her mother.

They had been a family that loved the outdoors. She had adored long walks and climbing up the peaks. Her father had too, as had her mother.

None of them had been shy about ruddy cheeks and windswept lands.

They had stayed up late together reading stories.

She could still remember her father telling tales of the old ghosts and fairies that ruled the seasons. Her mother had laughed deeply and played the pianoforte.

Oh, she could play Mozart as well as anyone. But she preferred the airs of old.

Her handfasted husband had listened with great interest, and she had adored the fact that he had hung upon her every word.

No one ever had before. Only her three friends had given her any attention before.

Yet, this was different. He seemed transfixed by everything she said.

In her experience, men simply waited for ladies to be quiet so that they could speak.

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