When she looked stunned, he nodded towards the hill. She saw what looked like a tent fluttering above the surface of an ancient wall. “You brought a tent? Will it be too cold?” she asked, stopping her mare.
“No, no. I think I have taken care of the chill. The wind seems responsible, so we set up a canopied shelter using a corner of the ruins, with a wall blocking the wind. The fire should ward off the cold.”
“You . . . you did all of that for our outing?” she asked in utter amazement. Her heart did a little flip. “Michael, I would love a cup of hot tea.”
He beamed, clearly pleased. “I believe we can manage that. To maintain a legitimate chaperone for you, I asked my mother’s maid to accompany the servants that set up our picnic. I had initially invited her as a distraction for your maid, so we could talk and get to know each other. But when arrived at your house, I understood your dilemma and why you invited your footman, Peter. I decided she would be a perfect luncheon companion. Martha is the motherly type and loves to talk. Her propensity for constant conversation both frustrates and entertains my mother, but my mother would never part with her. Peter will be thoroughly entertained.”
They urged their horses into a canter, slowing them when they arrived at the ruined monastery. The Tudor-style ruins lay just in front of them. “Did you come up here as a child to play?” she asked, as Peter helped her dismount from her horse.
“The short answer isyes. Daniel and I used to come up here and talk or pretend to practice our sword fighting. It felt private. And it felt like our own space,” he replied. “Of course, that wasbeforeFather began training Daniel for his ducal duties.”
“I imagine you didn’t receive that training,” she breathed, as she accepted his arm and walked toward the brown tent.
“No. As the second son, I was permitted—nay, encouraged—to find an honorable occupation. I have always been fascinated with covert, military, and other related operations, so I took the first steps and bought a commission into the Army, serving Wellington.” He held out his arm for her, escorting her to the tent.
She looked up at him. “Were you ever frightened? I cannot imagine the horror of what you faced.” Isabelle would never have asked such questions but found herself extremely interested in what he had been through.
“During the fighting, yes. I was terrified at times,” he said, showing her to a seat. “Do you think you will be warm enough?”
Isabelle gazed around the room, taking in the trouble he had gone to. Floral tapestries hung along the interior of the tent, insulating it, and cutting the wind. “Yes, I am warm. Thank you.”
“Allow me to introduce you to Martha, who will serve as a chaperone.”
A middle-aged woman with greying hair bound in a tight chignon approached her. “My lady, should you need me for anything, you have but to ask.”
“Thank you, Martha. I wonder if you would be comfortable sitting with Peter, Lady Isabelle’s footman, and my footman, Oliver.” He showed the table on the other side of the tent, separated by a small folding screen. “I asked Mrs. Beacon to prepare a basket of food.”
“That is a wonderful surprise, Your Grace! We shall be more than happy.” Peter held the chair for Martha, and the two footmen took their seats.
Michael pulled a chair out for her and took his seat opposite. Smiling, he picked up her gloved hands. “Would you like your tea, now, my lady?”
“I would love some,” she said, worrying her bottom lip as she considered the surroundings.Why does the duke have to impress me so?His brother certainly did nothing like this. She couldn’t help but compare the two brothers, and Michael was going to a lot of trouble for something that he had determined to be a trial period.Perhaps he is more inclined to marry me than he let on earlier.Whatever he was up to, she determined she would enjoy herself. “How did you achieve this warmth in these gusty ruins?” she asked, selecting a lemon biscuit from a small silver platter on the table in front of her. Taking a small bite, she followed it with the tea, enjoying the crisp, lemon flavor. “Lemon is my favorite flavor.”
* * *
Michael noticed how relaxed she was in the tented ruins—much more so than she had been at dinner. Her smile had not moved from her lips. Sitting next to her, he found himself focused on her plump, bow-shaped lips, as she ate her biscuit and sipped the warm tea. A pulse of desire shot through him as he imagined kissing them, enticed by the way her tongue barely touched the bottom lip to catch a crumb that had escaped the lemon biscuit. Grateful for the screen that shielded them from the view of the others, Michael leaned closer and kissed her.
Her lips stilled for only a second before he gently coaxed them open with his tongue. It took little persuasion. She opened her lips and his tongue swept in and met hers, both swirling together in an entangled ritual of provocation and enticement. Any tentativeness Isabelle had, lasted only seconds, as her tongue pressed past his lips in a mutual give and take. The moment felt heady, unexpected, and beguiling. Voices of the servants happily enjoying their meal startled him from his momentary madness, and he pulled away, mesmerized by what had happened. Nothing was ordinary about this woman . . . not even a simple kiss.
“I must apol . . .” he started, but her gloved finger touched his lips and stopped him.
“No. Please, no apology,” she whispered. “I enjoyed it.”
“Perhaps there will be other opportunities.” He kept his voice low and gave a slow smile.
“Your Grace, we are betrothed, are we not?” she asked, with a glimmer of mischief shining in her eyes. “Therefore, we are allowed. If we decide to end the betrothal, I shall keep the memory of this kiss, and any others, with me.”
Dear lord. Was she asking for more because he’d like nothing better than to kiss her again?At that moment, he swore he would find a reason to do just that later. He needed to use this time to become reacquainted—really, to know her.
Contradictory thoughts flooded his mind. While their parents were close friends, he barely knew her, and when they had been together in the past, he had not paid that much attention to her. He would not saddle himself with a wife—especially a wife he did not want—one that he could not like. Michael had no problem finding women to kiss and more. Yet, this woman might become his wife. If that happened, he wanted more than an arranged marriage. He would want one where they had genuine feelings for each other. To that end, he never planned to have other women when he married. He didn’t know what would happen with her, but he realized it was most important he know her.
Instead of responding to her comment about a memory of kisses, he forced himself to focus. “My valet helped get things together for our outing, and I’m very much approving of the sunny, protected spot Conners placed the tent. There is a chill in the air.”
“I approve. It is beautiful,” she said, surveying the rest of the ruins and the grasslands that surrounded them. “Do cattle or sheep usually graze here?” Isabelle asked as she removed her cloak. “If I recall, it has always been an area for the sheep to graze, unless they are needed elsewhere on the estate.”
“For a few of the drier years, my father allowed the tenant farmers who needed additional grass for cows or their sheep to graze here. That’s probably what has kept the brush from re-establishing itself. The area seems more of a rolling meadow,” he surmised. He watched her every movement. She didn’t seem chilled or nervous. She seemed cheerful. Comparing this outing to dinner, he could see her fear of crowds was palpable. This more intimate setting suited her much better and still allowed for a proper chaperone.What could have created such trauma for her with crowds, as she had described it to him?He had seen stressful battle situations and knew them to cause soldiers unparalleled fear. Plenty of young soldiers had become fearful or traumatized after engaging in battle or becoming wounded. “You seem so comfortable out here—relaxed,” he blurted, not meaning to share his thoughts.
She gazed up at him, as a look of surprise crossed her face before it was quickly masked with a placid smile.
