“I daren’t attempt saintly,” he said, “but I’m adept at noble.”
Genova broke the entrancement and saw Miss Myddleton across the clearing, burdened with Lieutenant Ormsby’s scarlet and watching Ash with a hungry frown.Beware!Genova wanted to call out to her.Beware the wolf who will eat you whole.
When she looked back, Ash was strolling over to the log. One of the men there said something, grinning. Ash laughed and replied in kind.
Genova hugged his jacket to her, fearful that they were laughing at her, though she knew they would not be so coarse. Not where she could hear it, at least.
She struggled to show nothing, wishing she was half the actor he was. Wishing she wasn’t tumbling in love with an impossible man.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Genova saw Miss Myddleton approaching and groaned.Not now.
“I see you love him,” Miss Myddleton said.
Genova defended by instinct. “That would be normal when two people plan to marry.”
“Would it?” Miss Myddleton turned to watch the sawing. “People marry for practical purposes all the time.”
“Which you plan to?”
“I plan to marry Ashart.”
Genova wanted to shake her. “You can’t marry a man without his cooperation.”
The heiress’s eyes were fixed on her quarry. “No?”
Genova wasn’t sure if she was impelled by concern for Ashart or the young woman, but she had to warn. “Miss Myddleton, it wouldn’t be wise to marry a man who is not willing. It could naturally incline him to be unpleasant.”
Damaris Myddleton frowned. Was she hearing and understanding? “Men can be very stupid.”
“Certainly, but so can women. Consider Lady Booth Carew.”
The cat’s eyes flickered to her. “A vain lackwit.”
“Precisely, because forcing a marriage with Ashart, if it could be achieved, would be like locking oneself in a cage with a hungry wolf.”
Those eyes widened, but not, perhaps, entirely with alarm. Unfortunately, Genova understood. Sanity said to keep as far from Ash as possible, but very little of her seemed ruled by sanity these days.
The first pair of men stepped back sweating and offered the saw to others. Ash immediately took one end. Genova saw Lieutenant Ormsby move to take the other, and Lord Rothgar stop him and take the place.
“What about the untapped vigor?” Ash asked.
“Mere rank must lend us strength.”
The two men set to work, pushing and pulling so the saw ate into the wood. Given the family strife, it should have been a competition, but that was impossible. To achieve anything, they had to work in harmony.
Genova prayed that Ash take the lesson, but doubted it. Neglected by feckless parents, raised by a bitter grandmother, spoiled by rank and wealth, he might be exactly the sort to revel in chaos.
Lieutenant Ormsby demanded his turn, his look at Damaris Myddleton showing that he wanted to impress her. He was a fine figure of a man, but his cause was hopeless. He was as good as invisible in Ash’s bright light.
Breathing deeply, looking glorious, Ash was returning. Genova unpinned his cravat and wiped his sweaty brow with it, aware of the ancient instinct to both cherish and claim. She could tell herself she was trying to deter Miss Myddleton from folly, but she was simply succumbing to a force as natural and irresistible as a hurricane or tidal wave.
He responded with a wicked smile that weakened her knees, even though she knew it was artifice. He draped the cravat around his neck, drew her to him with one arm, and paid her with a kiss.
It took all Genova’s will not to cinch him close and demand the sort of kiss she hungered for.
“I believe that’s eight guineas you owe.”
