She coiled her arms around his neck as he carried her back up the beach, shingle crunching beneath his ruined boots. ‘Actually, I think we may have distracted each other.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’ He tightened his hold on her. ‘As distractions go, I mean?’
‘Well…’ she tipped her head against his shoulder ‘…as distractions go…it was quite enjoyable.’
‘Quiteenjoyable?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘So you wouldn’t mind being distracted again? Once the fair is out of the way, of course?’
There was a momentary pause before she cupped a hand around the back of his neck and gently touched a thumb to his nape. ‘I think I should like itverymuch.’
Chapter Seventeen
Today was the day, Florence told herself, seized with a burst of nervous excitement the moment she opened her eyes the next morning, the first Saturday of August, the date of the annual summer fair.
She rolled onto her back and stretched, revelling in the cocoon of warmth she’d made under her blankets. She’d slept well, better than she’d expected considering how anxious she felt, which was surely a good sign, but whatwasthat sound? Faint but persistent, a soft tapping, like fingertips beating gently against a drum. Slowly she lifted her head, looking around her bedchamber for the source. A small fire was roaring in the grate and her curtains were open, though her room was still a shadowy grey thanks to the rain.
The rain?
She jolted upright and stared at her window in horror. Rain was lashing against the glass, and not just a little, but a practical deluge. So much so that she wouldn’t have been surprised to find somebody standing outside throwing buckets of water up at the house.
Oh, no. No, no, no… Her spirits plummeted to the soles of her feet. There wasneverrain on fair day. Wasn’t that what Leo had told her? And yet here it was, in her very first year as the marchioness…
‘Leo!’ She leapt out of bed and ran to the door between their bedrooms, bursting through without bothering to knock because this was an emergency and she needed to speak with him right away or…
She skidded to a halt. Her husband was climbing out of bed, presumably thanks to her panicked shout, looking as if he’d just woken up, with a smattering of dark stubble across his jaw and his hair sticking out at comical angles. More to the point, he was also completely stark naked.
Her eyes dropped before she could stop them. With five brothers, she wasn’t exactly ignorant about the male body, only she’d never seen one so…fully grown before. Goose-pimples erupted over her skin. And this was the man she’d kissed on the beach, whose lips had moulded to hers as though they’d been made for each other, who’d scooped her into his arms and carried her back to their horses…
‘Oh!’ She spun around, mortified to realise she’d been staring. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have waited. I just needed to tell you…’ She flailed her arms towards the windows. ‘Rain!’
‘Ah.’ She heard a rustle of clothing, followed by footsteps. ‘So there is.’
She darted a quick look sideways. Leo was already standing beside the window, his body now concealed beneath a long, dark green dressing gown, while she… She glanced down, suddenly acutely conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any kind of dressing gown herself, just the revealing nightdress that Cassie had given her. And if he looked rumpled then so must she. She hadn’t even glanced in a mirror before rushing in here. Her hair could be standing on end for all she knew.
‘I just can’t believe it.’ She attempted to focus on the problem at hand, folding her arms around herself in a belated attempt to preserve her modesty. ‘After eighty-five years of sunshine! What are the chances?’
‘Quite low.’ He sounded contemplative. ‘It’s certainly a surprise.’
‘It’s more than that. It’s a calamity! The whole day is ruined!’ A shiver rippled through her. ‘And it’scold! I don’t know how, but this is all Mrs Fitch’s fault. She’s probably laughing to herself right now, thinking it’s a sign that everything’s going to collapse without her.’
‘Sewell too probably.’
‘Do you think it might pass?’ she asked hopefully. ‘Bad weather usually clears in four hours.’
‘Unless there’s no wind, which unfortunately appears to be the case.’
‘Argh!’ She flung her head back. ‘It doesn’t even matter. Even if the rain was to stop right now, there’s so much of it, the grass would still be too wet for a picnic this afternoon.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right.’ His footsteps approached. ‘Fortunately, it’s only a summer fair. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not hugely important. Nobody’s sick or injured.’
‘Maybe not, but—’
‘And,’ he went on, slowly unpeeling her arms from around her chest, ‘we have a ballroom.’
‘We…what?’ Her pulse jumped as he laced their fingers together.
‘We have a ballroom,’ he repeated, his eyes warm. ‘As well as several reception rooms we barely use. If we clear away some furniture, we should be able to bring the fair inside.’
‘That could work.’ Her breath caught. ‘We could fill the ballroom with flowers from the orangery so it looks like a garden. Then we could lay blankets on the floor and put a hamper on each. And we could use the long gallery for the children’s races and set out tables in one of the drawing rooms for all the competition entries…’
