“You are not welcome in my father’s house, my lord,” she tried again.
“But I am not in his house, Lady Marigold.” He kept pace right beside her. “So, technically…”
“I already told you, I can’t tell you where my sister—”
“But I am not walking with your sister,” he said. “I’m walking with you.”
Goldie’s feet stumbled to a halt, and not quite believing this was happening, she turned to glare up at him.
“Why?” How many times had she wished for this very scenario last summer? She ought to be ecstatic, and yet, it didn’t make sense. Did he have some ulterior motive? Would she be a fool to trust his sudden interest in… her?
They’d been walking along the park, and, arriving at a path leading across the vast lawn, he gestured toward it. “It’s a beautiful day. Stroll with me?”
And then he smiled.
Dash it all! This, his most potent weapon of all, must be her greatest weakness.
“Very well.” She had no power against a smile like that. “But only along the wooded paths. I can’t have this getting back to my father.”
Reed offered his arm, and Lady Marigold took it without a second of hesitation. Her hand felt small and warm even through his jacket, and when the breeze caught her hair, a hint of fruit teased his nostrils.
This innocent young woman smelled like strawberries.
“You are out early, by Tonnish standards.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“But it’s the early bird that gets the proverbial worm, is it not?”
“Are you implying that I’m a worm?” But she did not sound offended. In fact, she laughed again, and the alto tones of the sound sent a bewildering current vibrating through him.
“Perhaps I am the worm.” He sent her a teasing glance.
“Oh, that’s far more fitting.” They entered a wooded area, and she trailed her gloved fingertips along leaves that sprouted low on some of the trees. “But what kind of bird am I?”
“A starling?” Reed played along. He’d expected flirting to be more difficult than this. And yet…
Flirting with Lady Marigold came with surprising ease.
“Hmm… I do like wild starlings,” she said.
“What do you like about them?”
“A family of them made their home in the garden at Cross Castle. I think it’s lovely how their feathers develop those little white spots in winter. And they are deceptively smart. I once caught a starling in our garden mimicking cricket sounds. I don’t think they do that by accident.” She drew her hand away from the trees and raised it to her chin thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind being a starling… What kind of bird would you be?”
“But I’m the worm.”
“An earthworm,” she giggled.
Reed laughed and then feigned a shudder. “Oh, hell. I’d be a meal then. I suppose I would prefer to be a bird.”
“Not a blue jay,” she declared.
“And why would you say that?”
“Blue jays are bullies. They demand to be first. They don’t like to share…”
“Hmmm…” Reed wondered if she was imagining her father. “I’ve met my fair share of bullies, I must admit. I hope you have not.”
“Only a few…” And then she blushed. Of course, she wasn’t thinking of members of her family, but of his.
