Rhys chuckled. “But Old Tom has his own respect to think of.”
“Exactly.” Kenna allowed herself a brief smile which faded as she shot Rhys an earnest look. “You won’t mention it to Nick, will you?”
Rhys pretended to consider her request. “No, not if you promise to speak to Allen about the trap. If that fox hadn’t found it first it could have been Pyramid’s leg that was caught. You might have been thrown and trampled.”
Kenna had already thought of that and she had not been as kind to herself as Rhys had been. She definitelywouldhave been thrown and only the most unusual piece of luck would have kept Pyramid from crushing her in his mad frenzy to escape the trap.
“I’ll speak to him this afternoon. His home is only a few miles from here.” It will give me a reason to leave the house and you, she told herself. “Tom will have to hear from me that I won’t sanction his use of traps. It’s too cruel.”
“So there is a soft spot in your heart after all.” Rhys hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud but when he saw Kenna give a start he knew he had done just that.
“For some of God’s creatures,” she said pointedly.
“Another well-aimed arrow, Kenna. I should have learned to duck them by now.”
“You should have learned not to provoke them. I can’t imagine why you even want to spend time with me. Nick and Victorine would be most happy to have your company.”
“Meaning you’re not.”
Kenna shrugged and let him draw his own conclusions.
“I doubt Victorine is up at this hour and Nick is happily settled behind his paper in the breakfast room. Your brother isn’t any company at all until he’s read the gossip sheet and financial news. Never was.”
Kenna reined in Pyramid abruptly and stared at Rhys, her chin raised a notch. “Why have you come, Rhys?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I asked. Why have you come to Dunnelly now? Your last visit was nearly two years ago, when you returned from the fighting in Spain. You never come without some purpose in mind so I am asking: What is the purpose of your visit now?”
“Pray, tell me, Kenna. What was the nature of my visit the last time?”
“To regale my brother and Victorine with your heroics on the battlefield.”
Rhys’s eyes narrowed and his voice hardened. “Is that what you thought?”
Kenna averted her eyes and felt herself weakening under his glowering. She felt like a child jumping at shadows, but there was no escaping the fact that she did not want to be alone with Rhys in the woods a moment longer. With Rhys and his mount crowding her on the path it was too narrow for her to change directions comfortably, but there was a clearing up ahead and Kenna nudged Pyramid forward, turning him around and heading back the way they came.
Rhys had not followed Kenna but when she returned he was waiting for her, Higgins facing the path out of the woods. When she attempted to pass him he reached out and took Pyramid’s reins.
Kenna shied away immediately, dropping the ribbons. “What are you—”
“I asked you a question. I intend to receive an answer.”
“Yes. That’s why I thought you came. Didn’t you want to prove that you were one of Wellington’s favorites? Does my memory serve me? Was it two horses that were shot out beneath you in one battle? Didn’t you then lead men against Napoleon’s armies on the Peninsula on foot? You were part of that bloody war for five years and you and I both know why.”
Rhys went very still. “Why?” he asked softly.
Kenna pitched caution to the four winds. “Because you wanted to prove to Nicholas that you were not the traitor my father accused you of being!” She paused and said scathingly, “But how could you be otherwise, you…American!Every story you told was carefully calculated to make you sound the modest hero. Damn you, Rhys Canning! You may have convinced Nick you had nothing to do with my father’s murder, but all the heroics in the world won’t convince me! No doubt the fighting could have been finished in half those years if Wellington had known one of his officers was a spy, a traitor, and a murderer!”
Had last night’s dream not still been so vivid in her mind Kenna doubted she could have spoken as she just had. Those memories, preserved in her head in the same vibrant colors as the tapestries in the gallery, goaded her on.
Rhys caught his breath and his leather gloves were pulled taut around his clenched fists. His jaw ached from the stiff way he held it, biting back the words he wanted to use to flay her. “Dreams haunting you again Kenna?” he asked in a tight voice. “Permit me to give you something to dream about.”
But Rhys did not wait for permission to be granted. Without any more warning he yanked the ribbons from Kenna’s hands and tossed them aside, hauling Kenna onto the saddle in front of him.
Kenna was too startled to fight and when she gathered her wits she also recognized the futility of such a gesture. She sat rigidly, her hip and shoulder nestled intimately against Rhys’s unyielding thighs and chest. “What are you doing?” she asked between clenched teeth.
Kenna felt her hat slide from her head as one of Rhys’s hands clutched her thick braid, pulling back and lifting her face to him. A small space of wintry air separated Rhys’s mouth from hers. Then it was gone, replaced by a warm, sweet, impatient sigh as Rhys studied her mouth with eyes that had lost their pewter softness and darkened dramatically.
