Despite the late summer sunlight that streamed in when her maid opened the windows, she felt gray and lifeless. Listlessly she allowed Florette to dress her in a morning gown of amethyst twill. She refused to wear mourning in private for Barclay and his mother.
“Milady is not going to read her note?” The maid handed her a square of heavy vellum, addressed to her in her husband’s slashing hand. As the maid straightened up the room, Diantha unfolded it.
Dearest Dina,
Please join me for a picnic lunch today? DoctorAndrews has pronounced me fully recovered andI should like to celebrate. Meet me downstairs at11:30. Wear a riding habit.
Yours, Kieran
Numbly, she folded the paper back up and moved to her desk to draft a reply. He wanted to take her on a private picnic? It sounded so promising, but she squelched her hopes ruthlessly. They had no guests, who else was there for him to turn to when he suffered from boredom?
Nevertheless, a few hours later she descended the wide stairway to the entry five minutes early, wearing a cerise serge riding habit that flattered her brown hair and blue eyes. Thoughts of her own appearance left her head when she saw Kieran pacing the floor, already waiting for her.
“You’re wearing a kilt!”
“Clever of you to notice.” His lips twisted into the lopsided grin that never failed to make her smile back. The severity of the ash gray plaid shot with green, blue, and yellow enhanced his stunning good looks. He wore a black jacket above the skirt with a crisp white shirt underneath. Another length of plaid was looped diagonally around his body and secured at the left shoulder with a badge. Diantha swallowed at the sight of his muscular calves, then glanced at his face. She had nearly started drooling on the man; how humiliating.
Kieran’s eyes swept slowly down her body with a glint of appreciation that set her heart hammering. He offered his arm. “Shall we go?”
Outside, the groom threw her up into the saddle while Kieran mounted his own horse. Seeing her look about for servants to accompany them, he patted one of the two hampers slung behind his saddle. “I thought we might serve ourselves today.”
“I should like that very much.” She beamed at him as they set out. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
He refused to disclose their destination despite her lighthearted coaxing. The ride passed with laughter and teasing until they reached a meadow stretching in all directions. The scent of heather arose with every step the horses took. After helping her dismount, he stood for a long moment looking down at her with eyes gone serious.
She returned her husband’s regard, wrinkling her brow, until he let go of her waist and stepped away to fetch the baskets. She frowned at his back, wondering if he toyed with her emotions on purpose.
“You could be of some assistance here!” Thesmiling request came as Kieran turned, arms full, to face her once more.
Together they spread the tablecloth and unpacked the carefully wrapped china, glasses, and crystal. MacAdam’s perfectionism did not permit him to provide an inferior meal, and they dined on potted salmon with toast points, cold chicken in cream sauce, cucumbers vinaigrette, rolls, butter, and cheese. They washed everything down with a bottle of white wine. Only the wild birds wheeling overhead and the steady breeze kept them company.
“However did you get MacAdam to prepare all this on short notice?” Diantha inelegantly licked a spot of crème anglaise from her index finger. Beside her lay a dessert plate with only a few crumbs of cake left.
In the noonday warmth, they had both removed their jackets, and she relished the sensation of eating in her shirtsleeves.
Across from her, Kieran lounged back on his elbows. Sunlight fell on his face and neck where he had unbuttoned his shirt. “Actually, I spoke to him about it a few days ago.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Touched and oddly shy at the idea that he had planned their picnic in advance, she ducked her head. “This is one of the loveliest afternoons I’ve ever spent.”
“It’s not over yet.” Rising in one fluid motion, he held a hand out and assisted her to her feet. “There’s somewhere else I’d like to show you.”
“More surprises?” She brushed some dried bracken off the skirt of her riding habit. At his innocent expression, she rolled her eyes. “Very well, but it had better be as nice as this was.”
She spoke in a tone of mock severity, but he answered soberly. “I hope you think so.” His aqua eyes searched her face intently for a moment before he released her.
In the time they finished packing up the leftover food and utensils into their protective layers of straw and newspapers, the sun had shifted slightly to the west. Despite the warm afternoon, Kieran insisted they put their jackets back on. Picking up the carefully folded plaid from its place on the ground, he shook it out and rearranged it over his clothing.
Eyeing the woolen length, Diantha shook her head. “You’re going to roast.”
He shot a smile at her. “It’s important.”
“For what?” The smile widened to a grin as he shook his head and knelt to toss her into the saddle. After she mounted, she sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a remarkably stubborn man?”
“It has been mentioned, yes.” With a chuckle, Kieran climbed onto his horse and led them toward a hillock in the distance. Birdcalls and the buzz of insects filled the companionable silence between them.
As they drew closer, Diantha noticed that it seemed to be crowned with a ruin of some kind. She studied it as they approached along a barely discernable path through the heather.
