All because of me.
Chapter Six
Judith blinked, tryingto keep the tears from building in her eyes. Tristan had been the only brother of the three who she’d grown close to. Fate had been cruel to claim a wonderful man’s life.
She placed her hand on Trey’s forearm. “Please accept my sympathy. I will always have fond memories of Tristan. He was a kind man and will indeed be missed.”
A dark look passed over Trey’s face. “I thank you. Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated.”
He placed his hand over hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckle in comfort. Heated shivers ran through her, making her heart hammer. What on earth was wrong with her? She certainly didn’t agree with the pleasurable sensations dancing through her stomach.
Why did he look so handsome in his brown breeches and black knee-boots? But it was his cream-colored ruffled shirt, white cravat, and double-breasted brown tailcoat that made him appear majestic. He, in no way, resembled the highwayman she’d earlier thought him to be.
A trace of moisture formed in his eyes, but with a fast blink, it disappeared. An invisible tug pulled at her heartstrings. No. She mustn’t feel pity for him. Not after everything he’d put her through as a child, and would probably put her through as an adult.
A lump formed in her throat, making it impossible to swallow. His hypnotic gaze had her under his spell, a place she didn’t want to be. She firmly commanded herself to withdraw. Gathering her courage, she stepped away. His hand dropped to his side and relief poured through her.
The warmth in his eyes dwindled and within seconds was gone. His countenance suddenly became different from what it was a moment ago. Turning, he straightened his shoulders. When he walked ahead, she hurried to keep in step beside him.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. The crushing pain over the loss of her parents would overwhelm her again. The worst part was knowing Trey had experienced the same devastation when his brother died. They could share this time and talk about their feelings. If Trey would only allow it. Then again, Trey wasn’t the type of man who would share anything personal with a woman.
She studied his rugged features, from his square chin to his straight nose, and those irresistible lips. Again, she shook away the improper thoughts.
He cleared his throat. “So, I was a rotten boy, was I?”
Grateful he had steered them back to the topic she wished to discuss, she chuckled. “Rotten? What a polite word to describe you, my lord.”
Tilting his head back, he laughed. “I was worse?”
“Oh, yes. I was frightened out of my mind when you came near. Of course, the only time I feared for my life was when you tried to burn my hair.”
He turned his head to look at her. The melancholy in his eyes struck her as odd. Was he sorrowful for his past transgressions? She could only pray it was true.
“I did not mean to, Miss Faraday. It was an accident.”
She slowed her pace and arched an eyebrow. “You had a burning stick in one hand and my hair in the other. Pray, how was that an accident?”
“I only wanted to threaten you. Believe it or not, you were quite obstinate, and stubborn girls only tried my patience. I wanted you to leave, so I threatened to burn your hair. I never intended to actually do it, but the wind had other ideas.”
She reached up and patted her ringlets. “Indeed it had.”
“Let’s put all of that behind us now.” He flipped his hand through the air. “I would enjoy beginning afresh with you.”
Uncertainty filled her head, yet her heart did a silly flutter. “Why is that?”
“We are adults now. I promise not to singe your hair ever again.”
She laughed. “I would like it very much if we could be friends. It might take a while to forget the past, but I’m willing to try.”
“That is all I ask.”
Silence lasted only a few seconds as they turned down the path leading to the dowager’s flower garden. All around her, beautiful roses, lilacs, daisies and tulips decorated the grounds. It was as if the sun had poured golden light on the garden, infusing each flower with a heavenly scent. Closing her eyes, she took her time inhaling their sweetness. Her mother had a garden similar to this. The scent brought back pleasant memories.
When she opened her eyes, the gardener stood beside Trey, clipping a yellow rose. With a wide smile, he took the delicate blossom and offered it to her.
“Yellow is the color of friendship,” she said softly. “Are you aware of that, my lord?”
“Indeed, I am, which is why I’m offering this to you. Please accept this rose as a truce.”
