Captain Lightbourne had not breathed a word for miles, or dropped one hint of tenderness or affection, and so Cecilia had been supremely happy. To be near him, and to not have to hear him talk, was enough for her appreciation. She did not feel him particularly worthy to be spoken to—incapable of understanding, in fact, and therefore she encouraged the silence with her own.
The lane ambled through Devon’s soft fields toward the fat, dipping sun. Cecilia did not drive the horses fast, although their pace frustrated her, for she knew if they tired it would only slow the journey more. She considered unhitching them, leaving the carriage behind. But the animals had probably never been ridden before, and even if they had, the carriage contained no tack. Furthermore, Cecilia was dressed in colors and therefore could not possibly be seen on horseback.
They entered an oak wood, and the world became a poem ofluminous foliage and gentle, glimmering shadows. Ned had some time ago climbed into the carriage to rest from the strain of enduring Cecilia’s disdainful silence. The horses trudged on incuriously, allowing Cecilia to focus on seething. So the Wisteria Society thought she might become like Morvath, did they? Disempower her, must they? Treat her like she was a witless girl unable to defy her heritage and make a destiny of her own choosing, including vengeance for Cilla and the frightened grieving child she herself had been, ultimately claiming her rightful place at the senior table, with her own house—er, would they?
Well, she’d show them. After all, who had been kidnapped and who was in this carriage rushing (all right, plodding) to the rescue? By the time Cecilia was finished, the Wisteria Society ladies would be returned safely to their own houses, Morvath would be dead, and Gertrude Rotunder would be serving her tea while Jane looked on jealously from the junior ladies’ sofa.
Thus resolved, Cecilia brought out the emergency book she kept in a secret pocket of her dress, and read to calm her nerves while every now and again checking the road. So it was that a small but deadly band of highwaymen were delighted by the ease with which they were able to accost the carriage.
“Stand and deliver!” they shouted as they leaped from the bushes, swords raised and rifles pointed at the sweet young woman looking up wide-eyed from her volume of Wordsworth to behold their terrifying sight.
“Oh dear,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Sure I’ll find treasures under your skirts,” the brigand chief replied with a leer.
“How uncouth,” Cecilia remarked. “But I am in a hurry, so if you apologize I’ll let you go with no further trouble.”
The brigands had a good laugh at that. Which was quite nice, actually, for in the weeks to come they could barely speak, let alone chuckle.
“It’s a shame about your book,” Ned said to Cecilia as they drove from the woods into the sumptuous golden glory of sunset over East Devon. “I don’t think stuffing its pages down the throat of that brigand chief was likely to make him more eloquent.”
“One can only try,” Cecilia replied. “Besides, it was just Wordsworth.”
“Ah, no great loss, then. Although I should give the man some credit, he did compose the beautiful line ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud.’”
“Unless you believe the rumor that he actually wrote ‘lonely as a cow’ and his sister made him change it.”
They shared an amused glance, and suddenly Cecilia wondered what it would be like to be friendly with him. Chat lightly. Shake his hand. Have him reach out, take hold of her chin, and kiss her until she could no longer see straight. The thought shocked a hot blush through her, and she looked away in haste. Oblivious, Ned flicked the horses’ reins gently.
“You’re being too rough with them,” Cecilia snapped.
“They’re fine,” Ned answered.
“They’re noble beasts who don’t deserve whipping.”
“It’s a light touch of the reins. I do know how to handle horses.”
“I’m not so sure. I’m only allowing you to have a turn because there are no cliffs hereabouts that you can drive us over.”
“Ha ha. I must remind you, madam, that you are in my custody. I am the one who will do any allowing, should it be required.”
“It is endearing how you delude yourself.”
“I can tie you up if you’d like, to prove the point.”
“You can try.”
He gave her a speculative look, and again Cecilia imagined theirconversation turning more direct. Would he have gentle lips? Or would he kiss her with a bruising passion, his hand tangling in her hair, his tongue tangling in—
She choked on her breath, and Ned grinned as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
There followed a taut silence, during which no glancing at each other (and no kissing) took place. Eventually Ned frowned at the darkening horizon.
“We’ll have to find a place to stop soon.”
“We can drive right through the night,” Cecilia argued.
“The horses need rest.”
