Fortune favors the bold ornithologist—which is to say, having a fortune will get you all the favors you need.
Birds Through a Sherry Glass, H.A. Quirm
Returning to thestation an hour later, they found the clerk leaning against the ticket desk, still smirking as he watched them trudge in. “Let me guess,” he said. “The price for horses has increased somewhat since yesterday.”
“Seven hundred pounds,” Devon said grimly. “And when we explained the situation was urgent, it went up to eight hundred. I’ve never encountered a more unscrupulous lot of people, and I teach university students.”
“We didn’t bother trying the whole town,” Beth explained. “We came back here to see if our associates left our luggage behind; then we’ll start walking.”
“I may be able to help you after all,” the clerk said. He glanced at something behind them; looking back, they saw only a black-suited, briefcase-toting gentleman of the type ubiquitous in England, standing farther down the platform as he innocently perused the train schedule. “As it happens, I have a horse you could borrow,” the clerk explained, drawing their attention again. “She’s old but still has a leg on her, and I’m willing to take—”
“Two hundred pounds,” Devon offered promptly. And, as the clerk hesitated, he added: “I’ll also fill out any necessary forms.In triplicate.”
—
“Only one horse.”Beth sighed as she watched Devon check the tack on an ancient gray mare. She tried to be glad for him that he’d obtained his own transport, but it was going to be averylong walk north to Canterbury, where the nearest train station was located.
On the other hand, she was relieved to be parting from the dastardly fellow. Men had always been vague shapes at the edge of her awareness, rambling on about sports or telling her how to do something she’d mastered in adolescence. The exception was Professor Gladstone, Beth’s head of department and former mentor. An octogenarian who smelled of pipe smoke and slightly damp tweed, he had eyes permanently narrowed from too much peering through binoculars and no small finger on his left hand after it was bitten off in the wilds of Colombia by a feral undergraduate suffering from coffee withdrawals. As a young woman, Beth had been awed by the professor, but his repeated suggestions that she try to smile more and show her intelligence less, so as not to intimidate her male peers, destroyed that feeling. And no other man had even approached her interest.
Devon Lockley, on the other hand, had literally dive-bombed it, then set up camp right in the middle of her brain. And worse—after just two days in his company she’d begun using loose language, arguing, even veering dangerously close to banter. Much more of this and she might becomesassy. Going their separate ways was entirely wise, sensible, proper, andother words found in the index of an etiquette manual. It was only that the prospect of blistered heels from her damp shoes weighed heavily on her mood.
She summoned a bright smile. “I wish you good luck,” she told Devon pleasantly. “If you happen to meet Hippolyta, would you please pass on my regards?”
“Tell her yourself,” Devon said without glancing back as he arranged the stirrup.
The words struck Beth like a punch to the stomach. Her smile became so bright it might have served as a lighthouse, warning against hidden rocks.
“Well,” she said. “Goodbye.”
She waited a second, perhaps a second and a half, before concluding he was going to ignore her. Then widening her smile to a degree that hurt, she turned away.
Devon caught her by the wrist, and she looked back at him confusedly. A similar confusion creased his face.
“Imeant, ‘tell her yourself when we catch up to her.’ ”
Beth’s mind went blank, all its protocols lost in surprise. “Oh.”
Devon angled his head, regarding her with a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Did you think I’d just abandon you in Dover?”
“Why not?” she asked. “I’d abandon you, were the situation reversed.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Besides, if I left you here, you’d probably blunder into a group of smugglers and be so busy apologizing for having disturbed them that you’d fail to notice they’d tied you up and shipped you off to scrub floors for some crime lord in Australia.”
“I wouldn’t mind going to Australia,” she said primly. “I’ve always wanted to see the fanged emu.”
Devon rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, and Beth warmed at the sight of it. Before she could chide him (or, God help her, giggle) he set his hands on her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Astonished, disoriented,steamy, Beth caught hold of the saddle horn to keep her balance. Devon swung up behind her, and as his body pressed against hers, she went from steamy to flaming hot faster than an active volcano.
“I…sorry…I can ride astride,” she said.
“Sure,” Devon answered easily. He waited while she squirmed, shuffled, and tugged at her long skirts, trying to rearrange herself without revealing too much leg.
“Um,” he added after a moment, clearing his throat.
“Er,” he said shortly thereafter.
Then suddenly he was dismounting, his boots hitting the ground with a decidedthump. Confused, Beth looked down at him as he pressed his forehead against the horse’s flank.
“Is something the matter?” she inquired.
