Page 24 of The Boxer’s Belle

“I’ll agree with you there.” Bella turned on her heels to make her way back to Effie.

West’s answering laugh followed her across the field.

When Bella reached Effie’s side, the woman had already spread a blanket across the grass and begun setting the contents of her basket across it. The tempting scent of hearty pasties washed over her.

“You should not have.”

“Any excuse to spoil you—both of you.” Cheeses, a flagon of cider, pasties, and fresh apples covered the blanket, and Effie was still removing delights from her oversize basket. “Sit! Sit! I best be getting back to your father, but you two deserve a break.”

“Are you certain you cannot join us?” Bella asked, even as the other woman backed away.

“Nonsense. I’ve so many chores…”

“Such as?” Disbelief was clear in West’s tone

“So many chores.”

“Of course, Mother. So many chores.” He dragged his fingers across one brow. “Thank you for the food,” he added as he turned back to Bella with a gesture to sit before joining her on the opposite corner of the woolen blanket.

“She’s not…”

“Matchmaking?” he supplied. “Afraid so.”

“I’m not certain how to feel about that.”

West snagged a bit of cheese and popped it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then reached for the cider and a mug. “Nothing to fret over. It’s not as though anything will come of it,” he said, studying his hands as he poured with a fascination the action did not warrant.

“True.” With great effort, Bella imbued the word with undue enthusiasm. She took the tin mug as West handed it over and indulged in a heavy swig. “And for some reason, you are her favorite person in the world—I should be grateful she’s trussed you up for me.”

“I’m quite charming once you get to know me.” That infuriating little dimple appeared on his cheek.

“And modest too. It is a slight concern, though—that your mother has so little opinion of my discernment.”

West’s head fell back on a laugh as the rest of him unfurled, shoulders unclenching, legs straightening.

“There’s no risk of false modesty—not in your presence. She really ought to speak to Pa, though. He warned me off you again, just the other day.” He dropped the intelligence breezily before snatching an apple and biting a revoltingly large chunk from it.

“I beg your pardon? Again?”

West turned his gaze back on her, expression incredulous. “You didn’t suppose all that time we spent together went unnoticed, did you?”

“I—”

“Oh, yes. Lady Arabella, you were my grand youthful rebellion. The fence on that back pasture broke near weekly toward the end—great mystery that.” He tipped his head east, to the old field Bella had all but forgotten. “Anything to keep me from making eyes at you.”

Bella’s cheeks heated and she took a bit of cheese as a distraction. “I hadn’t thought anyone noticed.”

“They noticed. They just knew it didn’t mean anything to you. No point in warning the diamond away from the thief.” He gave the apple another chomp.

His sentiment wound its way through Bella’s mind, uneasy there for a reason she couldn’t immediately name. Not once had anyone urged her away from West. She knew, of course, that if her father had discovered her infatuation there would have been hell to pay. But she’d assumed her feelings—whatever they were—had escaped others’ notice. Apparently, that had not been West’s experience.

“Don’t fret—everyone knew it was only on me,” he added.

It wasn’t. The denial lingered on the edge of her tongue, trapped only by the meager pride she scrabbled together in his presence.

Instead, she reached for a pasty.

West shifted, leaning back on a palm. It was truly unfair—the way his open shirt pulled against his damp, muscled chest.