Page 16 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Ah, the delight of mystery.”

She scowled at him. “You’ll see it when you see it.”

“Yes, that is the way of the eyes, isn’t it?”

Exasperated, Margaret walked off in search of Henry, mayhap to admonish him for the wink he gave her earlier.

Once the two had saddled up, Margaret took the lead and Jonathan was content to follow, watching her slender back taper into that familiar trim waist. Perhaps content was the wrong word. Simmering with lust that at any moment might evolve into a raging boil was a much more accurate word.

Passing the pond, Jonathan called out, “Slow down.”

Margaret pretended not to hear, even though she was only a few strides in front of him.

“Margaret?” He shouted too loud for her to ignore.

She turned her head and plastered a fake sweet smile on her face. “Yes, Jonathan?”

The fake sweetness pinched his gut. He much preferred her authentic self, and he’d take her ire and fire over this.

“What about the pond?”

“What about it?” She waited.

He waited.

“It’s just a pond,” she eventually ceded.

“Yet I feel drawn to it.” He sighed. He couldn’t understand the connection to the pond himself, how could he begin to share it with someone else?

Out of his periphery, he caught her head turn. He couldn’t read the emotion she had masked. She had silenced her eyes. Whatever she was hiding, some of it had to do with the pond.

He shrugged his shoulders and heard a loud harrumph as he did so.

“It’s just a pond Jonathan. Let’s go.” She took off in a gallop.

He had no choice but to follow until several minutes later she had finally stopped at a tall tower.

As he watched her fling herself off her horse, he thought he saw her wiping her eyes. Maybe some tears from the wind.

“It’s the folly,” Jonathan announced. “Of course, I remember this from when Gregory and Mary had their wedding here just at the end of summer.”

“Wasn’t it beautiful,” Margaret had her arms outstretched and her head thrown back.

The sun was lingering on her cheeks, reluctant to move. He could feel the sparkle returning to her eyes more than he could see it.

“It is,” he said more about her than the wedding. He had meant to use his rich, grown up, baritone voice, but instead the two words emerged from somewhere in his throat. He hoped she hadn’t heard, or would at least pretend not to hear those two words, so he could try again.

But when she turned to him with her bewildered look, he knew his hopes were in vain. “It’s so beautiful because my father built it for my mother as a symbol of love. It is a testament to love.”

“So it is,” he said with more depth to his voice this time.

“Should we climb to the top?”

“Of course,” Jonathan grinned.

Upon reaching the top, the two were out of breath and nary an arm’s length apart. She was smiling so brightly the sun was eclipsed. “I beat you.”

He cocked his head. “To the top?”

---