Page 62 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
The longer he was exposed to this unreliability, the more he found he liked it. Not knowing what she would do next. Not knowing what was running through her head—striving to discover it.
And so, on the next day, balmy and warm, he was only mildly surprised to find her in the hallway after breakfast, holding a woven basket and beaming at him.
“I thought we should walk.”
“Is that so?” He had not fully intended to smile, but he found her expression so infectious that he could not help returning it. “And why is that?”
“Because it is a delightful day and because it is good for our health. Being in the country necessitates walking.”
She danced forward to place her hand underneath his arm, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the basket weighed her down.
“What’s that?” he asked, nodding to it.
“Our picnic, of course.” She laughed at the confusion on his face. “Have you never gone on a picnic before? I had the cook make a basket.”
“I may not have gone on a picnic in recent memory, but I am certain these picnics did not include ladies hauling heavy baskets out into the countryside,” he said, taking the basket from her. “Were you planning on taking this the whole way?”
“I was, but I thought we might stop in the strawberry fields to see if any are ripe.” One hand on her bonnet, she rested her head briefly against her shoulder. “I confess, I’m intrigued to know if you’re as much of an expert in a strawberry patch as you are amongst weeds.”
He scowled at her. “Is this merely a ruse to convince me to take off my shirt?”
“Is it working?” She giggled, and he thought distantly that he would never be able to get enough of that sound, even if he bottled it and listened to it every day for the rest of his life.
“Notout in a strawberry patch,” he said firmly.
Her expression turned wicked. “Then perhaps when we return home?”
Last night, uncertain of their truce and unwilling to break their fragile peace, he had not come to her room, and she had not come to his. The thought that she mightwanthim to come to her made heat run down his spine. No lady had ever made him feel like this.
The last time they had been together, he had awoken with her in his arms. There had been harmony inside him, peace, for the first time in years. Perhaps even in a decade, since his mother had perished in the fire he had never managed to forgive himself for.
There was no one else around, so he cupped her cheek and pulled her to him for a sweet kiss. It tasted like honey. “Yes,” he murmured. “Perhaps when we return home.”
“If I had known that,” she whispered against his mouth, “I would not have been so hasty to suggest we leave.”
At that inopportune moment, Rickard descended the stairs. He, naturally, had been invited to join them, and although Adam found the prospect of sharing his wife distinctly irritating, he had to admit that it was a stroke of genius on her part. This way, they would contrive to learn more about one another without such a formal setting. Dinner the other night had been… fine. But this would be a more relaxed setting for them both.
“Rickard,” Emmeline said, clearly delighted, and Adam quashed the foolish spark of jealousy.
There was nothing about her tone or her smile that suggested she harbored any feelings for Rickard. He would have to get his emotions under control.
If only she wasn’t so free with her smiles.
And if only his half-brother was less charming with his.
“Brother,” Rickard said, and twin spots of color formed on his cheeks. “It sounds odd, doesn’t it, to call each other ‘Brother?’”
“For the present,” Adam agreed and nodded at the door. “Emmeline has suggested we walk.”
“Then I’m certain we would have more fun doing that than anything else,” Rickard said gallantly, taking his place on her other side.
Adam led Emmeline out of the house, and the three of them followed the path through the gardens to the strawberry field east of the castle.
* * *
Picking strawberries had been a stroke of genius, Emmeline reflected as she watched the men confer and squabble over which strawberries were the best. Adam placed himself as an expert, but in a move that felt altogether too much like siblings, Rickard objected to almost every strawberry that Adam selected.
Emmeline bathed in the sunlight and allowed herself to watch them. They were both handsome men, but Adam by far dwarfed Rickard in every aspect but geniality, and she had spent enough time with Adam now to know how much of that he concealed within himself.
