Page 49 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“Hiyah!” Miss Davies shouted.
The horses took off.
Marc gripped the back of the bench at first, a bit shocked, then relaxed as he noticed her expert handling. “Woo-hoo!” he shouted into the air.
Her laugh joined his. They raced out into the open air, on wide roads with no one else around. The air that breezed by was fresh and cool and the sky blue. The clouds most often present that time of year had cleared.
For a moment, he forgot all the reasons to be stressed about his situation, and he just enjoyed the company of this remarkable woman.
She tore down the road, out past any semblance of the busier parts of Town, until they at last reached a bit of countryside.
His shoulders relaxed. She slowed the horses, and they both sat back in relative peace as the phaeton clipped along the mostly empty road.
“I needed this.” She breathed in and out. “I’ve missed space.”
“I, too, apparently.” He shifted so his fingers fell onto her shoulder.
She moved in closer so that she was more pressed against his side, leaning into him. “This is nice. Thank you.”
“Again with the gratitude.”
“Would you rather I not be grateful?”
“I appreciate your manners, of course.” Marc looked down at the top of her head, which was snuggled up against him. “But I think I would prefer something a bit more fiery.”
She jerked up, her mouth open in amazement. “Fiery?” She laughed.
“Well, yes. I know you have it in you. You are the storm that will save a crop. The thunder that follows the flash of light. You could take down an entire town that stands in your way.”
Miss Davies’s mouth tugged downward. “That reminds me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Have I brought the real world crashing down upon us?”
“I’m afraid you have.” She adjusted so that she faced him. One hand still held the reins, maintaining control of the horses, which he found impressive.
“Here, look,” he said. “There’s a bit of shade. Should we rest the horses and talk over lunch?”
“Oh yes, let’s.”
She guided the horses to a shady spot. Marc helped her down, unhitched the horses, and then laid out a blanket under a tree. “This, my dear Miss Davies, is where we taste the beauty of Bartholomew and Sophie’s kitchen.”
She joined him on the blanket. The birds had flown to higher branches, but some still sang. The sun was warm and shaded by the leaves. The ground was soft. She tugged at several blades of grass.
Marc sat close, his grin growing as he handed her one small wildflower.
This picnic would be pleasant indeed.
Chapter Seventeen
By all appearances, Prince Marcwas interested in pursuing something more amorous than friendship. Or perhaps he was simply intrigued. Or, Rhi supposed, he could be bored. Or guilty. She sighed. But as he carefully set out the food, placing each item on a plate and pouring her cup full of wine, she could only be enchanted.
If he continued in this manner, she would find it more difficult to shield her heart.
So instead of focusing on the handsome prince who was becoming more and more difficult to resist, she focused on her more pressing news. Rhi handed him her letter. “This is bad news indeed.”
As Prince Marc skimmed through, his frown deepened. “These tunnels are dangerous, then? And do you know, or have you thought, of something to help?”
“There are new lanterns that don’t cause explosions. They’re called Davy lamps. I just happened upon them as I scoured the papers the other morning.”
