Page 47 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Belle’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Why, she’d never run from anything in her life.
Until Gideon had given her no choice.
She knew his secret. She had seen his duplicity with her own eyes. She had heard his cruel, cutting words. And she knew beyond a doubt that he’d only wanted her as a means to attain a piece of her father’s fortune.
The truth had sent her on a mad dash. She’d had to escape. From him. From the aunt who’d betrayed her. From a future of treachery.
What could Ellie’s aunt possibly know about Gideon that she didn’t?
Drawing in a calming breath, she pushed the unsettling thoughts to the back of her mind and fixed her attention on the child in her care. She had no experience as a governess, but at this moment, it was just as well. What Carrie needed most was affection and attention and someone who gave a fig about her.
My, she was a beautiful little girl. With her sparkling dark eyes and chestnut-brown hair, she could see a resemblance to Jon. Carrie danced about the garden like a little pixie, singing a happy, slightly off-key melody. In her soft, high-pitched little voice, she made up a tune as she went, blending bits of nursery rhymes together into one lyric. Such a clever child.
Despite the worries running wild in her thoughts, she met Carrie’s innocent smile with one of her own. A smile from the heart.
For a moment, her mind wandered, drawing from the pleasantness of the scene. What would it be like to have a child of her own? A sweet girl with moppet curls who possessed apenchant for mischief. Or a boy with a sly sense of humor and a knack for wrapping his mama around his finger.
Someday.
She smiled to herself, soothing her aching heart with the thought. Someday, she would marry a man who would be the right one for her.Someday.
The steady tap of Mrs. Gilroy’s cane gently brought her back to reality. “I thought ye’d want to know Mr. Mason has returned home.” Mrs. Gilroy made her way onto the garden terrace, her expression brightening as she surveyed the scene. “I see the young lass has learned to amuse herself without making such a mess.”
Belle motioned to the bench. “Won’t you join us?”
A look of surprise flashed over the housekeeper’s features at the invitation. She gave her head a small shake. “I’ve put supper on. I’ll be on my way. I need to tend the stew.”
“How might I assist with the preparations?”
Mrs. Gilroy’s brow creased. “Ye meant what ye said, didn’t ye, lass?”
It was Belle’s turn to be surprised. “About helping out with the daily tasks?”
A faint smile tugged at Mrs. Gilroy’s thin mouth. “After what happened with the soup, I’d wondered if ye’d have second thoughts.”
Belle met the old woman’s smile with one of her own. “I’m not a gambler, but I would wager that won’t be happening again.”
“I’d agree the odds are rather low,” Jon said, strolling onto the terrace. “But I would not rule it out.”
“Perhaps this time you will be the one in the danger zone,” she replied.
“I will hurl myself in front of you to take the brunt of the assault,” he quipped. “After all, I am a gentleman.”
She cocked a skeptical brow. “And so very chivalrous.”
Belle’s gaze swept over him from his neatly clipped dark hair to his polished black boots. The shadow of new beard drew her eye to the strong lines of his jaw and chin, while his charcoal-gray suit, though tailored for a man in the world of business, could not conceal the power in his lean body. The cut of his jacket accented the breadth of his shoulders and the power in his muscular arms.
With a blink to clear her thoughts, Belle forced herself to look away, to stop herself from drinking him in. As he neared her on the garden bench, he paused and smiled down at Carrie. He crouched low, holding himself at eye level with the child. “Is that the doll I brought you from Scotland?”
The girl nodded enthusiastically. “I like her very much.”
“I’m happy to see that.” His grin seemed quite genuine. “You were a good girl for Miss Belle and Mrs. Gilroy today, were you not?”
Carrie nodded again, then slanted Belle a shy look. “Miss Belle read me a story, and I taught my dolly to dance.”
“I did hear your song,” he said, rising to his full height. “You remind me very much...” He raked a hand through his hair and glanced away. “I like to hear you sing.”
Carrie reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Will you tell me a story tonight?”
