Page 3 of The Lord's Compass
“No,” he said with a pointed stare. “It is not. How would it look if I returned with you carrying everything and me alone?”
Her mirth quickly took a turn to annoyance once more. “That is your concern? How it would look to others?”
Goodness, she was beautiful when she was all fired up like this. He just wished it wasn’t in such anger towards him. She hadn’t always been like this. She used to be much sweeter and would allow him lenience she didn’t to any others. But everything had changed between them now, and the vibrant charm of before had transformed into ire that always appeared to be directed toward him.
“Just give me the bag,” he said, holding his arm out, and she reluctantly slid it off her shoulders and passed it to him.
“It’s called a quiver.”
“I know.”
He set his feet toward the house and paused, looking over to her, needing her to lead but determined not to tell her so.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This way,” she said, pointing down the path to the right.
“I know the way.”
“Lord Ferrington, everyone knows that you should not be out wandering alone. I wish you would realize it as well.”
“I am not a child.”
“Are you not?”
“No,” he said indignantly, “of course not.”
For the first time, however, her words unsettled him. For as rude as she had been to him over the past two years, they had never had the opportunity for such a long conversation alone. She had made sure of it.
Now that they had, he wondered if their relationship should have remained as it had been – distant.
* * *
Faith hatedhow much he disconcerted her.
As he walked beside her, her quiver on his back, she became increasingly annoyed at how much his presence affected her.
There was a good few feet between them, and yet it seemed as though she could sense the heat from his body radiating across the short distance. He had always had such magnetism. It was more than the size of his body. It was the way he carried himself, the heartiness of his laughter, his ability to say what he thought without restriction.
He was everything she wanted to be.
And everything she could have had if only things had been different.
But the man he was – the flirt, the charmer – was the very reason they were not together. For she was selfish. She didn’t like sharing – most especially him.
Which was why she tried to distance herself from him, for seeing him with other women only made everything worse.
“I know where we are now,” he said as they turned onto the path toward the house.
“I should hope so,” she said wryly. “This takes you straight to the terrace.”
“Where would you like me to take your bow and arrows?”
“I can take them from here,” she said, holding out her hands, but he shook his head, his dark hair, too long for the style of the day, but of course annoyingly charming on him, sliding over his forehead.
“I am far too much of a gentleman to allow you to do so.”
“Oh, you are a gentleman now?”
“Always have been,” he said jovially, his devilish dimples deepening. “That’s what the title of earl gets you.”
