Page 34 of The Trials of Alaric
The boatmaker’s wife seized him by the shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek, which she then patted. “Thank you, Mr. Redhaven. You’ll do.”
He grabbed his coat and cravat and returned to the castle. Colyn was waiting for him, and there was time for a hot bath and to dress, but not much more. Alaric was not the first in the drawing room, where they were gathering before dinner. He was the first of the suitors. But no. Wait. Beverley was there, in the corner, admiring himself in the mirrored backboard of a tall whatnot.
“Cousin Beverley cannot seem to walk past a mirror.” The wry comment came from Bea, who had stepped up beside him. “He is in love with himself.” He met her gaze and smiled at her. The room suddenly seemed brighter and warmer.
Love. And yes, just so. I have gone and done it, he realized.I have fallen in love with Lady Beatrice Collister.
But then, he realized what she had just said.Ah yes! Beverley’s in love with himself. The thought triggered another. “His love affair with himself,” he repeated, out loud.
Chapter Fourteen
Bea had thesame idea as him. He could see it in her face as her eyes widened and a grin spread. “Narcissus,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He fell in love with his own handsome reflection. A victim, he, of beauty’s snare…Lost at a glimpse. Young man, beware…and then something about still water.”
Alaric nodded. He was grinning, too. It was the answer to the third clue. Now all he had to do was find the painting or statue or whatever it was that pictured the impossibly handsome young hunter of Greek mythology, who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of still water.
“I know where it is,” Bea said. “I shall show you in the morning.”
“Your father doesn’t want—”
“Leave it to me. I will think of something.”
She would, too.My Bea can solve any problem put before her. His Bea? Not yet. He had to win the trials, or at least place in the top three. And he had to convince Bea that her future lay with him.
They were interrupted by Fairweather and Meadowsweet, the conversation became general, and then Alaric was assigned to take one of Beverley’s sisters into dinner. Even so, one part of Alaric’s mind kept thinking of ways to convince Bea he was the right consort for the Lady of Claddach. The kiss was all very well. No. That wasn’t it. The kiss had been amazing, spectacular,world changing. But Bea wouldn’t be swayed, he was certain, by further kisses, however exceptional. She was intelligent and focused, with a sense of responsibility for and to her people and her land. Kisses were nice, but hardly important to the running of an island. He would have to appeal to her mind—and especially to her sense of duty. Also, she wanted a partner. Not someone who would try to be earl in all but name, leaving her without an opportunity to use her knowledge and her acumen, but someone who would support her abilities while allowing her to be countess.
He’d rein his desire in, Alaric decided, and focus on how well they worked together. If he could, for his admiration and his desire seemed to set fire to one another—the more he respected her, the more he wanted to bed her. And that kiss had only reinforced his admiration for all her sterling qualities.
In the train of the British envoy to the royal court of Portugal in exile in Brazil, he had attended many a grand dinner. He could hold a pleasantly flirtatious conversation and handle successive courses without giving either his full attention. When it was time to turn to the lady on his other side, he did so.
In this case, she was the daughter of a man Lord Claddach called, “the biggest farmer on the island, apart from myself.” He had been introduced while they were in the line to enter the dining room.
“Are you having a pleasant evening so far, Miss Kewish?”
“Yes, Mr. Redhaven,” she answered, but more as if it was the polite response than with any enthusiasm.
Alaric set himself to find a topic that would relax her and encourage her to talk. “Were you at the fête, today? It was very crowded. I did not know the island had that many people!”
“I was,” she answered, and then confided, “I saw you there. I had a rose in the contest for best bloom.”
“Did you, indeed? Let me think. The lady who won was from the other side of the island. A neighbor, perhaps?”
“It was Mrs. Stean from our village,” she said. “Hers was very lovely, was it not? She was the one who first made me interested in growing roses, and she has been so supportive. I did not expect my rose to beat hers, but I am proud to have been a finalist.”
“That is why your name sounded familiar,” Alaric commented. “I heard it read out. I do apologize, Miss Kewish, for not remembering.”
“I daresay you heard a great number of names today, Mr. Redhaven,” she replied, making his excuses for him.
“Tell me about your rose,” he said. “Is it very difficult to grow them?”
That was all it took. She chattered away cheerfully, until she suddenly realized she had been doing all the talking. “But Mr. Redhaven, you cannot be interested in all this.”
“On the contrary,” he replied, honestly. “I love to listen to people who are truly knowledgeable about their topic. I have learned a great deal that way. Witness tonight. I had no idea that roses bloom more reliably on Claddach if they are grown on a certain root stock.”
He chuckled. “I cannot say when that will become useful, but if it does, I shall be sure to remember you, Miss Kewish, and be grateful.”
She gifted him with a sweet smile. “You are kind to say so. However, it is surely time for you to tell me about your driving passion. I am sure that you will be interesting, even if itishorses.”
Had Howard, who was on the lady’s other side, been prosing on about his horses again? “I do appreciate a good horse,” Alaric admitted. “I would not call it a driving passion, though. Perhaps I have not yet found mine.”
