Page 45 of The Viscount's Promise
She melted. Her insides turned into a puddle of tender aching. “Oh,” was all she said again, this time in a whisper.
He reached out and grasped her hand. Her heart leapt in her chest.
“You truly don’t mind my presence so much, do you, Emily?”
She gazed down at their clasped hands. “No,” she managed. Then, more strongly, her fingers squeezing his, “No, I don’t mind in the least.”
He smiled down into her eyes. “Good.”
• • •
The remainder of the trip back to Willowhaven was filled with quiet chatter. It did not escape Emily, however, that neither London nor the subject of Daphne and Sir Tristan was mentioned once. Talk veered toward whatever was pleasant, as if they were both afraid to break this fragile peace that had settled between them. He kept her hand in his, releasing it when they came into view of the stables. Emily wasn’t sure what to make of this strange place their relationship had taken them. She only knew she was happier than she had been in too long.
Malcolm handed his horse over to a groom, and they moved off together to check that Violet was safely back at the stables. The mare was thankfully suffering no ill effects of her scare. She seemed quite content as a groom brushed her coat, and she accepted the apple Emily offered happily enough.
As Emily and Malcolm walked along the path for home, however, his steps slowed drastically. If she hadn’t known better, Emily would have thought he was trying to prolong their time together. A thrill shot through her. She fought to ignore it and failed abysmally.
“What will you do for the remainder of the afternoon?” he asked softly.
“I hardly know,” she replied. “It seems I have not had time to myself for ages. I believe I’ll check in on my mother first. After that I haven’t a clue.”
“Perhaps you can take up a new hobby,” he suggested, his tone light and teasing, and far from anything she had heard from him before.
She cast a dubious glance up at him. “And what would you suggest?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Fencing, maybe? Sword play? I saw some impressively old weapons hanging in Caleb’s study. Mayhap we can take them down and give them a go.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “You are being absurd.”
“And what is so absurd about it?”
“First off, I haven’t the strength to lift those great swords.”
He peered down at her, his lips pursed. “Hmm. Yes, you are quite petite. Then we can start you off on something small. A dagger, perhaps? So you cansmite thine enemiesor whatever the saying is.”
“And what enemies do you think I have here in Northamptonshire?” she asked as they entered the house, laughter coloring her voice.
“Well, there is that fellow Lord Randall,” Malcolm said with a decided twinkle in his dark eyes. “I do believe he could do with some smoting. Or is it smiting?”
Emily chuckled, but her laughter quickly transformed into a gasp of surprise as the man himself exited the drawing room doors just ahead of them.
“It appears the man has come to meet his fate,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. “Get out thy dagger, my lady.”
“Quiet,” she hissed, elbowing him in the side.
“Lord Morley, how fortuitous,” Lord Randall called out as he approached. “I have issued an invitation directly to Lady Willbridge and Lady Tarryton but had hoped to extend it in person to you. Oh. Lady Emily,” he said, his cool eyes swinging to her. “I didn’t see you there.”
Emily dipped her head in greeting, more to hide her mortified blush than anything. “Lord Randall,” she murmured. Malcolm’s arm tensed under her hand and she gave it a warning squeeze.
“As I was saying,” Lord Randall went on, “my wife and I have planned an elegant picnic for Monday afternoon. Your hostess has already given her consent to the scheme, and we are quite looking forward to having you all there. But I wished to extend an especial invitation to your lordship.”
“And Lady Emily as well, I assume,” Malcolm said, his voice chill.
Lord Randall blinked. “Lady Emily?”
“Certainly,” Malcolm went on, even as Emily’s hand tightened on his arm, desperate for him to stop. “As a daughter of the house, surely you would like to extend your especial invitation to her as well.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Lord Randall pronounced in a horrible monotone that suggested it was not his pleasure at all. He turned to Emily, his eyes narrowing. “Lady Emily, it would be my honor to have you join our party.”
