Page 44 of Slippers and Thorns
He ran his fingers through his hair as he wrestled with his emotions. The more he thought about it, the less he could persuade himself his anger was justified. Not that his pride would allow him to admit that in so many words.
“You can put him back in the regular lineup,” Michael relented. “I’ll behave myself.”
“Thank you, Mike,” Arabella said with a small smile.
“Just tell him to keep his hands off,” he added wryly.
Arabella grinned. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” she said. “Since the archery incident, he won’t even help me mount my horse. I have to arrange my rides so that stops will be near other people out of pure self-preservation. I think he’s afraid you’ll burn him at the stake if he so much as brushes me in passing.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Burning at the stake was outlawed in Daraigh a hundred years ago,” he added with a straight face.
Arabella’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him for a few moments before she realized that he was teasing. “Mike!” she scolded, reaching out to smack him playfully on the arm.
He caught her hand and used it to pull her closer. Now that he was sure his wife was stillhis, simmering anger be hanged. She could be indulged in hope, because he could think of much better uses of a moment alone than talking.
Arabella’s eyes widened as he leaned over to meet her in the middle of the space between them. Switching her hand to his left, he rested his weight on that elbow and moved his free hand behind her head, enjoying the feel of her hair between his fingers as he drew her face towards his. “Ella.”
“M-Mike?” she squeaked.
Just as his lips brushed hers, a shocked gasp sounded behind them. Sighing, Michael pulled back and looked over his shoulder to see who dared interrupt them.
“I come looking for you because someone told me they saw you go into the garden, and I find you withher!” Lady Charlotte pointed dramatically at Arabella.
Michael glanced over at Arabella, then refocused on the outraged noblewoman. “Alone with my wife, you mean?” he casually clarified. “I suppose it would have been more prudent to find a location with a door, but not nearly as romantic.” He gave Arabella a teasing grin which she shakily returned as she pushed up into a sitting position.
“I—I—” Lady Charlotte stammered.
“What do you need, milady?” Michael asked in a dismissive tone. “I’m afraid if you desire an escort someplace, you’ll need to find someone else – I’m a little busy at the moment.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and relaxed further into his elbow as he gazed contentedly at Arabella, who was staring down at the blanket in front of her.
Lady Charlotte flapped her mouth a few times. “Why, you—” She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were blazing. “I’m returning home today. I hope I never see you again,” she hissed.
Michael raised his hand in a careless wave. “Safe travels. I’m sure we’ll see you at Lord Percival’s wedding, in your red dress.” He winked. “Ella will most likely be in blue, but she’ll be stunning no matter what she wears.”
Too incensed to speak, Lady Charlotte merely huffed, clenched her fists, and stomped back to the path with her head held high.
“Good riddance,” Michael muttered. Perhaps he should have been more careful with how he handled a duke’s daughter, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Squeezing the hand that he still held, he smiled lazily as he reached once again for his lovely companion. “Now, where were we?”
To his surprise, Arabella leaned away and pulled her hand out of his. She began packing up the dishes from their lunch.
Michael pushed himself up and frowned at her. “Ella, what’s wrong?”
“I’m helping with the food distribution this afternoon,” she said. “And you have to meet the guild leaders. We should probably head back.”
“They can wait a few more minutes,” Michael argued.
“Besides, it’s been about forty minutes since we left. My minder is probably wending his way through the maze as we speak,” she babbled, still not meeting his eyes. “No sense making him worry.”
Arabella had invited him to lunch. She had certainly not had a problem with shooing away the servants, and, while startled, she hadn’t seemed reluctant when he tried to kiss herbeforethey were interrupted. Why on earth was she suddenly avoiding him?
Michael scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her waist. “If you’re worried about being seen, we could reconvene in my sitting room,” he murmured in her ear. “This evening, if you don’t think we have time now.”
She abruptly stood. “I’ll send one of the footmen to collect these things,” she said, ignoring his comment. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Then without even looking at him, let alone offering one final smile, she fled.
Michael propped up his elbow on his raised knee and rested his temple on his fist as he watched her go. “I don’t understand women,” he grumbled.
CHAPTER 19
