Page 9 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
She peered up into his face, which was frozen with shock. God, but this was awkward. Should she say something? Were they going to sit here forever on his horse, just—
Abruptly, the corners of his eyes crinkled, while those of his mouth turned up, and the next thing Elissa knew, Edward had thrown his head back and was laughing uncontrollably.
This was apparently an unusual turn of events, because his horse cocked his ears back and skittered to the side. Elissa had released her grip on Edward’s neck while they were sitting still, and was forced to grab him again to maintain her balance. He responded by wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. His chest shook with uncontainable mirth, and her face wound up buried in his neck.
After a minute, Edward managed to compose himself enough to say, “Steady, Bucephalus.” His horse calmed immediately, and he loosened his grip on her. She looked up to find him grinning broadly.
Dimpleswas the only thought Elissa’s frozen brain was capable of forming. Edward Astley was handsome enough without trying, with his thick dark hair and otherworldly blue eyes. But to have him smiling at her, at close range, with those dimples?
It was literally stunning.
He should be made to wear a placard around his neck:Staring directly into the dimples poses a great risk to a woman’s sanity.
Elissa shook herself. “Stop laughing at me!”
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m—” He promptly disproved this statement by dissolving into another gale of laughter.
“Laughing at me,” Elissa muttered.
“If you could have seen your face,” he said, struggling to regain control of himself.
“Humph.”
“I suppose I am laughing at you, but not for the reasons you think. I’m laughing at your wit. And your adorably horrified expression.”
Adorably?What on earth wasthatsupposed to mean?
She felt a few scattered raindrops on her face. He stuck out a hand, noticing them as well. He nudged Bucephalus forward. “I look forward to reading your ode, Miss Elissa, although I regret to inform you that your title will not do.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. Firstly, the word you want is notharpyia. Clearly the term you are looking for isseir?n.”
“Remind me of the passage in which Homer described the bugs living in the sirens’ hair.”
He ignored her. “And then there’s this business about Prince Charming—”
“Prince Charming is apropos. We do get the papers out here, even if they’re a week late. I know very well it is your nickname.”
“An entirely unfounded nickname, I assure you.”
“You just rescued a damsel in distress. You even ride a white horse!” Some strange and entirely improper impulse had her poking him in the ribs as she said this.
He gave a ticklish flinch but was smiling at her. “There’s no such thing as a white horse. Horses that appear white are considered to be grey.”
“A white horse,” she insisted, “whom you have namedBucephalus.” Bucephalus being, of course, the famed steed of no less a prince than Alexander the Great.
Edward groaned, giving her a look that was equal parts grin and glower. “Idid not name him Bucephalus. He was a gift from my brother-in-law, Lord Thetford, who runs a breeding establishment. He thought it a lark to see me riding around on a white horse named Bucephalus—”
“Because you are Prince Charming, and everyone knows it.Quod erat demonstrandum.”
“I do not concede,” he said, flashing his dimples at her again.
She clutched her heart and recited, “‘The oracle decreed that he should be lord of the world, whom Bucephalus would suffer to sit upon his back.’”
His smile was soft and held a touch of wonder. “I am trying to give you a stern look, as it is positively unsporting of you to tease me. But I find I cannot glower at anyone who quotes Quintus Curtius Rufus from memory.”
Emboldened, Elissa pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “‘O, Alexander, seek out a kingdom suitable to the greatness of thy heart, for Macedonia is too small for thee!’”
