Page 49 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
“For someone who is not actually from this part of England, you know an awful lot about Kenilworth,” she observed.
Piers cleared his throat. “When I went up to Oxford University, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to study. Theology bored me.” He gave Maggie a nervous grin.
She waved it away. “Papa knows the church is not for everyone. As a second son, he had the usual options. Military. Church. Or spending his days in Scotland trying to stay out of the way of his father. He felt a calling for the church.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to sound like I was belittling your father’s illustrious career. As the heir to the title of Viscount Denford, the church wasn’t really something I would have seriously considered. And I had no real interest in the army, either. I only eventually joined because it was meant to be for a short spell.”
She caught the bitterness in his words. Likely, someone had convinced Piers to take on the role of an officer, promising him that he was doing the right thing for his country and the war in Europe would soon be over.
But it isn’t over for him.
“When I arrived at Oxford, I decided to study something which held my interest, and that was the English Civil War. I got an education as well as a splendid opportunity to travel the countryside and visit many of the sites of the major battles. The fact that a number of them were close to home was a bonus.”
“I haven’t visited many places outside of London. Papa is always so busy with church business. When we do travel, it’s usually straight from London to Strathmore Castle, and then back again. I’m happy to admit I am envious of you,” she said.
He set the basket down and came to her side. When he slipped a hand about her waist, she stepped into his embrace, relieved that the earlier awkwardness in the carriage appeared to have passed. Piers bent under her hat and brushed a kiss on her cheek. He whispered, “Don’t worry about the envy part; just be happy. That’s all any of us should do.”
She lifted her head and smiled up at him. “You do say the loveliest of things. Perhaps that’s why I think you are the nicest man I have ever met.”
When Piers’s brows knitted together, Maggie could guess what he was thinking. He wanted her to think of him as being more than just nice. “Nice and rather dashing. Is that better?” she offered.
His low growl of need sent a frisson of heat racing down her spine. With a deft flick of her fingers, Maggie’s hat disappeared from her head. She rose up on her toes. “Or would you rather be a touch nice and naughty?”
The deep, toe-curling kiss he gave her was all the answer she could ever need.
Chapter Thirty
Piers and Maggie found a small, protected spot out of the wind at the base of the Strong Tower. A cluster of low shrubs added further protection from the elements.
He produced two bottles of ginger ale from the seemingly bottomless basket and handed one to Maggie. To his surprise, she promptly pulled the cork out with her teeth.
“I was going to open it for you,” he said.
“Old Scottish custom. Never stand on ceremony when it comes to food and drink. It’s best to have everyone watered and fed before the dancing,” she replied.
He hadn’t heard that saying before, but he couldn’t find fault with the logic. Piers was always on the hunt for his next meal.
Maggie lay the blanket out on a patch of dry ground. She then set to rummaging through the picnic basket. “Oh, cake! And those sandwiches look delicious.”
Piers leaned over the basket, scanning its contents. Had they packed the pickled pork and apple slices?
They better have packed them. Jonathan will eat them all if they have been left in the kitchen.
He breathed a sigh of relief as Maggie produced a square dish wrapped in a blue tea towel from the bottom of the basket. She lifted the cloth and peeked inside. “That looks interesting.”
Taking it from her hands, Piers removed the cover. He couldn’t help himself. He picked up a piece of the pork and apple with his fingers and swiftly stuffed it into his mouth.
“Piers Denford, where are your manners?” cried Maggie with a laugh.
She handed him a fork and a suitably admonished Piers slid it into the dish. He finished his mouthful, and they emptied the basket and laid two dinner plates on the blanket.
“The pork and apple spiced slices are a specialty of Jonathan and Elizabeth’s household cook. She prepares them every time I visit,” he explained.
“It looks a veritable feast. I don’t know if we are going to be able to eat it all,” replied Maggie. She held up her hand and pointed a finger in his direction. “Then again, we may succeed. My cousin Alex made mention of you at supper the night before we left London. He said you had quite the reputation at school when it came to food. Could finish a whole plate and still be sniffing around for more.”
He bit back a laugh. The bloody Marquis of Brooke. Trust him to tell Maggie all the good gossip from his time at Eton.
Settling on the blanket, next to her, he accepted the plate Maggie passed to him. Soon, sandwiches and cold meats were piled high on it.
