Page 53 of To Love A Spy
Was the past always to be a wedge between them?
For a time last night, there had seemed to be an understanding between them, a comfortable camaraderie that had banished the old conflicts. But whatever quicksilver spell had brought them together had dissolved in the blink of an eye.
Swallowing a sigh, he pushed back from the table. “Then I shall see you at luncheon.”
“Where are you off to at this early hour?” she asked eyeing his buckskin breeches and boots. “Have you no meetings at the ministry this morning?”
“The talks have been put off until the morrow,” replied Lynsley. “So I thought I would take a ride out through the Bois de Boulogne.”
He had, in fact, been visiting the vast stretch of woodland and bridle paths nearly every day at dawn since their arrival. It was always prudent to have an escape route planned, and he had also found an isolated spot where he could exercise without fear of prying eyes observing his every move.
She bit her lip, the warring of pride and longing clearly writ on her face.
Asking for a favor did not come easily to her, he thought. She would eat nails before she begged to come along.
He strolled to the door before turning to ask, “Would you care to accompany me?”
“A breath of fresh air would be welcome,” she replied, matching his nonchalant tone. However, she rose like a shot. “I shall just be a moment in dressing.”
“I will have Bailin saddle your filly.”
A half hour later, they passed through one of the ancient gates erected by King Henri III into the forestlands, followed at a discreet distance by his valet.
“A rather rough area, “ she remarked, seeing several ragged figures slink back into the trees.
“Like many enclaves of theancien regime, the Bois has fallen on hard times,” said Lynsley. “However it has a long and storied history. In medieval times, it was the site of several monasteries, including the powerful Longchamp Abbey. Part of the forest was then sold to the Crown to create a royal hunting ground.” He gestured to a wide, straight path cutting through a rustic field. “During the time of Louis XIV, a series of walkways were made, and it became a very fashionable place for strolling and celebrations.”
She slanted a bemused look at him from beneath the curling ostrich plumes of her hat. Her stylish new riding clothes—a deep green fitted habit with military frogging and fringed epaulets, topped off by a jaunty little shako—suited her striking looks to perfection. With the breeze ruffling her curls and the sunlight sparkling in her eyes, she looked like a glorious goddess of the forests.
Diana, the Huntress.
There were certainly times when she was prickly as a quiver of arrows.
It was his job to see that the huntress did not become the hunted.
A light laugh floated through the air. “A history lesson?”
“Sorry. I did not mean to bore you with dusty details.”
“No, please go on. I like listening. You always know such fascinating things.” Again, an odd sort of expression flitted over her features. “Is thereanyperson or place about which you can’t speak about intelligently?”
You.The word nearly slipped from his lips. In truth, she defied all attempts to define or describe with dispassionate logic. His powers of reason retreated when she was near, leaving him . . .
Confused, conflicted.
And so, as usual, he took refuge behind a shield of steely self-control.
“A great many I should think,” he replied lightly. “But the Bois is not one of them.”
Her mouth took on a mischievous cant. “Do proceed.”
Was she merely teasing him? Lynsley found he didn’t care. It was good to see her lighthearted and laughing like a young girl. Reining in his horse, he cut across the grass to one of the side paths, a narrow way lined on either side by a thick hedge of bushes.
“Henri IV had 15,000 blackberry bushes planted here, in hopes of raising silkworms,’ he continued. “A plan that did not quite hatch.”
“And so the place spun into decline?” she murmured.
He grinned. “Yes, during the Hundred Years War, it became the refuge of outlaws and cutthroats. Francis I, who built the Chateau de Madrid in 1526, restored its regal air.”
