Page 88 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
He didn’t care why she was with him; he would just enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He let himself move with the horse as he inhaled the scents of grass and flowers.
Before long, she said, “We’re at our perfect picnic place.”
“And where is that?” he asked.
“A hillside overlooking the manor. The green pasture seems to go on forever here.”
“I think I know the place.”
He dismounted slowly so that he wouldn’t misjudge the ground and fall on his face. Although he wanted to help her down, he didn’t trust himself to keep his hands from lingering.
She spread a blanket and guided him to it, then served him foods easily eaten by hand—fruit, chicken, and cheese. The lemonade was still cold, and he guzzled it until it ran down his chin. She just laughed and handed him a napkin.
This could not last, he told himself. She would be gone someday, and these would be memories that he cherished. He didn’t mind her constant need to help him; he liked being the focus of her energy, of her attention.
Always, there was her scent, teasing his senses. He lay on his side, head propped on his elbow, content to be with her, to pretend that his life was as it used to be. The desire for her that was always with him simmered just beneath the surface. He tantalized himself imaging how he would spread her out on the blanket, the ways he would delve beneath her garments.
“Simon?”
He realized that she was calling his name—might even have said it more than once. Rolling onto his back, he flung an arm over his eyes and smiled. “Just wool gathering,” he said.
“So will you agree to allow the servants to build railings? Surely you can see how handy they would be.”
“They’d be in everyone’s way,” he said.
Louisa could not decipher Simon’s mood, though his words were thoughtful. He seemed lazy and content, now that he’d at least made himself ride again. Did he protest her plan just to argue with her?
“Everyone would get used to them,” she said, glad she didn’t have to pretend not to watch him. He looked big all stretched out on the blanket. His feet hung off, his elbow bumped a plate of chicken, but he didn’t move.
“I’ll think about it.”
She wanted to groan her frustration. She saw his mouth quirk up in laughter.
“All right, if you won’t discuss the railings, let’s discuss the village assembly this weekend.”
“More people watching us? I vote we don’t go.”
“I understand that,” she said softly, picking at a piece of grass between her fingers. “I don’t want to go either.”
“You know Keane won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure no one else does either.”
“You can’t always be my protector, Simon.” She only wished that. “And you can’t hide in the manor either.”
“So you think insults will work on me?”
“Georgie told me she wants to go. I think she’s braver than both of us.”
He grunted his answer.
She told him about her conversation with his sister. “But oh, I can’t repeat all of it.”
He sat up, leaning back on his hands. “Just say it.”
“Georgie said that although you may not want your own household, she does.”
“I have my own home,” he said crossly.
“I told her that. And her response was that it’s a lonely bachelor home and that’s why you’re living with your grandmother.”
