Page 33 of The Major's Mistake
Julian made no attempt to pick up the threads of their earlier conversation. It would be hard enough later to unravel his feelings about this newest confrontation concerning the past, but at the moment, he was content just to feel the soft curves of her body close to his and take in the faint perfume of fresh lavender in her hair.
After the initial shock of such intimate contact, she had slowly relaxed against his chest, the warmth of her body seeping in through his coat, her breath feathering against the upturned corners of his shirtpoints. For some unaccountable reason, a ghost of a smile flitted across his lips as his arms tightened ever so slightly.
It was way past dark when the two horses came to a halt before the steps of the small manor house. The heavy oak door swung open at the sound of the hooves on the stones, and Lady Thornton came to the top step, her face wreathed in concern.
“Miranda!” she exclaimed as Sykes jumped down and assisted her niece down from the Marquess’s arms. “I had begun to grow worried.’ Her gaze met his. “Thank you, Julian. I must say, I do not like the idea of her out unescorted after dark.”
“Aunt Sophia, I am known here,” protested Miranda. “And besides, there is precious little for anyone to steal from me, as they can well see. I have nothing of value to take.”
Her aunt merely frowned at that. “You are not as well known as around Loch Lomand, my dear, and the situation is, well, different. You must have a care.”
“Miranda has promised me that she will not go out alone at night anymore,” replied the marquess.
“Sir, I have done no such—” She fell silent on catching the intense look in his eye. “Very well,” she sighed. “If it will put to rest your fears, Aunt Sophia, I will not venture out after sunset without Angus to accompany me.”
“I should like it if you would not venture out at all,” growled the marquess. “At least, not until things are more settled.”
“There are times that I must. I shall, however, exercise due caution.”
Julian’s mouth compressed in a tight line, but he said nothing more, knowing he would have to be satisfied with that.
“Will you come in for a glass of sherry?” asked Lady Thornton.
“I thank you for the invitation, but Sykes and I must be off. I shall see you both on the morrow when I come for Justin.” He inclined his head a fraction. “Good night to you both.”
“Good night, milord,” murmured Miranda before she turned and hurried into the house.
A thoughtful look spread over her features as Lady Thornton turned to regard her nephew. “Good night, Julian, and godspeed. Perhaps you will join us for supper on Sunday night?”
“Yes,” he replied slowly. “Yes, I should like that very much, Aunt Sophia.”
Miranda realizedthat another stitch had slipped from her needle. If she did not start paying attention, the sock would soon be a hopeless mess!
With a sigh, she set the darning down in her lap and stared at the flickering pattern of light on the stone hearth. It was difficult, however, to order her thoughts. No matter hard she tried, it seemed impossible to banish those piercing blue eyes and chiseled planes of an all-too-familiar face from her mind.
She bit her lip. No good could come of dwelling on such disquieting things. The past loomed as dark and forbidding between them as the granite hills outside her doors. She had a right to be bitter and angry, she reminded herself. Why, without such emotions to cling to, she would be perilously close to …
To what?
That was hardly a question she dared face. She forced her fingers back to work. One thing was certain. The less she saw of the marquess, the better it would?—
“Miranda?”
Her head came up with a start.
Lady Thornton’s brows arched in amusement. “I fear you haven’t heard a word I was saying.”
A faint blush of color rose to Miranda’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I … I must have been woolgathering,” she stammered.
“So it would seem, my dear,” observed Lady Thornton dryly. “I suggest you put aside that sock, lest you wish to add another several inches to its length.”
“Oh!” She stared down at the tangle of stitches. After a moment, both of them began to laugh. “I suppose you are right,”continued Miranda as she placed her things back in the sewing basket.
“Is there something on your mind?”
“No.” To Miranda’s consternation, her cheeks grew even hotter. “That is, did you know that Mrs. Harton’s father-in-law has come down with a nasty inflammation of the throat? I must be sure to brew a special tisane for him and deliver it first thing in the morning. And Mr. Alford’s wife is nearing the time of her confinement.” She stopped to catch her breath. “And—pray, what was it you were telling me just now?”
Lady Thornton, casually turned another page in the book she was reading. “Oh, I merely mentioned that I invited Julian to dine with us on Sunday.” She regarded her niece from under her lashes. “Do you mind? I should not like to cause you any distress.”
