Page 37 of Surrender Your Grace
“I can’t allow you to have abraded skin. Perhaps I should check before we head home.”
“What? No… Andrew!”Cici squealed as he lifted her from her horse, tumbled her into the thick, fragrant grass, and shoved her skirts to her waist once again.
The sun was past its zenith and dipping toward the western horizon before they remounted and started for home. They hadn’t gone far when two figures appeared on the path, approaching on foot.
Andrew turned calmly, all aristocratic composure, and offered a genial smile.“Reverend Hale, Mrs. Hale. How very good to see you.”
Cici nearly choked on her own tongue. Her cheeks flamed as she shot Andrew an accusing look. If they had been ten minutes later—five, perhaps—they would have found the viscount and his new viscountess in a state of scandalous undress. She could never have shown her face in the village, the parsonage, or at church!
As the Hales chatted verbosely, Cici sat her horse stiffly, acutely aware she was lacking undergarments.She answered politely but tried to keep the conversation brief. The couple seemed to sense her impatience and, in parting, invited them for tea someday soon.
Mrs. Hale turned and pointed out the vicarage.“You can see the rooftop through the trees.”
Cici searched until she spotted it across the water.“We saw a boat. Did you use it to cross?”
“No, my lady. There is a footbridge across a narrow inlet hidden by the trees. Folks from the village will often cross to the Arendale side for a morning or evening walk. There’s a bench farther up where you can watch the swans. We were headed that way. Did his lordship show it to you?”
“He did,”she said tersely,“but my lord failed to mention the bridge or that this was a popular walking path.”
Andrew shrugged and commented,“Funny. I’d completely forgotten the bridge was there.”
If the vicar and his wife stared curiously, it wasn’t because she shot her knave of a husband a scathing glare. It was becausehis lordship found it all vastly amusing and couldn’t contain his laughter.
“We were on our way home,”Andrew said when he contained himself.“We shall look forward to tea. I imagine my wife would love to become properly acquainted.”
“Certainly, my lord,”said Mrs. Hale, with a suspicious gleam in her eye.“Perhaps Tuesday?”
“That would be lovely,”Cici managed, voice pitched slightly too high.
They parted with pleasantries, but as soon as the couple was out of earshot, Cici let him have it.
“You rogue,”she hissed, swatting at his arm.“We were seconds away from being caught!”
He chuckled.“But we weren’t.”
“Only by thegrace of Godand the slowness of Mrs. Hale’s gait!”
He laughed harder at that, entirely unrepentant.“I’ll behave at tea, I promise. No indecent proposals in front of the vicar.”
She narrowed her eyes.“You’d better not.”
Even in her outrage, Andrew left her breathless—and alive. He made her feel unlike herself—beautiful, adventurous, and deeply, desperately in love. Yes. Within a matter of a few short days, unimaginably perfect days, she’d fallenhead over heelsfor her husband.
As they turned their horses toward home, she felt giddy and with something that had been absent since that awful night in the garden at the Easterly’s ball—hope for happiness in her future.
Chapter 10
When they returned to the stables, their stomachs rumbled in hungry protest. With clasped hands, and light of heart, she and Andrew climbed the hill to the manor eager for supper. Cici smiled, thinking, if every day were like this, her life would be perfect.
The illusion shattered the moment they stepped through the doors. A somber-faced Higgins waited in the foyer. Even without his grim expression, the palpable sense of dread that settled over her told Cici something terrible had happened.
A well-dressed gentleman, bigger and broader than her husband, pacing the foyer halted and turned to face them.
“Duncan,” Andrew said in surprise. “Why aren’t you in Scotland?”
“I returned to town yesterday on business.” His green-eyed gaze shifted to Cici. “That’s when I learned congratulations were in order.”
“Forgive me. In my surprise, I forgot my manners. May I present Cecilia Ashwick, née Edwards—now my wife, the Viscountess Arendale. Cici, this is Duncan MacPherson, Earl of Rothbury and Chieftain of Clan MacPherson. We’ve been friends since we were in short pants.”
