Page 3 of The Dream of Love
Adam knew that would never happen, for Remi was as stubborn as her father.
“She’s injured. Twisted her ankle.” Adam cast her father a warning glower when he raised his hand to poke him in the chest again.
The man lowered his hand. “I don’t care. She’s your responsibility now. I’m done with her until I have her apology. And you can tell her if I don’t have it by first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll…no, I’m not telling you my plans. You’ll only help her thwart them. But mark my words, she won’t like them.”
Nor did Adam like the sound of that threat. “Lord Hartfield, she’s your daughter. Won’t you reconsider?”
“Hah! I will not.” His face was turning that angry shade of purple again. “And I’ll tell you another thing, she won’t be my problem much longer.”
Those spiteful words added to Adam’s concern over Remi’s welfare. “What do you mean?”
Remi’s father cast him a malicious smile. “Remi will soon find out, won’t she?”
Chapter Two
Lady Remington Hartfieldsat in the church pew exactly where the vicar, Adam Carstairs, had left her seemingly hours ago, but it could not have been more than a few minutes earlier that he went chasing after her father, his gamekeeper, and the fox she had been trying to protect. Her hands were tensely folded on her lap as she struggled to maintain her composure. This explained why she did not notice him returning until his shadow suddenly loomed over her.
Remi looked up and sadness burst within her. “They shot Kit, didn’t they?”
She had tried her best to save the little thing from the huntsman’s trap but had failed. Another win for her father. All she had to show for her efforts was a bruised backside and a sprained ankle that throbbed painfully. “Did she suffer? Or was it a quick kill?”
Vicar Carstairs sank onto the pew beside her. “Kit’s safe for now. She got away. Unharmed.”
Relief washed over Remi. “But that is a good thing, is it not? Why are you looking so glum?”
He shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t realized quite how big he was. Massive shoulders. Broad chest. A body built for battle. It was odd to see him in his vicar’s black garb, but the dark colors suited him. “He doesn’t want you coming home until you are ready to apologize for your behavior.”
She gasped. “Me? Apologize to him? Never!”
“I thought you’d say as much.” He grunted but did not appear put off by her response. “Now, we have to figure out what to do with you until he relents and allows you to return.”
She wanted to suggest residing here and helping out with chores, for she was not afraid of working to earn her keep. But she knew it was impossible for several reasons. They were both unmarried. She was not worried about her ruination so much as his. The man had a reputation to uphold. The slightest tarnish and he’d be relieved of his living.
“Would you consider returning to your mother in London?” he suggested.
“No. She sent me up here because she’d had enough of me. I irritate her.”
“Why?”
“Why do I irritate her?” She cast him a mirthless smile. “Because I dislike her elegant London society. I cringe at being paraded in front of gentlemen who care nothing for me. I feel like cattle to be purchased at market whenever they inspect me. I’m not in her good favor just now because I am an embarrassment to her. I was sent down from finishing school.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Sent down?”
She nodded. “Yes, because I would not curtsy properly or sew a neat stitch to show off my embroidery. My stitchwork is wretchedly poor. But I did learn to laugh with condescension. And cast haughty looks.”
He laughed when she gave an example of both.
“I’ve just turned twenty and am too old to still be in that school. But my mother was not pleased to find me at her door. It was inconvenient for her to have me around, so she sent me up here. I think I irritate her most of all because I resemble my father and she cannot stand to look at me.”
“Lady Remi,” he said with an ache to his voice, reaching out to take her hand in his. Hers was cold, but his was warm and comforting. “I’m truly sorry.”
He was too handsome to resist. Ridiculously handsome, if there was such a thing. Thick, dark hair. A beautifully rugged face to complement his warrior’s body. Soulful eyes, the deep blue of a Highland lake, calm on the surface but hiding dangerous undercurrents.
She wasn’t the only one whose heart fluttered whenever he drew near. Every woman in Wellesford felt the same about Adam Carstairs. Had a single one of them ever missed his Sunday sermons? It wasn’t as though they had all turned pious overnight. Quite the opposite, he brought out the sinful urges in even the saintliest of women.
Not that she was saintly. But she was innocent. Her sins dealt mainly with protecting helpless creatures from her father. She had no experience with men. She had never even kissed a man and had no idea why young ladies were always warned kisses were dangerous. Not that it mattered. She was an oddity, a misfit, and would end her days a spinster. Both her parents thought so, and they never agreed on anything.
He sighed and released her hand. “Let me have a look at your ankle.” Without awaiting her reply, he reached down and carefully raised her leg to set it across his lap. “Och, it is badly swollen. Why dinna ye tell me sooner?”
