Page 46 of Better Love Next Time
Julian hobbled away, toward the ruckus. Adjacent to the east side of the stable, a bay filly raced inside a fenced pen. Georgiana attempted to herd her into the stables with a strapping Anthony Philips.
“Anthony, come behind her,” Georgiana ordered, while the filly planted her legs and sniffed with superiority. “Kitty, come out and show Minny the apple.”
A white cotton petticoat fluttered in the darkened doorway, covered by a faded work apron of pink. A dusty ankle boot stepped into the pen, the gown hitched to display the slim rise of a white calf. An arm lead, long fingers clutching the apple.
Kitty’s voice wavered like a wood thrush. “I—I think she means to run me over.”
“Stand firm, Kitty.”
Kitty’s voice lowered dully. “I am standing firm.”
Her jest brought the first grin to Julian’s face since he’d found himself dangling by a cracked leg above theLiverpool’sdeck.
The horse made a break, sprinted toward Kitty, ripped the apple from her hand, and with Anthony threatening from the rear, the filly dashed into the stables.
Georgiana shut the door and leapt in victory. Kitty fell to the dirt, a riot of giggles spilling from her lips.
But was it Kitty? The twelve-year old he had left standing alone in front of Notfelle, her skinny arms hugging her waist?
Her waist was still tiny. With undeniable curves above it. Her breasts thrust up, high and higher, with her breath. There were appealing curves below her waist, too, where her apron lay smooth against her pelvis and the thin cotton layers fanned out over her hips.
Julian wrenched his shoulder, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. Bad thoughts. On Kitty.
Anthony rushed to Kitty from behind and hooking his arms beneath hers, dragged her to her feet. He bent to her neck. “Magnificent apple-baiting technique, sweet fairy. May I have a bite?”
Fairy?
Julian strangled the brace of his crutch. At the same time, Kitty covered her face and laughed. And laughed prettier. And squealed as Anthony swung her in a circle. Which looked like a man hurling a giggling female into bed before climbing on top of her, with a growl and a kiss and…
Julian growled. He had done exactly that. Not to Kitty. Never to Kitty, and this, this was only anatomy. She was still Kitty. The girl he’d never make children with.
Anthony set Kitty to the soles of her dainty ankle boots. Kitty twisted and playfully pushed him away. A cascade of black, curling hair swayed at her hips, gleaming in the sun.
His uncle leaned against the fence beside him. “Like what you see, don’t you, Julian?”
Julian peeled his gaze from the beautiful girl, shocked that his uncle had called him Julian for the first time in his life. “No.”
“Lie to yourself. While you were taking prizes, your fairy caught her own prize. The Earl of Wetherden’s son. Only son, I’ll add. Though it remains to be seen if Babbington desires a title and lands for his girl more than a Catholic husband.”
The image of Anthony Philips despoiling Kitty wrenched him in a place he hadn’t known existed: his soul.
His uncle jostled him with a shoulder. “But what you want has nothing to do with marriage, does it?” He rapped the fence rail with his walking stick. “George, look what I dragged back from London. A real pirate in the flesh!”
Kitty turned. She had grown taller, her limbs were longer, lissome like a willow. Grief strained at her eyes. “Julian?”
Anthony shouted a greeting and, with Georgiana matching his strides, loped toward Julian. They embraced him, marveled at his height, asked him about his leg, if he was a pirate. Kitty stared unmoving from across the pen.
“Kitty! Come see!” Georgiana called. “He’s not dead after all!”
Finally, Kitty started walking. Slowing at the gate, she swung it wide and closed it. On her left hand was his ring.
Taking her place next to Anthony, she curtsied. “It is good to see you, Julian. I hope your leg does not pain you.”
“Well, I hope it does,” Georgiana said. “Not writing you for a year.”
“I’m certain he had good reasons,” Kitty replied.
Anthony smirked. “Many, I’m sure.”
