Authors: Something Like a Lady
Kay Springsteen (42 page)
“
Two glasses of
o
rgeat with a splash of Madeira, Fran,
”
Jon said.
“
Right away, my lord.
”
The
woman hurried inside the tent, and
returned
in moments
with the drinks.
Annabella accepted one of the
pewter cups
.
“
Thank you.
”
She brought the tumbler to her nose and inhaled. Yes, that was the delicious scent. Eager to see if it tasted as good as it smelled, she took a drink. The flavor exploded on her palate, the syrupy sweet taste smooth as it slid down her throat, making her whole body tingle.
“
Be sure to sip that, my lady. Don
’
t be drinkin
’
it too fast,
”
Fran
cautioned.
Jon took the other
cup
and dropped several coins in the woman
’
s hand.
Fran
’
s
eyes widened.
“
Thank you, my lord.
”
She curtsied again and hurried back inside the tent.
“
Shall we stroll the grounds while we drink, my lady?
”
Jon asked, offering her his free arm.
She smiled.
“
Yes, I
’
d like that.
”
Taking the
serving girl
’
s
advice, she sipped on her drink. Each taste was better than the last.
“
The Madeira
cuts the sweetness
… and hopefully it helps you relax. Perhaps in a bit we can try some of Fran
’
s chocolate pudding.
”
He leaned closer and whispered,
“
Also flavored with Madeira.
”
It sounded a wonderful idea to Annabella.
“
Do you think the dowager would forgive me if I missed the competition and just ate chocolate pudding and drank
o
rgeat splashed with Madeira instead?
”
Jon chuckled.
“
I highly doubt it. And she
’
d never forgive me either. It
shall have to
be your reward
when you
’
ve finished
.
”
Annabella gazed at him.
“
I shall hold you to that, Lord Seabrook.
”
“
I pray that you do.
”
His eyes locked with hers, intense yet relaxed. Mesmerizing… seductive.
Unable to endure the powerful draw of his stare any longer, she looked away.
A slash of dark
cut across her vision and
drew her eyes to the refreshment tent.
The
same
man
she’d seen
earlier stood near
the entrance
. Annabella
’
s
steps faltered
.
Was he following them?
Abruptly he turned away, and she
lost track of him in the crowd. Perhaps she
’
d been mistaken
;
it
was her mind play
ing
tricks on her. Still, she scanned the crowd as they walked, wanting to point the stranger out to
Jon.
Maybe
he knew the man.
Her gaze landed on a crate
arranged
just outside the area where rows of targets had been set up. A large white goose
’
s head st
u
ck out
of
the top.
“
Why is that goose over there?
”
“
In order to involve all the residents, the club holds a couple of competitions throughout the day for non-members. With this one, the person who shoots the goose in the head wins the bird. Would you care to watch?
”
“
How barbaric! No, thank you!
”
Annabella
wrinkled her nose and
turned away. How horrible to suffer the indignity of being caged and then— She shuddered.
“
They call it food for their family,
”
Jon countered.
Embarrassment had her flushing.
“
My apologies. I didn
’
t mean… That is to say…
”
What could she say after jumping to such a conclusion? She gave him a sideways glance, hoping she hadn
’
t angered him.
But he was smiling as h
e gestured toward a man dressed in bright red with a
brown,
pointed hat
.
“
The children seem to be enjoying the show. Shall we?
”
The man was tossing apples into the air, barely catching one before launching it again
.
Suddenly, he tossed one of the fruits into the crowd. The children scrambled for the prize and the juggler
’
s assistant threw another apple into his crazy circle.
She allowed
Jon
to lead her
closer in
to the small crowd assembled around the performer.
“
Apparently, I need to heed the advice you gave
your grandmother
and refrain from saying everything that comes to my mind. I might
stumble on my tongue less
if I did.
”
He traced her forearm with one finger. Even through her dress sleeve, the warmth created an awareness that left her wanting more.
“
You
’
re splendid just as you are.
”
Annabella took a sip of her
o
r
g
eat, unsure how to answer him. After a moment, she cleared her throat.
“
You said there were several contests
for
the local residents.
”
“
Yes. We also give contestants a chance to shoot one arrow at a target. The five people who come closest to the center each receive five shillings.
”
“
A very kind gesture,
”
Annabella said.
Jon glanced around.
“
We make it clear to the club members they are to not fleece any of the merchants who are here to sell their wares or they will be removed as members and charged a fine.
”
She recalled the coins he
’
d dropped in Fran
’
s hand. What a caring man the Earl of Seabrook was turning out to be.
“
Coventry is lucky to have you.
”
Jon feigned shock by placing a hand over his chest.
“
Do my ears deceive me or is my lady finally finding me agreeable?
”
Annabella slapped his arm.
“
Nothing but a momentary lax
ity
in judgment, I assure you.
”
He
threw his head back and laughed;
finding it
contagious
,
she
joined in. The next hour flew by as he introduced her to a number of the club members and Coventry residents. They also bought some of Fran
’
s pudding, which Annabella found heavenly. Jon made it a point to visit each merchant and make a purchase of some sort. He truly showed a deep compassion for the people.
The ground beneath her feet vibrated as the blaring sound of several bugles filled the countryside. She let out a gasp.
“
It
’
s time for the men
’
s competition to start. Shall we watch?
”
Jon asked.
“
Yes, so long as they won
’
t be shooting at geese.
”
They strolled to the archery field. Annabella couldn
’
t remember the last time she
’
d had such fun. She even pushed the thought aside that once the men were finished, it would be her turn.
Pride washed over Jon, warming him through and through, as he watched his wife take her position. She reached into her quiver and froze. He smiled as she withdrew her fan and stared at it with incredulity. Then she shoved it back into the quiver but her eye
s strayed to the crowd, seeking…
seeking… landing on him. She smiled, telling him everything he needed to know. It had been the right thing, after all, slipping it in there early that morning. He hadn
’
t known for certain just how she
’
d react, whether she
’
d appreciate the good luck gesture.
Oh, how he wished he could have been standing near her when that smile lit her face. Of course, had he been, odds were she would have found herself far t
o
o busy to participate in the contest, so perhaps the current distance between them was for the best.
He
’
d told Gran Annabella was unbreakable, and he
’
d meant it. The girl was strong-willed to the extreme. But
deep down, past the
barrier
s
she
’
d erected, she was fragile
; h
ad walled herself off to keep her heart from being broken.
And he had no intention of tearing down her defenses, but instead wanted to coax his beautiful wife from behind them.
Of course, idiot that he was, she
’
d already opened the gate and he
’
d stood there like a fool, ignoring her invitation.
Lady Godiva
’s tactics
, indeed.
He held
his breath as Annabe
lla raised her bow and took aim.
Let her h
it the target.
What a bl
essing that the breeze was mild;
accuracy
would come
easier.
If the contest were judged on looks, Annabella would have no competition. St
anding tall, her pale, silky
hai
r hanging down her back with wisps blowing in the breeze, she reminded him of a drawing he
’
d once seen by Adam Buck called
Archers
. The beautiful ladies depicted with their hair unbound and flowing freely were certainly titillating. Warmth pooled in his st
omach and surged lower,
as
his body
became
acutely
aware of the picture Annabella painted.
And no doubt every other male in attendance
had also noticed
.
The bugle blared, indicating an arrow had landed in the center of the target. Had it been Annabella? He
searched the field. No, not Annabella. The air left his lungs. Lady Thornton a couple of places down had hit the center mark. It was hard to tell from this far away, but Annabella
’
s arrow seemed to have hit a few inches up and to the right of the center.
Bad luck, that.
Come on, lady fair, next time will do the trick.
She
’
d hit the mark seven or eight shots in a row when she was practicing with Gran. He inched forward, vying for a better position in the crowd. More than anything, he wanted her to do well.
Not because she was his wife, but because she deserved it. The passion she
’
d poured into practicing—
His wife! He
’
d considered her his wife from the moment they
’
d said their vows. And h
e
’
d introduced her as his wife all day
;
why had just thinking of her that way given him such a jolt?
Because it
’
s the first time I truly have thought of her that way.
S
omewhere in the past weeks,
wife
had stopped being just a word.
My wife.
A ring of warmth circled his heart, bathing it in contented heat. He loved her. Comple
tely, utterly, without a doubt. How had
that
happened?
When
had that happened?
