My Fair Lily (14 page)

“Oh, crumpets. It’s Lady Withnall,” Lily whispered, still laughing and making matters worse by turning in his arms to face him. Which meant that Jasper would knock Lily’s perfect breasts into his chest with that hairy beast’s next leap. Which is precisely what
happened.

“Jasper!” Lily cried, making absolutely no attempt to draw back. Not that Jasper would have let her, but the lass could have at least tried to feign shock, horror. Indignation. She looked and felt too
comfortable in his arms. Achingly perfect in his arms.

Wroooolf!
Jasper’s ungainly paws were now atop Lily’s head, knocking
the pins out of her magnificent, dark curls so that they spilled over Ewan’s
arms and continued in a glorious cascade down Lily’s back.

Wrooolf, wrooooolf!

Yes, he was going to murder that great, loping beast and turn him into a hairy rug to set before the fireplace. Especially after he found out who Lady Withnall was and why everyone in London feared her, even though she was a tiny woman who stood about eye
level to his waist and had a disconcerting way of staring at his groin.

She was London’s most prolific gossip.

His grandfather strode in just then and found Eloise and Lady Withnall gawking at him and Lily. “Ladies, I think we had better move the planning of my birthday festivities from the library to the conservatory. I think we’ll be more comfortable settled there.”

“An excellent idea,” said Lady Withnall, shooting her long, pointed nose in the air and letting out an indignant sniff. “Seems we
have quite the fireworks going on in here.”

Eloise smiled. “Isn’t it delightful? Lotheil, I think we should plan on more fireworks for your birthday celebration. Everyone loves to see sparks flying.”

Ewan didn’t hear his grandfather’ reply, for Jasper was still jumping on Lily, his tongue all over her face and licking down her
delectable
body... something Ewan would have willingly braved the fires of
eternal damnation to do... blast, the dog was lucky.

As for fireworks, he was as hot as any of those rockets. Hot and about
to explode, though it wouldn’t be as pretty or delicate as those shimmering points of light. It would be hot and messy. “Miss
Farthingale,” he said softly, Jasper still jumping and Jergens doing his best to drag the beast away, “you are a menace to this household.”

She smiled up at him, her hair a wild mess and her cheeks flushed pink as she wriggled against his body to shield herself from Jasper’s exuberance. “Thank you, Laird Carnach. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

LILY WAS NOT SURPRISED
when Ewan avoided her for the next few days, but he’d given her permission to join him, Laurel, and Uncle George at Tattersalls today—that permission bestowed despite Lady Withnall having seen them in what she’d called “a compromising position” and blabbed it about town with the
efficiency of Napoleon’s
army on the march—so Lily planned to be on her best behavior all
day.

No controversy whatsoever.

She caught one look at Ewan’s frowning expression and realized he was still displeased about what had happened in front of Lady Withnall. Perhaps she ought to have begged out, but she had nothing to be ashamed of, and it seemed to her that hiding at home would only confirm to the London gossips that she did have reason
to be ashamed. “It isn’t my fault that
your
dog jumps on me whenever he sees me.”

“Ye shouldn’t encourage the big looby.” His brogue was thick
again, a sign of his vexation.

“Me? I didn’t... oh, what’s the use. You’re overset because everyone now believes we’re an item and the gossips have spread
the news throughout London.”

“Throughout England,” he corrected, “and the outer reaches of the Antipodes.”

“You and I know it isn’t true.” She glanced up to smile at him, but the sun was in her eyes so she couldn’t see whether or not his expression had mellowed. Probably not. He wasn’t engaging her in
conversation other than to blame her for his dog’s behavior.

The sun was a big, yellow ball in the sky, and the sky was one of those rare, cloudless blue skies to be savored while it lasted. Despite the sunshine, there was a distinct chill to the air having nothing to do with Ewan’s ill humor. A stiff breeze blew across the stalls and crowded footpaths of the auction grounds, carrying the scent of horses and horse manure along with the various perfumed scents
presently favored by
the gentlemen of fashion who sauntered along these paths looking for the perfect pair of matched bays to hitch to their sleek carriages
and stylish phaetons.

Spiced cinnamon and an exotic fruity scent that someone had described as Chinese orange were the current rage among the younger gentlemen. The overpowering French perfumes were a favorite among
the older men. Despite the years of war, those fragrances reliably managed to reach England’s shores.

Fortunately, the war was over and done for good now that Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo. Lily’s sister Daisy, and
Daisy’s brave and
handsome husband Gabriel, had been involved in saving the day. Gabriel had been awarded an earldom for almost singlehandedly
defeating
Napoleon’s army. That Daisy had also played a role in the victory
made Lily very proud.

Ewan nudged her along when she became distracted by her own thoughts. Ewan, of course, smelled of clean, rugged Highlands, a blend
of clear mountain water and pine woods. He looked good, too.
Whenever did he not? His clothes were simple but finely tailored, buff trousers,
dark brown jacket, and a pine green cravat of finest silk that did not
make him look at all like a dandy. He wore no cloak, obviously
comfortable in the cold weather.

Lily wasn’t nearly as comfortable. Her ears and the tip of her nose were growing numb. “Did you know that horses were originally the size of dogs? And that they are closely related to zebras, though anyone looking at the zebras in the royal menagerie would have a hard time
believing it. They’re both equines, but horses have long been domesticated
while zebras remain wild and unpredictable. There’s also a creature known in ancient times to be part zebra and part giraffe.”

“What?”

“I’m not jesting. The animal is a mix of giraffe and zebra. I wonder
how it happened. And why it happened. Perhaps a necessary
adaptation
to survive in the wild. That’s why I’m so keen on Ashton’s research
on
lemur populations in Madagascar. There are so many offshoots from
the original lemur ancestor, it will make your head spin.”

He grinned. “Fascinating.”

“Rumor has it that the zebra-giraffe creature has been seen on the
grass plains of central Africa. I saw a drawing of it in one of the books in
your grandfather’s library, an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic text depicting that very animal. I wish I could go to Africa one day to see all these odd forms of life in their natural
surroundings. Don’t you?”

He paused a long moment, eyeing her warily and with great
doubt. “Eloise warned me about you.”

“She did not. She adores me. She thinks I’m the cleverest girl she’s ever met.”

He arched an eyebrow and then shook his head and grinned again. “I suppose you are. But let’s concentrate on horses for the moment, just the breeds on display here today, and no more talk of zebras, giraffes, or other oddities.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “And no lectures on the baboon colonies of Madagascar either.”

She snapped her mouth shut. Tried not to respond. Counted to three, then spoke. “The baboons have established colonies in continental Africa. The lemur colonies populate Madagascar and have thrived on
that island since the great rift that split it off from Africa. They’ve thrived because of the lack of natural enemies, but that’s changed
recently as humans have settled in.”

He let out a laughing groan. “Lily, I think I’m going to miss you when I’m back in Scotland.”

Her heart sank into her toes. He’d only been here a week, and he was already itching to return home. He
thought
he might miss her once his time in London was over. She
knew
she would miss him terribly—not lightly or sometimes, but always. Of course, she could never tell him that. She’d already made a fool of herself by kissing
him. Once. Briefly. He’d obviously put it out of his mind. She must have done an awful job of it.

She quietly followed her uncle, sister, and Ewan as they walked from stall to stall and browsed the pens inspecting prime stallions and gentle mares. Ewan pointed to an enormous, sinewed beast, a black giant that its owner called Hades, a brute that appeared
capable of breathing fire out
of its nostrils. Laurel stepped forward and ran her hands along the horse’s chest and withers. She inspected his teeth, felt along his forelegs, and inspected his hooves. Hades allowed her to touch him without so much as a whinny of protest. “You have a good eye, Ewan. He’s magnificent.”

He nodded and turned to Lily. “What do you think, lass?”

Her eyes rounded in alarm. “Why ask me? I only know what’s written in books. You’re the experts.”

“Still, I value your opinion.”

“You do?”

“Aye.” He shook his head and laughed. “Why no’? You seem to know about everything else.”

Not everything. She had no idea how to kiss a man and make
him like it. She was a scholar, not a temptress.

“Well,” Uncle George said, eyeing her in that discerning way of his, somehow knowing what was on her mind, “we seem to be in agreement that Hades is for you. Let’s find a gentle mare for your sister.” He took Lily’s arm and strode ahead with her, leaving Laurel
and Ewan behind
to finalize their registration to bid on the magnificent specimen.
“You’ve taken a liking to him, Lily.”

She knew her uncle was talking about Ewan, not Hades. “There’s nothing between us. You mustn’t pay attention to those silly rumors.”

“I never do. I hope you don’t either.” He gazed at her, his eyes filled with kindness and love, for he was quite protective of his nieces and not about to let anyone hurt her or her sisters. “He seems to be a decent fellow, but it’s obvious he won’t remain in London
any longer than is necessary. He isn’t here to find himself a bride.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Just making certain you haven’t taken the whisperings of these bored gossips to heart. I don’t want you hoping for something more from the fellow. You have a way of looking at him, as though he makes the sun shine and stars glow brighter. I don’t see him looking
at you the same way. Just be careful, Lily.”

She glanced back to watch Ewan and Laurel approach. They were smiling, both seeming at ease with each other, and engrossed in conversation. She overheard portions of their discussion as they approached and knew they were reviewing the quality of the horseflesh on display at the auction house. Her uncle joined in, and Lily felt a bit like
a duck out of water, her knowledge gleaned only from books
and not at all from life experience.

As the others walked ahead, she held back and strolled along a quieter pathway that housed the older, less desirable horses. She paused by one stall, drawn to it by the soft neighs of its occupant, a dappled gray mare. “Hello, girl. What’s your name? Mine’s Lily. You seem lonely.”

The mare approached and nuzzled her cheek.

“At the moment, I’m feeling a little lonely too. I wish I’d thought to bring an apple for you.” She stroked the mare’s nose and received a thick lick on the cheek in return.
Ugh.
“You must be related to
Jasper.”

She heard a deep, rumbling chuckle from behind her. Ewan stepped forward and leaned his big shoulder against the stall, his gaze never leaving hers as he withdrew his handkerchief and wiped it gently against her cheek. “What is it with you and animals, lass? They can’t resist you.”

Just her luck, she was devastating to animals. Not to men.

“There’s something about this sweet mare that drew me to her.
Look how gentle she is. Do you think Meggie will like her?”

He tossed her a careless smile. “I think she’ll be perfect. Let me find her owner and I’ll sign us up for the bidding. Seems we’ve had a productive day. The auction will begin soon. Are you interested in watching?”

“Yes, I’ve never seen an auction before. Have you?”

“Sure, lots of times. I think you’ll enjoy it. The bidding moves along quickly, especially under the direction of these experienced
auctioneers. There’s an art to the process.”

“Tell me about it.” This was what she loved about being out in the
world, the nuances of everyday life. What appeared simple and straightforward on the surface was actually a complicated mix of past events and experiences leading up to a single moment.

“It isn’t merely about selling horseflesh, but about desire and temptation.”

Lily laughed. “You make it sound like one of those scandalous novels Eloise loves to read.”

“It’s similar. We think we’ve come here merely to purchase horses, but it’s the auctioneer’s job to rouse our passions, to make us desire that horse so badly, we’ll throw caution—and our budgets—to the wind to
possess the object of our bidding. And if more than one party is aroused, then a bidding war starts. The auctioneer has accomplished
his goal.”