The Husband List -2 (19 page)

“There it is.” Gillian’s horse delicately stepped around one tree, then another, and into the clearing.

“And what, exactly, is it?” Richard’s wry voice sounded behind her.

“It’s a temple, of course, a Greek temple.” She slipped off her horse and wrapped the reins around a low-hanging branch. The small white structure glowed in the dappled, late afternoon sunlight.

Round in shape, with a domed roof supported by equally spaced columns, it sat on a base two steps high, like a fancy cake with white sugar frosting on a fine china plate.

“Of course.” Richard trailed after her. “Silly of me not to have realized it. One often finds Greek temples lurking in the woods of English estates. Sneaky things, temples.”

“You do have to watch them every minute.” She studied the building affectionately. “This one is quite special.”

“Is it?”

“Indeed it is.” Absently she took off her gloves and removed her hat. “I spent a great deal of my childhood playing games right here with Kit and Robin and...”

“Charles?”

She nodded, her mind drifting back through the years.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Her gaze met his. Sympathy shone in his eyes.

“It’s quite all right,” she said with a smile. “I have nothing but the fondest memories of those days.” She climbed the shallow stairs and stepped into the temple.

He followed her. “It’s a bit odd though, isn’t it? For a girl to have male playmates?”

“Probably. But then my family has always been a bit unusual.” She dropped her hat and gloves onto one of the curved benches that occupied alternate spaces between the columns. “Charles’s and Kit’s and Robin’s family estates all border this one. I can’t recall how the four of us grew so close and why Thomas was never one of our party although I suspect it was because he was a bit older and the heir.”

She walked slowly around the perimeter of the circular floor, trailing her fingers over the cool marble. “We, all four of us, really grew up here.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Did I tell you it was called the Duchess’ Folly?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Why?”

She crossed to the far side of the structure and nodded at the landscape. “You can see the lake from here but you can’t see the temple from the lake, and it does seem rather foolish to locate something like this where it can’t be seen. My grandfather built it for my grandmother shortly after they were married. Whenever anyone has the audacity to ask why he placed it here, she simply smiles a rather private smile.”

“But she doesn’t explain?”

“Never.” Gillian crossed her arms and settled against a column. “It is a beautiful spot, though. Peaceful and serene and secluded.”

“And special,” he said softly.

She slanted him a quick glance. He leaned against the column closest to hers and stared at her intently. “Very special.” Her gaze returned to fix on the lake, but her mind’s eye saw the years gone by. “This folly has been witness to two generations of Effingtons. It’s seen any number of declarations of love and proposals of marriage. It’s been the site as well of heartbreak and deception.

“For imaginative children, it’s served as everything from a ship sailing off to unknown adventures to a fort in the wilds of America besieged by savages to a castle high amid the clouds guarded by fire-breathing dragons—”

“With a princess or simply the daughter of a duke?”

She smiled. “Without question a princess. Ever so much better than the daughter of a duke.”

“And was the princess waiting for rescue by a handsome knight?”

She adopted a dramatically haughty manner. “Why, nothing less would serve. That is, after all, what princesses trapped in castles by fire-breathing dragons do.”

“And was Charles the knight riding to the rescue?” His manner was offhand.

“It was as likely to be Kit or Robin then,” she said quickly and turned her gaze back to the lake and the past. Richard was right of course: Charles was, more often than not in their silly games, her knight. And eventually, her love. “I loved them all dearly.”

“But it was Charles who captured the heart of the fair Princess Gillian.”

“Yes, it was Charles.” A touch of sadness lingered in her heart whenever she thought of Charles and probably always would, but she could talk about her husband now without pain or grief. Odd how the years had at last healed the anguish of his loss.

“It must have been very hard,” he hesitated, “when he ...”

“Was killed.” She paused, wondering that she could say the words so easily now. “I was devastated. I thought I’d never be able to go on without him. And I didn’t, not really, not for a very long time.” She met his gaze directly. “But the time came when I did.”

“I’m glad,” he said simply, the look in his eyes dark and intense, and her breath caught.

“As am I.”

For a long moment they stared. The air around them sparked with the tension of unsaid words. Silent declarations. Unspoken promises. She could follow her own advice, should follow her own advice, and simply ask him. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Did he love her? Could he love her? But the fear she’d thought she’d conquered swept through her, and she couldn’t form the words. Couldn’t face his answer.

“So,” he said, in a strange, strangled voice, as if he, too, was fighting to keep his wits about him. “Were there other games played here besides princess and knight?”

“All kinds of games.” Relief coursed through her at the abrupt change to a far safer subject. “Let me think.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Horse and rider and hot cockles and hide-and-seek and ...” She grinned. “I’ll show you one that was a great favorite for years.” She picked up her hat and gloves and stepped out of the temple, backing away until she could see the top of the dome.

Richard walked after her with a curious half smile. “What kind of game is this?”

“Do you see the finial on the roof?” An ornate brass rod crowned the top of the dome. He nodded. “We used to take a hat, actually
they
used to take a hat—usually one of mine—and try to toss it onto the spindle.”

“Did any of you ever succeed?” His tone was skeptical.

She laughed. “A couple of times.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied the brass rod glittering in the sun. “How did you get it down?”

Gillian nodded at a nearby oak. “One of us would climb up there, inch out on that thick branch that hangs over the temple, and flip the hat off with a long stick.”

“It looks rather tricky to me.”

“I think the tree is a lot taller than it used to be.” She shook her head. “Silly game, I know, but we’d spend hours trying. It was quite a challenge.”

“Did you ever make it?” he said thoughtfully.

“Kit’s the only one who ever managed it. Twice, if I remember right.”

“Charles never did?”

“No.” She drew out the word slowly and shook her head. “What are you—”

“Give me your hat.” He held out his hand.

“I will not!” She snatched the bonnet out of his reach and hid it behind her back. “Richard, this is the only hat I own that matches my riding dress, and I refuse to let you throw it anywhere, let alone on top of the temple.”

He shrugged and moved toward her. “I doubt if I can manage it at any rate. I haven’t tossed hats for years. It never was a great skill of mine.”

She moved back. “It may well be years before you have an opportunity. You shall not toss this one.”

“Oh, come now, Gillian.” He grinned. “If you didn’t want me to attempt this, you would have left it on the bench where it was safe. You can’t fool me. You want me to try.”

“That’s ridiculous. I want nothing of the sort.” She took another step backward and tried not to laugh. “Was this the kind of nasty little boy you were? I can see you now, trying to steal bonnets from unsuspecting little girls.”

“I was a wicked child, but I never once stole a hat from a girl.” An equally wicked light shone in his eyes, and again he stepped toward her. “A kiss, perhaps, from little girls. Unsuspecting or otherwise.”

“A kiss? Not merely wicked but quite advanced for a mere boy, don’t you think?”

“Some of us grow up faster than others. Now.” He drew closer. “Give me your hat.”

“Absolutely not.” She laughed and pulled it from behind her to clutch it to her chest, its long plume bobbing at him like a floppy sword. “Never.”

“You’re going to back into that tree behind you, and then I’ll have you precisely where I want you.”

“Tree? Hah! I’m not falling for that. I know every—” She smacked into something rough and solid and knew without a doubt exactly what it was. “I did that deliberately, you know,” she said in her loftiest manner.

“Did you?” He rested his forearm on the bark directly over her head and gazed down at her. “To what purpose?”

“Purpose?” Barely the span of a hand separated his body from hers, and at once the familiar, sweet ache of desire throbbed deep within her. “To force a trade perhaps.”

“What do you propose?” His voice was lazy, enticing. His gaze flicked to her mouth, and without thinking she moistened her lips. His gaze drifted back to mesh with hers.

“Well...” She raised her chin in an unspoken challenge. “What did you say you stole as a wicked boy?”

He laughed and bent his mouth to hers. She closed her eyes and wondered if it was at all possible that the exquisite delight that surged through her whenever their lips touched would do so every time they kissed.

Without warning, he straightened and snatched the hat from her unresisting hands. She snapped her eyes open. “Richard, that wasn’t at all fair.”

“Once again, it’s the way of the world.” He grinned and headed toward the temple.

“You really are wicked, you know.” She hurried after him.

“It is my nature, Gillian. It’s why women find me charming and irresistible.”

“I don’t find you irresistible at all.”

He stopped and turned so suddenly that she nearly stumbled into him. “You don’t?”

“No!”

“Not even a bit?” His tone was hopeful.

“Perhaps a bit.”

“Only a bit?” He flashed a grin.

She laughed in surrender. “Very well, more than a bit. Now give me back my hat.” She gazed at it longingly. It was a pretty little thing, claret colored to match her habit, with a long, full feather dyed a becoming shade of green.

He hefted it in his hand. “It’s not going to be easy. It has no weight to it whatsoever.”

“Then let me have it!” She grabbed for it, but he pulled it out of her reach, turned, and strode toward the temple. She sighed and followed.

He paused, his gaze assessing, then nodded. “I’ll try it from here.”

“Richard, this is ridiculous.”

“No doubt of that,” he said absently.

“You can’t possibly succeed.”

“You’re probably right.”

“If you’re trying to prove a point, I told you Charles never managed to—”

“Charles has nothing to do with this,” he said mildly.

“Then why—”

At once he turned, pulled her close with his free arm, and kissed her hard and long. Then he drew back and smiled down at her. “I never had the pleasure of rescuing the fair Princess Gillian from a fire-breathing dragon.”

“Oh.” It was more a sigh than a word. How could the blasted man affect her like this?

His smile widened. “The least you can do is allow me the opportunity to toss your hat.” He kissed her quickly. “Just once.”

“Very well.” She huffed, and he released her. “But you get only one try.”

“One is all I’ll need.”

She snorted. “I do hope your ability lives up to your confidence.”

He ignored her, took careful aim, and tossed the hat. It sailed heavenward in a graceful arc, and for a moment she thought he’d actually succeed. Then a gust of wind caught the bonnet and carried it higher, until it snagged in the branches of the tree directly above the temple.

She slanted him a pointed glance.

He stared up at the oak. “Damned close I’d say. Pity.” He brushed off his hands. “Well, that’s that then. Let’s go.”

“Go? What about my hat?”

He looked at her cautiously. “It’s in the tree.”

“I know it’s in the tree.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you plan on getting it down?”

“I don’t.” He nodded and started toward his horse.

“Then I suppose I shall have to.”

He turned and considered her carefully. “You’re going to climb the tree?”

“Granted, it’s been a long time.”

“But you have climbed it before?”

“Perhaps not that particular tree...”

He raised a brow.

“Very well,” she snapped. “Not that tree at all.”

He rolled his eyes toward the heavens and took off his jacket. “Find me a rock.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to knock it out of the tree.” He tossed the jacket onto a nearby bush.