A Night of Forever (12 page)

“I did apologize,” he said, although his voice
certainly lacked conviction. He sounded bored. Bloody bored and for
some reason Meg was offended. “I hardly see the need for you to
carry on so.”

More than a little annoyed, she focused on his face
and realized with a start that he had green eyes, eyes the very
color of the moss on the bank. Green eyes surrounded by thick,
black lashes that any woman would murder for.

Remaining traces of panic mixed with something long
ago repressed...a tingle that spread from the spot where his
fingers wrapped around her arms to the middle of her body and lower
to the pit of her belly. And just as she was wondering if he felt
anything, his nostrils flared ever so slightly, his lips parting
almost as if he was breathing in her very essence. The blue vein on
the side of his pale face jumped to life.

“I know. You were only trying to help,” she
whispered.

How could she explain? She wasn’t daft, she’d heard
the stories of innocent women seduced, whether they wanted to or
not, by wealthy lords. And by the fine cut of his clothing, he was
certainly wealthy and most likely a lord. She stepped out of reach,
but could still feel the sting of his touch. No, it wasn’t
attraction…it was merely the heat of the day.

Dancing around him, she snatched up her dress. “But
you see, you shouldn’t appear on other people’s property when…”

He stepped forward, so close she could see flecks of
gold in his eerie green eyes, and something else…anger. Through the
heady scent of earth and woods, she smelled him… male, outdoors and
leather…spice of some sort. A wonderful smell that pulled at her,
made her want to step even closer.

“And grown women should not frolic like children
wearing nothing but their undergarments.”

Heat raced to her face. When she opened her mouth to
rebut, he held up his gloved hand. “Besides, this stream runs
through
my
property and I may walk here as much as I damn
well please. I should not have to worry about women hiding in the
reeds.” He pointed toward the fence that disappeared into the trees
across the creek. “To that fence there is owned by the procurer of
Pease Manor.”

His words sank into her stomach like her sister Mary
Ellen’s cooking. Pease Manor? This arrogant oaf was the new owner?
It was horrible, too horrible that he should live so close. Perhaps
he wouldn’t stay; perhaps he was merely here to hunt for a week or
two.

She rubbed her brow and shifted, uncomfortable under
his scrutiny. He was obviously awaiting her response. “They aren’t
reeds, they’re wildflowers.”

He was silent for a moment, as if attempting to
understand the sudden change in conversation. “What in hell are you
talking about?”

Her ire grew and her hands twisted her faded pink
dress. “You said I was hiding in reeds, I’m merely pointing out
that they are wildflowers.”

His gaze narrowed. “Your name?”

“My name?” She blinked rapidly, attempting to pull
herself from the odd sensual fog she currently waded in. She didn’t
wish to tell him her name, yet surely he’d uncover the truth from
the villagers if she didn’t offer a response.

He snatched the leather riding gloves from his
fingers, one by one, drawing her attention to his hands; pale,
large and clean. He cleared his throat. She jerked her attention
back to his face.

“Are you dimwitted? Do you not know your own
name?”

“Meg,” she blurted out, annoyed and exasperated that
she’d answered him so easily. Obviously she’d lost control of her
wits.

Slowly, he rubbed his jaw with his knuckles. What
was he waiting for? Meg took a step back, tightening the hold on
her dress. She dropped into a quick curtsy and without another
word, dashed through the trees, leaving her slippers and stockings
behind.

A Night of Secrets is available now!

To find out more about Lori, visit her at
www.LoriBrighton.com