Read Online A Midsummer's Kiss (Farthingale Series Book 4) by Meara Platt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meara Platt
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Scottish barony.”
“I would have done the same were I in your position.”
“No, you would have been more attentive and noticed that—”
“Stop, Grandmama,” he said gently. “Aunt Jenny and Granduncle Silas fed and clothed me and provided a roof over my head. They were severe, but not cruel. It was the only way either of them knew how to be. Perhaps things might have been different if Silas had ever had children of his own. But he never married and therefore depended upon his nieces to care for him.”
“And then your mother died, leaving the burden to Jenny alone.”
He nodded. “The double burden of a demanding old man and a helpless infant. What’s done is done. I wasn’t about to dishonor my mother’s memory by complaining about her family. Nor could I blame Aunt Jenny for resenting me. She was young and ought to have been attending assemblies and musicales instead of sitting trapped with us on a secluded baronial estate.”
Eloise’s response was cut short by Laurel’s return.
Graelem was relieved to end the conversation. He turned his attention to Laurel and smothered a grin. The girl had an adorably smug look on her face. Ah, he enjoyed looking at her wonderfully expressive face. One day, she might look upon him with tender passion. Right now, he was the only one fighting off passionate urges. Laurel’s body was like a siren song calling to him with each graceful sway of her hips. “What deadly dull tale have you selected, lass?”
She tipped her chin upward and cast him a victorious grin. “Your grandmother mentioned that you enjoy Shakespeare, so I chose to read Titus Andronicus .”
He glanced at the freshly baked pies Watling had wheeled in on the tea cart. They were still hot, which intensified their cinnamon and apple aroma. The delightful scent tickled his nostrils. Titus Andronicus had a gory scene with a pie central to the story. Did Laurel know what that tragedy was about? Or know that two of the characters were baked in a pie and given to their unknowing mother to eat?
Eloise resumed her seat beside the door. “Laurel dear,” she spoke up with concern, “I don’t think this play is appropriate. It—”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Laurel insisted, plunking herself down on the stool and opening the book.
Graelem smothered another grin. Laurel was the sort of girl who only became further entrenched in her position if told she should not or could not do something. It hadn’t taken Graelem long to figure out that quirk in her character, and he was surprised that his grandmother had yet to discover it. Then again, Laurel adored Eloise and always sought to please her.
“Is there a reason you chose this particular story?” he asked. “Other than simply because I enjoy his works?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
He waited for her to explain, and when no explanation was forthcoming, he merely arched an eyebrow. “Very well, get on with it. And when you tire of reading, we can simply talk. I’d like to learn more about you.”
“I have no wish to learn anything about you.” She tipped her chin upward again. “We won’t be marrying. I hope never to see you again once my punishment is over.” She paused a moment and looked down at her toes. “But thank you for saving Brutus.”
She paused again, raised her gaze to his, and opened her mouth to speak. Shaking her head, she clamped her mouth shut. He grew curious when she repeated the process, opening that perfectly shaped mouth of hers that was meant to be kissed often and thoroughly, and then quickly closing it. “What’s on your mind, lass?”
She fidgeted a moment, took a deep breath, and then looked him squarely in the eye. “Will you sell Brutus to me once Father calms down and permits me to have him back?”
“No.”
She shot to her feet and was about to drop the forgotten Titus Andronicus on her toes, but he caught the book in time. “Hell and damnation,” he said with a yelp, for the quick movement
“I would have done the same were I in your position.”
“No, you would have been more attentive and noticed that—”
“Stop, Grandmama,” he said gently. “Aunt Jenny and Granduncle Silas fed and clothed me and provided a roof over my head. They were severe, but not cruel. It was the only way either of them knew how to be. Perhaps things might have been different if Silas had ever had children of his own. But he never married and therefore depended upon his nieces to care for him.”
“And then your mother died, leaving the burden to Jenny alone.”
He nodded. “The double burden of a demanding old man and a helpless infant. What’s done is done. I wasn’t about to dishonor my mother’s memory by complaining about her family. Nor could I blame Aunt Jenny for resenting me. She was young and ought to have been attending assemblies and musicales instead of sitting trapped with us on a secluded baronial estate.”
Eloise’s response was cut short by Laurel’s return.
Graelem was relieved to end the conversation. He turned his attention to Laurel and smothered a grin. The girl had an adorably smug look on her face. Ah, he enjoyed looking at her wonderfully expressive face. One day, she might look upon him with tender passion. Right now, he was the only one fighting off passionate urges. Laurel’s body was like a siren song calling to him with each graceful sway of her hips. “What deadly dull tale have you selected, lass?”
She tipped her chin upward and cast him a victorious grin. “Your grandmother mentioned that you enjoy Shakespeare, so I chose to read Titus Andronicus .”
He glanced at the freshly baked pies Watling had wheeled in on the tea cart. They were still hot, which intensified their cinnamon and apple aroma. The delightful scent tickled his nostrils. Titus Andronicus had a gory scene with a pie central to the story. Did Laurel know what that tragedy was about? Or know that two of the characters were baked in a pie and given to their unknowing mother to eat?
Eloise resumed her seat beside the door. “Laurel dear,” she spoke up with concern, “I don’t think this play is appropriate. It—”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Laurel insisted, plunking herself down on the stool and opening the book.
Graelem smothered another grin. Laurel was the sort of girl who only became further entrenched in her position if told she should not or could not do something. It hadn’t taken Graelem long to figure out that quirk in her character, and he was surprised that his grandmother had yet to discover it. Then again, Laurel adored Eloise and always sought to please her.
“Is there a reason you chose this particular story?” he asked. “Other than simply because I enjoy his works?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
He waited for her to explain, and when no explanation was forthcoming, he merely arched an eyebrow. “Very well, get on with it. And when you tire of reading, we can simply talk. I’d like to learn more about you.”
“I have no wish to learn anything about you.” She tipped her chin upward again. “We won’t be marrying. I hope never to see you again once my punishment is over.” She paused a moment and looked down at her toes. “But thank you for saving Brutus.”
She paused again, raised her gaze to his, and opened her mouth to speak. Shaking her head, she clamped her mouth shut. He grew curious when she repeated the process, opening that perfectly shaped mouth of hers that was meant to be kissed often and thoroughly, and then quickly closing it. “What’s on your mind, lass?”
She fidgeted a moment, took a deep breath, and then looked him squarely in the eye. “Will you sell Brutus to me once Father calms down and permits me to have him back?”
“No.”
She shot to her feet and was about to drop the forgotten Titus Andronicus on her toes, but he caught the book in time. “Hell and damnation,” he said with a yelp, for the quick movement
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