Read Online Most Improper Miss Sophie Valentine by Jayne Fresina - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jayne Fresina
Ads: Link
fit through it well enough one way without an invitation. I daresay youâll fit through it quicker going out again with my boot up your backside.â
Henry gathered another lungful of arrogance, took one last scornful sweep of the house interior, and then strode out the door, his hat almost knocked off his head by the low lintel.
Lazarus kicked the door shut behind him.
Evidently, the lady had changed her mind and sent her ridiculous brother to warn him off. He looked down at his rough hands. No amount of fine clothing, it seemed, could cover all his worn edges, although heâd imagined they shared a spark of understanding when they met. That kiss under the tree yesterday had surely lit her flame as much as it did his. Her tongue had not withdrawn from his, and when he felt her move against him, it was not to push away. She was ready to explore. Perhaps, he thought grimly, it was merely wishful thinking on his part. The way she launched into him this afternoon for carrying her across a puddle would suggest she regretted giving him that kiss. Perhaps she didnât yet know what she wanted. Her brother plainly meant to stop her from marrying him, and if she already waveredâ¦
He glanced at the window, caught his frowning reflection there, and felt the heat of deep, fathomless anger bounced back at him. His time was running out. Hadnât he overcome enough obstacles to get here? His Maker clearly thought not.
âNothing stays secret long in this village, ye should know.â Tuck chuckled softly. ââTis an odd place for a feller to come, if he means to hide. Ye canât do that here.â
Lazarus rounded on him. âHide? Who said anything about hiding?â
Tuck nodded and smirked. âThatâs ye real name, is it, then?â he croaked wryly. âLazarus?â
He had no reply to that.
Tuck got on with his work, and Lazarus returned to his outside.
***
Her basket overflowed with wallflowers and anemones from the garden. Sophie moved quickly through the gate, the hem of her gown dampened by the dewy kiss of meadow grass. She took the long footpath to the church that evening, enjoying the sweet promise in the air and the low, comforting call of the wood pigeons. Her earlier bad temper had melted away. In fact, her thoughts were unusually merry, her spirit several pounds lighter that evening, so she even hummed a tune as she walked along the shady pine grove amid the bluebells. The countryside was at peace as it settled in to embrace the evening, like a mother with her arms around a play-weary child.
She entered the church from the vestry door and stepped down into the cooler shade. Her nose twitched at the clammy odor of old stone. Time had its own scent here. All was peaceful, and she had no expectation of meeting anyone inside the church. But when she rounded a fat stone pillar, she discovered she was not alone.
The stranger sat in one of the front pews and was staring up at the tall, arched stained glass window above the pulpit. Luckily, she was walking along the strip of worn carpet that led from the vestry, so he hadnât seemed to have heard her steps yet. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she backed up a few steps, pressing her shoulders to the pillar. Once sheâd gathered her wits, she peered out again and saw him there still, recognizable by his thick black hair and broad shoulders. Usually, when people were at prayer, they bent their heads and knelt. But not him. He was gazing at the bejeweled colors of the tall, sun-drenched window, apparently absorbed in them.
While she watched, he scratched his left ear, revealing those rough hands again. Maria and Lavinia agreed he couldnât be a gentleman with hands like those, but at least the hands of Lazarus Kane wouldnât fumble with naïveté.
Instantly, she admonished herself. Stop it, you wanton hussy . What would the Grimstocks think? Had she not already made up her mind to keep that man at a
Henry gathered another lungful of arrogance, took one last scornful sweep of the house interior, and then strode out the door, his hat almost knocked off his head by the low lintel.
Lazarus kicked the door shut behind him.
Evidently, the lady had changed her mind and sent her ridiculous brother to warn him off. He looked down at his rough hands. No amount of fine clothing, it seemed, could cover all his worn edges, although heâd imagined they shared a spark of understanding when they met. That kiss under the tree yesterday had surely lit her flame as much as it did his. Her tongue had not withdrawn from his, and when he felt her move against him, it was not to push away. She was ready to explore. Perhaps, he thought grimly, it was merely wishful thinking on his part. The way she launched into him this afternoon for carrying her across a puddle would suggest she regretted giving him that kiss. Perhaps she didnât yet know what she wanted. Her brother plainly meant to stop her from marrying him, and if she already waveredâ¦
He glanced at the window, caught his frowning reflection there, and felt the heat of deep, fathomless anger bounced back at him. His time was running out. Hadnât he overcome enough obstacles to get here? His Maker clearly thought not.
âNothing stays secret long in this village, ye should know.â Tuck chuckled softly. ââTis an odd place for a feller to come, if he means to hide. Ye canât do that here.â
Lazarus rounded on him. âHide? Who said anything about hiding?â
Tuck nodded and smirked. âThatâs ye real name, is it, then?â he croaked wryly. âLazarus?â
He had no reply to that.
Tuck got on with his work, and Lazarus returned to his outside.
***
Her basket overflowed with wallflowers and anemones from the garden. Sophie moved quickly through the gate, the hem of her gown dampened by the dewy kiss of meadow grass. She took the long footpath to the church that evening, enjoying the sweet promise in the air and the low, comforting call of the wood pigeons. Her earlier bad temper had melted away. In fact, her thoughts were unusually merry, her spirit several pounds lighter that evening, so she even hummed a tune as she walked along the shady pine grove amid the bluebells. The countryside was at peace as it settled in to embrace the evening, like a mother with her arms around a play-weary child.
She entered the church from the vestry door and stepped down into the cooler shade. Her nose twitched at the clammy odor of old stone. Time had its own scent here. All was peaceful, and she had no expectation of meeting anyone inside the church. But when she rounded a fat stone pillar, she discovered she was not alone.
The stranger sat in one of the front pews and was staring up at the tall, arched stained glass window above the pulpit. Luckily, she was walking along the strip of worn carpet that led from the vestry, so he hadnât seemed to have heard her steps yet. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she backed up a few steps, pressing her shoulders to the pillar. Once sheâd gathered her wits, she peered out again and saw him there still, recognizable by his thick black hair and broad shoulders. Usually, when people were at prayer, they bent their heads and knelt. But not him. He was gazing at the bejeweled colors of the tall, sun-drenched window, apparently absorbed in them.
While she watched, he scratched his left ear, revealing those rough hands again. Maria and Lavinia agreed he couldnât be a gentleman with hands like those, but at least the hands of Lazarus Kane wouldnât fumble with naïveté.
Instantly, she admonished herself. Stop it, you wanton hussy . What would the Grimstocks think? Had she not already made up her mind to keep that man at a
Similar Books
