Read Online My Runaway Heart by Miriam Minger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Miriam Minger
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wanted to, but it seemed her eyelids
were stuck to her lower lashes, either that or the
sensation was some dire warning that she should keep her eyes firmly closed.
She could tell it was daylight. Her bedchamber was
always bright in the morning, especially on sunny mornings. And she knew it was
brilliant outside for the warm rays slanting across her face, which made her slit her eyes to take a peek.
"Oh . . . oh, no." Her fresh groan like a
banshee's shriek inside her aching head, Lindsay now knew why she should well
keep her eyes shut, the sunlight blinding her. She rolled onto her stomach and
lay there limp as a rag, wishing she had something to drink to wash the
unpleasant taste of ale from her mouth. Oh, Lord, ale . . .
"Good morning, miss, and a fine morning it is,
too! I've brought yer breakfast."
Lindsay didn't move except for a feeble flutter of her
hand, Matilda's cheery voice making her wince.
"My, my, miss, ye're looking a bit peaked—wan as a ghost, I'd say. I hope ye're not coming down with a cold."
Anything, Lindsay thought miserably, a nasty cold, a
fever, anything would be better than
how she felt at that moment.
"I-I'm fine, Matilda—well, not truly," she
somehow managed, attempting a second time to open her eyes. "I fear
something I ate or drank at the Whimseys ' card party
last night didn't agree with me."
"Aye, that tiny bit of sherry, no doubt."
Matilda had spoken so sharply that Lindsay lifted her
head, but the stout Scotswoman was busy sprinkling what appeared to be loose
tea into a cup of steaming water.
"Is . . . is that for me?"
"Ha! Surely not for me, lass. I've no headache
such as the one plaguing ye this bright morning."
"Headache . . . how—"
"Never ye mind . Just roll yerself over and sit up so ye can drink."
Matilda cut her off sternly, her deep brown eyes fixed on Lindsay as she held
out the cup. " Ye'll feel better after a sip or
two of my willow bark tea, but, Lord knows, mayhap I should just let ye suffer."
Lindsay was so stunned she couldn't but obey, no matter
that her head seemed to pound all the more as she lifted herself to a sitting
position. With trembling hands she took the cup and brought it to her lips,
which made the Scotswoman cluck her tongue disapprovingly.
"Aye, from the look of ye when Lord Giles carried ye into the house at three this morn, I'd say ye're lucky to be awake before noon. Stunk like a drunken
sailor, ye did—"
"You saw the Earl of Dov —I
mean me? Both of us?"
Matilda's brusque nod made Lindsay gulp, fragmented
memories of the night before falling together like a puzzle in her mind.
What shall we do
with a drunken sailor? What shall we do —
She grimaced and shoved the bawdy drinking song from
her thoughts even as she was struck by another foggy recollection of her
drumming on Jared's lower back and his . . . his—oh, dear, she hadn't, had she?
Her face burning, Lindsay slumped against the
headboard.
"Now, now, miss, drink yer tea. The world hasn't come to an end. Lord Giles assured me he laid no hand
upon ye—I made him swear an oath ye're a virgin
still."
"Matilda!"
"Aye, and rightly so I did! ' Tis not my place to be judging yer actions, but I can't imagine what possessed ye to traipse so late from the house,
and ye being a proper-brought-up young lady! Certainly the earl's a
fine-looking man, but ye heard well what Lady Penney thinks of him."
"Oh, no, Aunt Winnie!" Lindsay had nearly
dropped the cup, the hot tea she gulped scalding her throat. "She doesn't
know about last night, does she?"
"Know? Have ye any sense in yer head, lass? If I told my mistress of yer doings, she'd
fall to her bed with the vapors and mayhap never arise!"
Relief flooding through her, Lindsay set the teacup on
the bedside table and looked earnestly at Matilda. "And she must never
know, you must promise me, please promise me. I wouldn't want to hurt her, she's
been so kind."
"Aye, so she has. But if I hold my tongue, what
will ye promise me
were stuck to her lower lashes, either that or the
sensation was some dire warning that she should keep her eyes firmly closed.
She could tell it was daylight. Her bedchamber was
always bright in the morning, especially on sunny mornings. And she knew it was
brilliant outside for the warm rays slanting across her face, which made her slit her eyes to take a peek.
"Oh . . . oh, no." Her fresh groan like a
banshee's shriek inside her aching head, Lindsay now knew why she should well
keep her eyes shut, the sunlight blinding her. She rolled onto her stomach and
lay there limp as a rag, wishing she had something to drink to wash the
unpleasant taste of ale from her mouth. Oh, Lord, ale . . .
"Good morning, miss, and a fine morning it is,
too! I've brought yer breakfast."
Lindsay didn't move except for a feeble flutter of her
hand, Matilda's cheery voice making her wince.
"My, my, miss, ye're looking a bit peaked—wan as a ghost, I'd say. I hope ye're not coming down with a cold."
Anything, Lindsay thought miserably, a nasty cold, a
fever, anything would be better than
how she felt at that moment.
"I-I'm fine, Matilda—well, not truly," she
somehow managed, attempting a second time to open her eyes. "I fear
something I ate or drank at the Whimseys ' card party
last night didn't agree with me."
"Aye, that tiny bit of sherry, no doubt."
Matilda had spoken so sharply that Lindsay lifted her
head, but the stout Scotswoman was busy sprinkling what appeared to be loose
tea into a cup of steaming water.
"Is . . . is that for me?"
"Ha! Surely not for me, lass. I've no headache
such as the one plaguing ye this bright morning."
"Headache . . . how—"
"Never ye mind . Just roll yerself over and sit up so ye can drink."
Matilda cut her off sternly, her deep brown eyes fixed on Lindsay as she held
out the cup. " Ye'll feel better after a sip or
two of my willow bark tea, but, Lord knows, mayhap I should just let ye suffer."
Lindsay was so stunned she couldn't but obey, no matter
that her head seemed to pound all the more as she lifted herself to a sitting
position. With trembling hands she took the cup and brought it to her lips,
which made the Scotswoman cluck her tongue disapprovingly.
"Aye, from the look of ye when Lord Giles carried ye into the house at three this morn, I'd say ye're lucky to be awake before noon. Stunk like a drunken
sailor, ye did—"
"You saw the Earl of Dov —I
mean me? Both of us?"
Matilda's brusque nod made Lindsay gulp, fragmented
memories of the night before falling together like a puzzle in her mind.
What shall we do
with a drunken sailor? What shall we do —
She grimaced and shoved the bawdy drinking song from
her thoughts even as she was struck by another foggy recollection of her
drumming on Jared's lower back and his . . . his—oh, dear, she hadn't, had she?
Her face burning, Lindsay slumped against the
headboard.
"Now, now, miss, drink yer tea. The world hasn't come to an end. Lord Giles assured me he laid no hand
upon ye—I made him swear an oath ye're a virgin
still."
"Matilda!"
"Aye, and rightly so I did! ' Tis not my place to be judging yer actions, but I can't imagine what possessed ye to traipse so late from the house,
and ye being a proper-brought-up young lady! Certainly the earl's a
fine-looking man, but ye heard well what Lady Penney thinks of him."
"Oh, no, Aunt Winnie!" Lindsay had nearly
dropped the cup, the hot tea she gulped scalding her throat. "She doesn't
know about last night, does she?"
"Know? Have ye any sense in yer head, lass? If I told my mistress of yer doings, she'd
fall to her bed with the vapors and mayhap never arise!"
Relief flooding through her, Lindsay set the teacup on
the bedside table and looked earnestly at Matilda. "And she must never
know, you must promise me, please promise me. I wouldn't want to hurt her, she's
been so kind."
"Aye, so she has. But if I hold my tongue, what
will ye promise me
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