Read Online Patricia Rice by This Magic Moment - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: This Magic Moment
Ads: Link
ready shortly,” he said. “I’ll wait downstairs until you’re in bed.”
She tilted her head to study him in that manner he recognized.
“Your lust is showing, Harry. I’ll unbar the door after I’m done.”
Maidens shouldn’t notice such things, but knowing she did aroused him even more. With a muttered imprecation, he adjusted his breeches, grabbed his coat, and went down the stairs, shouting at the innkeeper to bring up the bath.
Five
Harry’s black mood returned the next day as they rode into Sussex. As a boy, he’d loved growing up in the countryside, rambling through the Roman ruins that were scattered across the landscape.
The death of his mother when he was sixteen had sent him straight down the old Roman road into London in a desperate bid to escape his father’s grief. Rather than recall the pain of those days and his father’s subsequent mental deterioration, Harry watched Christina.
When he’d returned to their bed the previous night, she had been slumbering as if exhausted. Beyond an indecipherable murmur, she hadn’t noticed his arrival. He’d almost laughed at the man’s shirt she’d donned as nightshift. Only Christina would wear so outrageous a honeymoon garment. Her true nature might be utterly hopeless for a duchess, but Harry found her lack of pretension refreshing in an otherwise uncertain world.
Given the state of his arousal, he’d thought never to find sleep after he climbed in beside her. But these past weeks must have taken their toll on him. He’d slept the sleep of a babe with his wife snuggled against him.
This morning, she had been awake and dressed and ordering breakfast before he was ready to greet the light of day.
She was avoiding him like a skittish mare, sending him flirtatious looks, then skipping away. He wasn’t at all displeased with their courtship so far. It wouldn’t have been fair to bed her last night and then expect her to ride a full day’s journey today.
Seeing the familiar stand of oaks at a bend in the road, dreading what lay ahead, Harry dallied, letting the sway of Christina’s hips on the horse distract him. He was torn between opposing desires to wallow in lust or strike out across the field to relieve his tension in a good gallop.
Since clouds were forming out at sea, and he didn’t want Christina caught in a squall alone, he spurred his horse to ride beside her.
“The churchyard is in dire need of work,” she said, reining in as they passed the parish church.
Harry frowned at the overgrown graveyard and walkway. “Perhaps the village is no longer using it.”
He’d been visiting in Oxford when word had finally reached him of the tragic deaths of his father and brother. The winter roads had been impassable. By the time he’d ridden as far as London, his family had already been laid in the family mausoleum. Perhaps the vicar had used the estate chapel for the funeral.
He wished he could have attended. Some part of him still couldn’t believe he wouldn’t see stout Edward riding down the road to greet him, or that his father wouldn’t be leaning against the gatehouse when he rode up.
“The church roof looks rotted on that rear corner,” he noted, striving for unconcern. “I’ve not been this way in some years, and my father seldom wrote of village affairs.”
“It seems a shame. That’s a fine stand of rowans in the yard. I’d wager there’s been a church of some sort here since the beginning of time.”
“I believe they found traces of a Roman mosaic in the cellar. Maybe the villagers decided they didn’t wish to worship in a pagan place.” Harry didn’t believe his own words but rode on. Coming home incognito was an excellent idea, he decided. He’d sent word ahead that he’d be arriving, but everyone would be expecting a caravan of carriages. He could study the situation more closely arriving quietly on horseback.
“That must be the village.” Christina eagerly leaned forward in her seat to gaze upon
She tilted her head to study him in that manner he recognized.
“Your lust is showing, Harry. I’ll unbar the door after I’m done.”
Maidens shouldn’t notice such things, but knowing she did aroused him even more. With a muttered imprecation, he adjusted his breeches, grabbed his coat, and went down the stairs, shouting at the innkeeper to bring up the bath.
Five
Harry’s black mood returned the next day as they rode into Sussex. As a boy, he’d loved growing up in the countryside, rambling through the Roman ruins that were scattered across the landscape.
The death of his mother when he was sixteen had sent him straight down the old Roman road into London in a desperate bid to escape his father’s grief. Rather than recall the pain of those days and his father’s subsequent mental deterioration, Harry watched Christina.
When he’d returned to their bed the previous night, she had been slumbering as if exhausted. Beyond an indecipherable murmur, she hadn’t noticed his arrival. He’d almost laughed at the man’s shirt she’d donned as nightshift. Only Christina would wear so outrageous a honeymoon garment. Her true nature might be utterly hopeless for a duchess, but Harry found her lack of pretension refreshing in an otherwise uncertain world.
Given the state of his arousal, he’d thought never to find sleep after he climbed in beside her. But these past weeks must have taken their toll on him. He’d slept the sleep of a babe with his wife snuggled against him.
This morning, she had been awake and dressed and ordering breakfast before he was ready to greet the light of day.
She was avoiding him like a skittish mare, sending him flirtatious looks, then skipping away. He wasn’t at all displeased with their courtship so far. It wouldn’t have been fair to bed her last night and then expect her to ride a full day’s journey today.
Seeing the familiar stand of oaks at a bend in the road, dreading what lay ahead, Harry dallied, letting the sway of Christina’s hips on the horse distract him. He was torn between opposing desires to wallow in lust or strike out across the field to relieve his tension in a good gallop.
Since clouds were forming out at sea, and he didn’t want Christina caught in a squall alone, he spurred his horse to ride beside her.
“The churchyard is in dire need of work,” she said, reining in as they passed the parish church.
Harry frowned at the overgrown graveyard and walkway. “Perhaps the village is no longer using it.”
He’d been visiting in Oxford when word had finally reached him of the tragic deaths of his father and brother. The winter roads had been impassable. By the time he’d ridden as far as London, his family had already been laid in the family mausoleum. Perhaps the vicar had used the estate chapel for the funeral.
He wished he could have attended. Some part of him still couldn’t believe he wouldn’t see stout Edward riding down the road to greet him, or that his father wouldn’t be leaning against the gatehouse when he rode up.
“The church roof looks rotted on that rear corner,” he noted, striving for unconcern. “I’ve not been this way in some years, and my father seldom wrote of village affairs.”
“It seems a shame. That’s a fine stand of rowans in the yard. I’d wager there’s been a church of some sort here since the beginning of time.”
“I believe they found traces of a Roman mosaic in the cellar. Maybe the villagers decided they didn’t wish to worship in a pagan place.” Harry didn’t believe his own words but rode on. Coming home incognito was an excellent idea, he decided. He’d sent word ahead that he’d be arriving, but everyone would be expecting a caravan of carriages. He could study the situation more closely arriving quietly on horseback.
“That must be the village.” Christina eagerly leaned forward in her seat to gaze upon
Similar Books
