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Authors: The Irresistible Earl
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sands.
The tide was low; he could not remember seeing it so far out. The stretch of gold seemed endless, the sails of the Scarborough fishing fleet mere dots on the horizon. Still, it was easy to spot the lone figure standing by the water’s edge. What was she doing?
Clucking to his horse, he rode down the sands, leaping over debris from the storm and the occasional rock. As he approached, he could see that she was moving, but so slowly she scarcely took one step for four of his horse’s. Her head was bowed, her handsclasped behind her back, and her skirts tucked up so that several inches of bare ankle and toes showed in the crisp morning air. He was so surprised he was reining in before her head snapped up.
“What are you doing?” she cried, rushing up the beach to him. Her hair was hastily tucked up on top of her head, gold strands flying every which way. He’d never realized gray eyes could look so fiery. “You get that great beast off this beach immediately!” She flung out an arm to point to the shore. “Immediately, sir!”
Her tone was so commanding, her face so determined, that Chase found himself complying without thinking. A shame Phoebe wasn’t younger, he thought—Meredee Price would make an outstanding governess.
Or a captain at arms.
He rode his horse back to the road lining the shore, dismounted and tied the bay to the ornamental iron railing that stretched the length of the beach. She had returned to her slow dance with the waves. More curious than concerned, he hurried back to her side.
“Behind me,” she ordered this time when he approached, and Chase fell obligingly, if mystified, in step behind her.
She took a step, head turning from side to side as if she were scanning the sands from about three feet to her left to the water’s edge on her right. That must be why she wore no bonnet; it might obscureher vision. She had a strong profile, nose straight and firm, though dotted by freckles, chin a bit on the determined side. That came as no surprise. Though her simple blue dress was clean and neat, it was patched in places, as if it had been worn often and in difficult circumstances. Waves rolled up to tease her feet, brushing her bare skin like lover’s fingers.
He snapped his gaze higher.
“What,” he ventured, “are you searching for, Miss Price?”
“A tellina incarnata, my lord.”
He struggled to remember his Latin. “And what would that be?”
“A seashell, Lord Allyndale.”
Chase blinked. Then he increased his stride, grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Do you mean to tell me you ran away from my home, ordered me to abandon my horse and nearly scared the life out of me for a seashell!”
Meredee recoiled from him. His handsome face was florid, his blue eyes narrowed to slits. If he’d looked like that when she faced him across a dueling field, she thought she might have turned and fled, and honor be forfeited. She shook his hand off her shoulder, raised her head and took a step back. “I told Mrs. Downthistle when I left. You had no reason to be concerned.”
“You leave before dawn and expect me not to wonder?”
“It was a good few minutes after dawn. And frankly, my lord, after your sister stomped back to her room with you last night, I thought you’d be relieved that I’d left.”
“Nonsense.” He seemed to be calming. The red was fading, and his breath came more slowly if the gentle rise and fall of his paisley waistcoat and bottle-green coat were any indication. “You were my guest. Of course I wished to know you were safe.”
Meredee spread her hands. “As you can see, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, and good day, my lord.”
She turned, determined to put him out of her mind. She only had a short time. It wouldn’t do to waste it mooning over the way the sun gilded his hair and the breeze ruffled it tenderly. Shading her eyes with one hand, she gazed down the shore toward the lighthouse instead. She still had a third of the
The tide was low; he could not remember seeing it so far out. The stretch of gold seemed endless, the sails of the Scarborough fishing fleet mere dots on the horizon. Still, it was easy to spot the lone figure standing by the water’s edge. What was she doing?
Clucking to his horse, he rode down the sands, leaping over debris from the storm and the occasional rock. As he approached, he could see that she was moving, but so slowly she scarcely took one step for four of his horse’s. Her head was bowed, her handsclasped behind her back, and her skirts tucked up so that several inches of bare ankle and toes showed in the crisp morning air. He was so surprised he was reining in before her head snapped up.
“What are you doing?” she cried, rushing up the beach to him. Her hair was hastily tucked up on top of her head, gold strands flying every which way. He’d never realized gray eyes could look so fiery. “You get that great beast off this beach immediately!” She flung out an arm to point to the shore. “Immediately, sir!”
Her tone was so commanding, her face so determined, that Chase found himself complying without thinking. A shame Phoebe wasn’t younger, he thought—Meredee Price would make an outstanding governess.
Or a captain at arms.
He rode his horse back to the road lining the shore, dismounted and tied the bay to the ornamental iron railing that stretched the length of the beach. She had returned to her slow dance with the waves. More curious than concerned, he hurried back to her side.
“Behind me,” she ordered this time when he approached, and Chase fell obligingly, if mystified, in step behind her.
She took a step, head turning from side to side as if she were scanning the sands from about three feet to her left to the water’s edge on her right. That must be why she wore no bonnet; it might obscureher vision. She had a strong profile, nose straight and firm, though dotted by freckles, chin a bit on the determined side. That came as no surprise. Though her simple blue dress was clean and neat, it was patched in places, as if it had been worn often and in difficult circumstances. Waves rolled up to tease her feet, brushing her bare skin like lover’s fingers.
He snapped his gaze higher.
“What,” he ventured, “are you searching for, Miss Price?”
“A tellina incarnata, my lord.”
He struggled to remember his Latin. “And what would that be?”
“A seashell, Lord Allyndale.”
Chase blinked. Then he increased his stride, grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Do you mean to tell me you ran away from my home, ordered me to abandon my horse and nearly scared the life out of me for a seashell!”
Meredee recoiled from him. His handsome face was florid, his blue eyes narrowed to slits. If he’d looked like that when she faced him across a dueling field, she thought she might have turned and fled, and honor be forfeited. She shook his hand off her shoulder, raised her head and took a step back. “I told Mrs. Downthistle when I left. You had no reason to be concerned.”
“You leave before dawn and expect me not to wonder?”
“It was a good few minutes after dawn. And frankly, my lord, after your sister stomped back to her room with you last night, I thought you’d be relieved that I’d left.”
“Nonsense.” He seemed to be calming. The red was fading, and his breath came more slowly if the gentle rise and fall of his paisley waistcoat and bottle-green coat were any indication. “You were my guest. Of course I wished to know you were safe.”
Meredee spread her hands. “As you can see, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, and good day, my lord.”
She turned, determined to put him out of her mind. She only had a short time. It wouldn’t do to waste it mooning over the way the sun gilded his hair and the breeze ruffled it tenderly. Shading her eyes with one hand, she gazed down the shore toward the lighthouse instead. She still had a third of the
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