are dining with your new neighbors and a vicar. It doesn’t get more boring than that.”
She raised a brow at him, but said nothing. Boring was not the word to describe how he felt about Maris and she knew it.
Finally she sighed. “People will gossip.”
“You know what? People always gossip. What they don’t know, they’ll make up. I’m afraid you are the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to Shere. A real live countess in their midst. If you wanted total privacy, you should have gone elsewhere. The moon, perhaps. The Arctic Circle. But I can’t tell you how glad I am you are here next to me.”
“Don’t expect too much from it,” Maris demurred, though she didn’t move away.
“Even a countess cannot deny a man his dreams.” They were getting close to Merrywood’s gate. Reyn had affixed a sign to it just that afternoon; the paint was probably still wet. “Have you given any thought to our kiss?”
“That’s a presumptuous question, Captain.”
“Presumptuous is my middle name. Or would it be Presumption? I seem to have missed my chance on the road, but the stable will provide the necessary privacy, as long as you don’t mind the girls looking on.”
“You are being ridiculous, Reyn.”
She hadn’t said no. He’d have to be careful not to muss her, make sure there were no telltale bits of straw on her bottom. Of course there wouldn’t be. He couldn’t very well lure her into a stall and toss up her skirts as much as he wanted to. He’d have to refrain from sliding his fingers into her pinned-up hair, undoing the cunning jet buttons on her bodice, nipping her long white neck. And freeing her voluptuous breasts, which seemed a bit larger than he remembered.
And he remembered everything.
“Here we are. It’s a pleasant aspect, is it not?” Every time he rode down his lane, he felt a little jolt of pride. The whitewashed stone dwelling at the end of it had begun its life as a humble farmhouse, and several additions had been tacked on over the last century. The roof was thatch, and a clutch of early climbing roses framed the front door. True, he had to duck his head to enter that door, which had taken some getting used to. The outbuildings had been painted to match the house, so everything was blisteringly white and fresh. Reyn knew it was necessary to appear prosperous even if he wasn’t yet. His potential customers should be impressed.
His hard work was worth the smile on Maris’s face.
“Oh! This is lovely, Reyn!”
“This is more or less my first home, too. My parents weren’t much for sticking around to one place. Always fleeing creditors, you know. But I expect that mobility prepared me for the army. I never knew where I’d wake up next.”
“That must have been difficult for a little boy. I never lived anywhere but Kelby Hall.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Not at all.”
Reyn turned to her in surprise.
“It’s true. I’m quite content at the Grange. I told you I was happy with simple things.”
Excellent. Then there was hope for him. He was simple as they came.
“Let’s get you to the stables before Ginny gets her hands on you.”
“I don’t wish to appear rude.”
“Not at all. She knows you’re going to tour the barns with me first. I’m anxious to hear what you think.”
They rolled into the yard and young Jack came scurrying out to help. The boy was his only help at present, which would soon have to change. Reyn jumped down and helped Maris out, forcing himself not to leave his hands on her too long. They entered the largest cool dark building, horses whickering in greeting. The scent of horse manure was almost entirely absent. As instructed, Jack had been busy.
“Give me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light before I ooh and ahh,” Maris said.
“You needn’t try to turn me up sweet. I know Merrywood’s limitations.” He’d worked like the devil to correct most of them, though.
“Reyn, I can tell already you’ve done a wonderful job here. Everything is . . . gleaming. The boxes are much larger than usual, aren’t they?”
“For the foals, when they come. It disturbs the horses to move into roomier quarters once they’ve given birth. Best to start them out in a larger space.” He’d ripped out every original stall himself over the winter, carefully measuring its replacement.
Maris reached for a long cinnamon-colored nose and stroked it. “Pretty girl,” she whispered. She opened her reticule