Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,31

Dan stood in front of the easel, examining her painting again, now that it had dried completely.

“What will you do with it?” he asked her.

“Nothing, I shouldn’t think. Add it to the pile still in the schoolroom, probably.”

“May I have it?”

She looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“I like it.”

“Then, of course, you may have it. I’m flattered. So long as you don’t use it to wrap your breakfast in tomorrow.”

He laughed and detached it from the easel. He rolled it into a scroll and slid it into the long pocket of his overcoat. The sun was getting higher, and he knew it was time she was going back.

He folded up the easel. “I’ll walk with you part of the way and carry your burden.”

“There’s no need, you know. I am not such a weakling as I look.”

“But I am. I need the exercise.” He whistled to Gun, while she looked him critically up and down.

“No, you’re not,” she argued. “You look very thin, but your shoulders are broad and…” She broke off, blushing. “And I think you’re probably pretty strong,” she finished in a rush. “Sorry. I’m too comfortable with you. I say exactly what comes into my head.”

“Good,” he said, then added, “So far.”

With Juliet carrying the blanket, and Dan the easel and his overcoat, they walked through the woods, Gun trotting happily at their heels. From their comfortable chatter, he learned little bits about her childhood and her family, which both sounded completely different from his. He had run wild in army camps, and after his father’s death, he was brought up only by his mother. Apart from her, his only family stared through him or made rude comments on their very few encounters. Or laid down the law like his grandfather.

As they compared these matters, he said, “You might even know my Aunt Tabetha. She claims acquaintance with your mother, Mrs. Cornwell.”

She thought about it. “Does she have a very proper and slightly stiff son?”

“Cousin Colin,” he recognized without difficulty.

“Then, yes, I have met them both. Imagine her being your Aunt Tabetha! What of your other aunt? Will I know her, too?”

“Mrs. Ames. She’s not as…forceful as Tabetha.”

“I can’t think of an Ames,” she said, disappointed. “Except Mr. Hugh Ames, who is positively the height of fashion.”

Dan grinned. “All fobs and quizzing glasses and the most outrageous waistcoats.”

“He is your cousin?” Juliet exclaimed with apparent delight. “He took tea with Lady Alford one day wearing a pink coat!”

“I was never sure whether the fashionable world regarded him as a leader or a figure of fun,” he admitted.

“Neither is the fashionable world, I suspect! I rather like him, though. He is very good-natured and dances most gracefully.”

Dan nodded since this was pretty much his own opinion of Hugh. “I prefer him to Colin, but I can’t say I really know either of them.”

“I wonder if they will call on us?” Juliet mused. “If they—”

Gun’s soft growling caught Dan’s attention first. His hackles were up. Dan seized Juliet’s hand on the leash, and she stopped talking at once.

Someone was approaching along the path, humming to himself.

As one, she and Dan veered off the path into the trees, dragging Gun with them. Juliet dived behind a large oak tree, and Dan propped up the easel there to set about distracting Gun, for the dog, picking up their alarm, was clearly about to have at the approaching enemy with his usual rifle-shot bark. Crouching down, Dan used both hands to ruffle the dog’s head and scratch behind his ears. Surprised but grateful, Gun licked his wrist but tried to scrabble toward the threat, the incipient bark rumbling still in his throat.

Juliet caught on, hastily removing one glove and stroking Gun’s back. She had her hands well-licked in return, but she didn’t stop, and in the end, this game seemed more fun to the witless creature than barking. He sank down and rolled on his back to have his tummy tickled by them both.

Peering through the undergrowth, Dan saw a man stride by with a gun over his arm. It looked like a fowling-piece, and sure enough, Juliet whispered, “It’s Campbell, the gamekeeper.”

Dan, suddenly more concerned with the effect of her breath against his ear and her soft warmth against his shoulder, could only nod and try to keep scratching Gun’s belly. It was difficult, when all his senses focused on her, her fresh, feminine scent that reminded him of flowers and orange trees and the spices of the east, and yet was