My One and Only Earl (Forever Yours #12) - Stacy Reid Page 0,30

blossomed over her face. “Please explain your command. Is everything well, James?”

His throat was uncomfortably tight. It was disorienting. “Yes. We will converse with this space between us.”

Despite bare light from the lantern and the pale moonlight, awareness flashed in her silver eyes. They were their own spark in the darkness, rare and beautiful. But she knew what he meant, and a tinge of pink colored her cheeks.

“I love the countryside,” she said softly, sinking her hands into the pocket of his greatcoat. “Not only do I sneak from my bed to tinker around in the kitchen and cook. Often, I would go outside on the lawns, run as fast as I can with my hands held wide away from my body and scream.”

“Scream?”

She laughed lightly. “Yes. To release all the frustrations I felt in the day. After a few times of being out here, it became another ritual of peace…or joy, there is a sort of defiant freedom of being outside, fully awake while the rest of the world sleeps.”

He leaned on the back of his bench and crossed his feet at the ankles. Her gaze followed his actions, and she smiled at his stocking-clad feet but made no comment.

“It is well after midnight, closer to two in the morning. Are you never afraid?”

“Of what?”

“An unexpected visitor.”

“Well, we hardly get those in the countryside.” Poppy took her hand out of her pocket and did a very silly action of lifting her hands in the shape of claws and wriggling her fingers. “Or did you mean like a ghost?” she asked in an exaggerated whisper.

She was laughing at him, and unexpectedly James found himself smiling. Her sweet laugh sunk deep inside his bones, filling him with a warmth that banished the chill of the night.

“When I first saw you running across the lawns with your hands held open…I admit for a wild moment I thought you were Mary.”

“And who might Mary be?”

“The ghost that roam the halls and chambers of our manor and who sometimes traverses into the woodlands. Daphne did not tell you about her?” James asked, breaking his rule by standing and drifting a bit closer to her.

“Daphne most certainly did not,” Poppy said, eyeing him skeptically.

“Mary is our Scottish great-great-great-grandmother. Once your room gets very cold, it means Mary has come to visit you. You’ll see her in the hallways or by the lake, a lady in a white dress, red hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. She would be singing, and once you hear it, it never leaves you. Mary has the loveliest voice, singing in Gaelic—haunting and mournful. Once you see her…and feel her sign...” James mocked shuddered.

Poppy’s eyes were wide and rapt with interest. “Her sign?”

“Yes, Mary tickles a part of your body,”

Poppy’s brow puckered in a frown. “Why would she do that?”

“I can only tell you the tale as I hear it.”

“Where does she touch?”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. Predictably Poppy leaned closer. “Mary tickled her victims' left ears.”

“Victims!” Poppy gasped, then released a muffled shriek, slapped at her ear, and whirled around.

James quickly dropped his hand and dropped the flower petal on the ground, taking several quick steps back from her. “What is it?”

She turned around slowly and narrowed her eyes at you. “You beast!”

“What is this accusation about?” he drawled.

“You tickled my ear just now.”

James affected a show of surprise. “Do not be daft. How would I have managed that? Do you hear any singing?”

To his everlasting shock, she launched herself at him and wrapped her hands around his neck. “Confess, or I shall kiss you.”

Chapter 9

“You…You…bloody hell!” James was spluttering. He never spluttered. He was a man of confidence and self-control.

Tell me, or I shall kiss you.

He glared down at the little baggage in his arms, shocked that he could feel the imprint of every luscious curve across his body. This intimately close, the subtle but fragrant scent of her invaded his senses. The feel of her fingers against his nape sent a spark of want through his entire body. His mouth watered. Breathing this close to her felt…impossible. James could not catch his breath. She knew he wanted to keep his distance and was using it to her diabolical advantage.

“Have you no sense of propriety?” he hissed, angrier with himself than her, for every damn sense had come alive in his body. His heart and his cock pounded with lust and such hunger it almost scared him.

“Nay,” she hissed back at him, albeit more teasingly. “Spinsters long