“Father does not like to try anything new.” Tristan’s horse, picking up on the tension in his voice, began to jog forward.Unthinkingly, Mirrie nudged her horse to catch up. “Honestly, Mirrie. These things bother me less in times of unrest. But if we are to know peace, oft times I think I might follow in Jonah’s footsteps and hide away at Ember Hall.”
“Really?” She felt her eyebrows shoot upwards as she balanced with one hand on her horse’s withers.
Tristan did not appear to hear her. “Wolvesley has known decades of peace and prosperity under my father’s rule. He is well-respected.”
“Well-loved, I would say,” Mirrie interjected, relieved when both horses slowed back to a walk.
“Aye, true enough.” Tristan smiled at her ruefully. “He asks me why I am so intent on bringing change to an estate that is already flourishing.”
“He has your best interests at heart.” Mirrie was staunch in her defence.
“Father has what hethinksare my best interests at heart,” Tristan corrected her, before shaking his golden head. “Forgive me. I am talking too much. You must tell me when I am being a bore.”
You could never be that.
“I certainly shall,” she said out loud.
Around the next bend they found Tristan’s men waiting with a picnic rug spread out in a grassy clearing and a hamper of food being unpacked. They reined in their horses beneath the shade of an oak tree and Tristan bounded to the ground with enviable ease.
“Let me help you down.”
He held up his arms for Mirrie, leaving her little choice but to lean into them as she slid from her horse’s back. Tristan’s grip was strong and steady, he smiled down at her, haloed by the sun.
“Thank you,” she managed.
It felt like years earlier that Mirrie had arranged bread, cheese, apples and skins of cider for their lunch. The Wolvesley guards seated themselves near the grazing horses, talking companionably between themselves as they ate. Tristan flung himself onto the rug and tore into the bread, chewing hungrily. Mirrie lowered herself down with as much dignity as her stiff and aching legs would allow. Trees provided dappled shade, a relief from the noon-day sun. What she really wanted to do was lay back and close her eyes, to fix this moment in her mind forever.
Birds singing. A faint breeze. And Tristan. All to myself.
“Are you not eating?”
She reached for some bread and cheese, overly aware of Tristan’s proximity as she bit into it.
’Twas difficult to be delicate and ladylike whilst sitting on the ground, her long skirts twisted uncomfortably beneath her.
“I am famished,” he declared. “But I did not break my fast before we left because I did not wish to keep you waiting.”
She stilled her inner voice, which wanted to tell him that he should have prioritised his own comfort. That she would have waited for him. Because shewouldwait for himendlessly. But if Tristan really was her brother, and she really thought of him as such, then she would be more inclined to scold him. And since that was what he doubtless expected from her, she should craft her response accordingly.
Once again summoning her best imitation of Frida, Mirrie retorted, “All because you slept in too late.”
He glinted at her. “Aye, milady.”
It cost too much effort to hold his laughing gaze without blushing. Mirrie turned her attention to a rosy red apple, enjoying the burst of sweet juice on her tongue.
“’Tis good to have you with me,” he said, unexpectedly. “Speaking the truth and keeping me on my toes. Like Esme, perchance, but better.”
“Better how?” Mirrie raised her eyebrows. “Because I do not demand your opinion on bonnets and ribbons?”
“That would be reason enough, to be sure, but your greatest charm is that you allow me to finish my sentences and most times listen to what I have to say.” Tristan brushed crumbs from his tunic and leaned back on his elbows, tipping back his head to look into the canopy of leaves above them.
Mirrie averted her eyes so as not to be caught staring at the chiselled perfection of his cheekbones. She made herself remember that Tristan thought of her with nothing more than brotherly affection.
In short, he was not for her.
But oh, how her heart wanted him.
“I must tell you again how grateful I am for your help with this particular situation.”
