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“That will be lovely.” She made herself expel the admission though air seemed scarce right at that instant.
“We leave at dawn.” He darted her a meaningful look. “Unfortunately.” The word aired hoarsely.
The man proved skilled in making her blush. It meant he would not have a whole night to himself and their whatever it was they did. Her gaze lowered as the steam of wanting blew unbearable blasts in her insides.
The trip took a day, the earlier the better, she understood.
A
Edmund made it a point to travel on horseback as being confined in a carriage with Otilia would not be conducive of, say, healthy, civilised behaviour.
By the manor’s entrance, the driver helped her down into the late afternoon watery sun. The crisp breeze welcomed her as her hand held her bonnet, and her head turned around to absorb her surroundings with a light smile on her sensual lips. A contented sigh escaped those lips, which gave him this absurd sense of joy as though her happiness came first, a priority in his life.
The reinstated old butler, Richards, stepped in the front yard. “My Lord Thornton.” He bowed formally. But he turned to Otilia with a paternal smile. “Miss Kendall.”
Otilia displayed an open smile to the old man. “Richards. Good to see you.”
Edmund wondered at the reason of his undeniable jealousy. Perhaps because she seldom smiled so spontaneously at him, as if she constantly guarded herself, keeping a fraction of her emotions reserved, apart. The realisation did not gladden him, he must admit at least to himself.
The manor represented an entailed property for him. He grew up in London. Trips to the country happened seldom and far between. Later in life, his visits here had become more frequent. The journey here with her offered the notion that the country should be where the real existence took place.
“Likewise, miss,” the servant replied with a tender graveness.
“You must tell me how the fruit trees and the vegetable garden are faring.” She climbed up the steps to the entrance. “Do you think there will be plenty for jams, compotes and pickles?”
“I am sure there will, Miss Otilia.”
Just like that, it hit the Earl that she had returned to her element. That she knew much more about his manor than he did. That she had a connection he would take a long time to have with the land.
“I can barely wait to see them,” she said from inside.
A
Late next morning, Otilia stood in the orchard admiring the newly-bloomed apple tree, beaming at the opportunity to be back here and re-visit the place of her childhood. So engrossed she became, she did not hear someone approaching.
“Shall we go for a picnic?” Startled, she twisted to see Edmund holding a wicker basket. He had been checking ledgers in the study when she came to the orchard.
Tall, broad and wearing more comfortable clothes, he took the breadth of the entrance gate, crowned by greenery that brought out his dark looks. The inevitable blush suffused her at the sight of him.
A faint smile stretched her mouth, bringing his eyes to it. “A great idea, I must say.” And she walked towards him.
“As far as I remember, a lake lies just beyond the woods, am I right?”
“One of my favourite places,” she confessed.
Half an hour later, they spread the blanket on the grass under a huge tree by the artificial lake her uncle had made in the plentiful years. The late Earl, Countess and Otilia spent many a summer day at this spot in leisure.
Edmund served the wine, and they ate the cold fare the cook had prepared. The warm sun made up for the crisp air as countless birds sang, and small insects buzzed around them. A sound of appreciation came from her and caught his attention.
“I used to play a lot in these woods.” Her eyes surveyed to the surrounding area.
“Did you play alone?” he asked.
“No.” A wistful smile came to her. “I had a best friend, Maggie, the gardener’s daughter. We ran wild around here.”
His eyes never left her, but he kept silent as if waiting for more.
A sudden memory popped in her mind. “One day in winter we came to play here. We were about eight,” she started. “There was fresh snow on the ground, and we decided on hide-and-seek.” With a blind look at the lake, she laughed at the recollection. “I used the footprints we left on the snow and began to follow Maggie as she looked for a place to hide. When she least expected, I made the sound of a bear behind her and scared the living daylights out of the girl. She turned to me screaming.” Otilia covered her lips, trying to control her mirth. “When she saw it was me, we laughed so hard that we fell on the snow. A long time passed before we were able to stop.”
