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“I do not think- “ She started.
“It will be my pleasure.” He interrupted her shameless, with a smug half-smile. “If you will meet me in the inner bailey tomorrow morning, my lady.”
She fulminated him with her furious eyes as her lips designed a genteel smile. “Thank you for inviting, my lord.”
Dinner finished, Romulus retired to his solar, whilst the ladies took tea in the drawing room upstairs. Lady Derby entertained her with stories from her nephews’ childhood and she found she enjoyed the older woman’s company.
“You do seem to have participated a lot in the boys’ life, Lady Derby.” Annabel commented, still laughing at the older woman’s last story.
“Indeed, my dear.” His aunt took a sip of her tea. “They lost their mother too early, poor things.”
Annabel’s shocked surprise showed all over her expression. “I did not hear of that.” Naturally, she knew he had lost his mother by the time they met that summer, but he never told her the details.
“Sorrowful fact, I tell you.” Aunt Charlotte’s features acquired a sad hue. “Amandine was French you realise.”
“What happened?” Annabel had always wondered.
The cup rested on the side table, the lady continued. “The Revolution exploded in France and news of several deaths reached us. Amandine was worried sick with her relatives. After several years of hearing only rumours and receiving no letters, she decided to travel there.”
Annabel had studied about the Revolution and the consequent ascent of Napoleon to power.
“Pitiful decision.” Lady Derby sighed. “She came to Paris in the height of the riots. The story is very unclear, but accounts indicate someone of her acquaintance murdered her.”
“Oh, goodness me!”
“Romulus was fourteen, his elder brother, sixteen and his younger one, twelve.” Aunt Charlotte completed.
“So young?” Annabel imagined Romulus losing his mother at so tender age and grieved for him.
“Too early to see a mother go, I agree.” The old woman replied. “I did what I could for them though I had my own children to see to at the time.”
Romulus and his brothers were lucky to have such a generous aunt. Most society ladies would not have given up their social appointments for their nephews.
After chatting a little more with Lady Derby, Annabel reached her room at last, and her tiredness got her to a fitful sleep.
* * *
Romulus stood in the inner bailey, waiting for the woman he would not stop wanting in any time of the day. Or night.
He deemed it better to accept his aunt’s suggestion and take her riding, lest the active hellion did it on her own and invested on another of her stunts. With all the dangers it entailed.
The stable lad held the mare she ‘borrowed’ last time with a side saddle. Romulus had his Arab black stallion by the reins. The black beauty blew air through its nose when the woman in question appeared on the steps. Her grey ridding habit hinted at her well-shaped legs, her slim waist and her round bosom. A complete, unwelcome temptation so early in the day, the unbidden desire came to him, together with his usual response to her.
“Good morning, my lady.” He bowed. “I trust you got a good night’s sleep.” Contrary to some other people.
“I did.” She placed her hat over her ebony ringlets coiled in a bun, hiding it from his avid eyes. She had the most beautiful hair a woman might ever have. “Fitful, I would say, my lord.” The reserved smile did not mislead him. She did not want to be under his surveillance, he knew.
Refusing the stable hand help, she mounted the horse with grace and agility. He followed her, and they headed northwest in a lazy trot.
“Your estate is very well kept, my lord.” She started, looking ahead.
The crisp morning held a wispy fog over the sky, promising sun for later. The fog cast a diffuse light over the green horizon, the scene of a fairy tale.
“My name is Romulus, Annabel.” In the presence of others, they must keep the formality, but, apart from the birds, there was no one around them.
“Yes…Romulus.” Why in hell he insisted she use his Christian name was a mystery because it made him want her to say it in the throes of passion. Uttered now with her melodious voice already bedevilled him.
He tried to find something to talk about to distract him from the temptation she represented.
