Chapter One
Wales, September 1815
“And you are?”
Reginald Payne, Reggie to his friends, opened his mouth, failed to recall any words in the English language, and promptly closed it again. He glanced to the opened oak door and took note of its dark frame against the blinding white daub and wattle cottage, with its thick roof, then back to the stunning woman suddenly highlighting it all.
He would look at the other buildings and farmland surrounding this farm estate for more distraction, but they were unfortunately behind him.
So, all he had was her, the resident of this cottage…and her question.
It wasn’t that he was utterly incapable of knowing the answer she asked. He was quite aware of his name, that he was raised on a similar farm in England with two older brothers and a younger sister.
He was aware that he was a man well on twenty-six years of age and had lived on that farm until he was conscripted to fight in the harshest of line regiments in the now-defeated Napoleonic campaign.
Because of the letter he brought, he knew why he came to this residence, and whom to inquire about: a Miss Siân Williams.
But he could say none of these things now as that very woman eventually made her way to the door and stood in front of him.
Because, quite simply, he wasn’t prepared forher.
So he stood, his hat somehow off his head and in his hands to spin indelicately around, like he was some green youth sighting his first beautiful girl.
“Miss Siân Williams?” He cleared his throat.
“Siân,” she said, correcting his pronunciation. “Yes, that is indeed me.”
She had answered him with the most enchanting wrinkle between her finely arched brows. In fact, everything about her was absolutely mesmerizing. He felt he was under some enchantment as he stared in rapture at the woman who was no taller than the middle of his chest.
Her dark blonde hair was a riot of curls that no number of pins could secure, and her eyes a hazel gold he’d only seen in certain gemstones.
She was small—but then, everyone was small compared to him—yet she wasn’t frail, and her bones were thick, her hips wide.
And he was up to his neck in trouble.
Because as he stared at her, his mouth agape, he was afraid he could not do what he’d come here to do.
She was far too lovely. And it wasn’t her beauty specifically. It was that she wasn’t at all like she was described to him by his friend, and Miss Williams’ betrothed, Charles Evans, who’d saved him from a bayonet, and thus saved his very life.
Charles had had nothing but dismissing words for this maiden. How her hair had no redeeming color and her eyes were too dark. He had waxed on in greater detail about her short legs, thick arms, and even thicker hips. Almost daily, he conversed how desperately he wanted out of the arranged marriage made between their families since before he could walk.
Just when Charles was obligated to fulfil his duties to his family and estate, the war started. And so, he took advantage of it and left this tiny village in Wales with the unwanted arranged marriage, and a woman whom he described as a troll.
And whom Reggie thought the most riveting woman he’d ever seen in his life.
“Again, might I ask, who are you?” she said, her eyes still holding that faint bemusement—no fear at all at the odd man who stood at her door.
She was brave as well as beautiful. How unfair was that?
He suddenly felt all the sharp points of Charles’ anemic correspondence, which he carried in his coat pocket. Correspondence he’d carried for days and miles. He hadn’t read it, but knew it contained Charles’ vehement denial of any arranged marriage.
Charles had even asked if Reggie approved of writing such a correspondence to call off the marriage. Since the woman sounded vile, he had agreed it was a sensible thing to do.
In fact, since Charles was currently recovering from a broken leg, which he’d incurred because of the bayonet meant for Reggie, Reggie had vowed to deliver it himself.
When he had made the vow, he thought it to be an easy task. After all, delivering a piece of parchment to a troll and returning some of the favor he owed to his friend should have been simple.
“Miss Williams,” he choked out. Words tripped in his head, but not from his tongue.
