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He winced and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than before. Her fingers itched to reach up and correct it, brush it from his eyes at least. The better to see that beautiful blue…
“Sir Andrew and my sister are coming, too,” he admitted. “It wouldn’t be seemly for the two of us to ride out alone. Not that I think you would want to be alone with me, that is.” He stumbled over the words and stepped back, and she immediately felt as though she had lost something. A moment, perhaps, that could have been more. “Do you wish to come? We asked Emma, and she laughed at us. She’s never liked cold weather.”
She stopped his rambling as quick as she could. “Of course. I’d like to go riding with you.” She took in a quick breath to hastily add the rest. “And your sister. And Sir Andrew. Thank you.”
What had happened? They were talking in fits and starts like children. Simon had started it, throwing her mind into a muddle. Yes, she’d blame him for the sudden awkwardness of conversation.
Except when his smile appeared, slow and somewhat crooked, as though her answer pleased him, she quite forgot what she wanted to blame him for. A smile like that shouldn’t be permitted. Not when it had the ability to warm her as though she stood outside on a summer’s afternoon. “Excellent. Is an hour from now enough time?”
Enough time? For what? Oh, yes! He’d asked her to ride with him.
“More than plenty.”
The answer was easy enough, so long as Darrie hadn’t disappeared down the hill like she had the day before. The maid had gone to the village with some of the castle’s servants for a shopping trip. It was good of the household maids to invite Darrie, a stranger in their midst, so Isleen hadn’t minded the maid’s disappearance until the dinner hour.
“Good. Then I will meet you in the guard room in an hour.” He bowed and strode away, a lightness in his step that she found quite endearing. Squashing the impulse to giggle, Isleen went to the window. Perhaps she needed a taste of fresh air to rid herself of these strange impulses.
Isleen pushed open one of the windows, and the hinge moved without protest. The moment she put her face over the sill, a gust of cold air stole her breath away.
Quick as a wink, she pulled the window shut again and rubbed at her arms. The cold air shocked her fanciful notions of summer sunshine away. And looking up at the sky, she noted the gray clouds hanging heavily above.
Simon wanted to be out of doors, inthisweather?
How very odd. Doubtless, he knew the weather in his home country better than she. If Sir Andrew and Lady Josephine were to ride as well, they likely saw nothing wrong with the gray sky and brisk wind. The exercise would do them all a world of good, most likely.
She hurried on her way, planning to layer woolen stockings and as many other layers as she could get beneath her riding habit. Today, warmth was of far greater importance than the figure she’d cut on horseback.
* * *
“A rideon a morning as bitterly cold as this one is not the best of my plans,” Simon muttered to himself.
“Did you say something?” Andrew rode beside Simon, their pace slow as they followed the ladies down the hill.
“Cursing the weather is all.” He stared at Isleen’s form, noting the jaunty angle of her hat, meant to mimic a man’s in shape. Though hers had a rather whimsical holly berry twig and leaf tucked in its band. It seemed her disdain of winter foliage didn’t extend to that particular bush.
Andrew snorted, a sound more expected from the horses than a baronet. “This was your idea. People think thatI’mhorse-mad, but I don’t go dragging people out of doors when their noses are likely to freeze and fall off.”
“You could have said no when I invited you.” Pointing out the obvious to Andrew never helped an argument much. Simon ought to know better after all their years of friendship.
“You asked me in front of Josie and made a point of telling us Miss Frost was coming along. You knew that would perk Josie’s interest, and I could hardly say no to something your lovely sister asks of me.”
“You used to say no to her all the time.” Simon tried to sound severe but given how happy his sister and best friend were with their match, he was bickering for the mere sake of bickering.
“That was before I fell in love with her.”
Simon cast his most disapproving glare at his best friend. “Love seems a poor excuse for breaking habit. You two once seemed barely tolerant of each other, and now you’re in love. I cannot understand it.”
“Wait until your turn,” Andrew warned with a knowing grin, completely unrepentant. “You will turn your life upside down for the woman who holds your heart. I’d be willing to wager on it.”
“No new wagers, if you please. I’m still caught up in the middle of your last game.”
Andrew sounded far too smug when he said, “Judging by how intently you stare at Miss Frost at this very moment, it is not an entirely unpleasant way to pass the time.”
Simon didn’t bother to deny it. That would certainly make his friend suspicious. Instead, he noted, “The holly is an interesting touch to her hat. Think we ought to add a sprig to ours, to appear more festive for the season?”
“Don’t be daft. What man would adorn his hat with anything like that? My grandfather put feathers in those blasted tri-corn things you see in portraits—”
“I have a tenant farmer who still wears those.”
