He was not someone who liked to boast or even regale people with his tales too often, but the realization that she was truly interested had a peculiar effect on him, making him want to puff his chest and embellish some of his finest stories for her amusement.
He shrugged, offering her his hand. “Are you interested in the world, in general?”
She declined to take his hand. “I used to pretend I was a famed explorer, imagining all sorts of places from the safety of Woodholme Manor. I used to read everything I could get my hands on regarding far-off places, always in awe of the countries and cultures and people and history.” She counted the stars in the basket. “Of course, I have never been beyond England, but I have dreamed of… elsewhere.”
He did not know why it surprised him to hear that. He supposed, because of the care she had dedicated to her family, he had assumed she was a homebird, perfectly content with her small corner of England. But the more he learned about her, the more he realized that he had been wrong about almost everything, wholly understanding why everyone else had nothing but wonderful things to say about her.
“I was shipwrecked once,” he said, choosing his most dramatic story.
Phoebe gasped. “You were not!”
“I was, in the West Indies.” He smiled at the memory. “It was rather like your foray onto the laundry roof, in truth. No one knew where I was, I had burned in the sun, and everyone held their breath until I was found, quite safe but lobster red, on the beach of a tiny island. I was lost for four days, which does not sound like a lot, but when you do not know if you shall ever be rescued, four days is an eternity.”
Phoebe cast him a sideways glance as they pressed on through the gardens, moving into the next walled section. “What did you eat?”
“Coconuts.”
“What did you drink?”
“The water from coconuts.”
She sighed. “I wish I could taste a coconut. I hear they are quite delicious.”
“Not when they are all you have for sustenance,” he replied, chuckling. “Then, there was the time when I was set upon by monkeys in India. I was not told that I should not carry fruit with me—or rather I did not understand that I had been told that—and I had a few of these delicious oranges in my pocket. The monkeys attacked me—bit me and scratched me furiously—and, needless to say, took my oranges.”
Phoebe laughed, the sound stealing the breath from his lungs. “I was expecting wild tales of piracy and thievery, not sweet monkeys stealing oranges.”
“There was nothing sweet about them,” Daniel insisted. “The monkeys, I mean. I never got to find out how sweet the oranges were, after all. Indeed, I have not encountered much theft or crime during my travels. I have always felt quite safe. The worst I experienced was in France, in truth, simply for being British.”
Phoebe nodded. “Well, that is to be expected, I suppose. I do believe we have been at war with the French more often than we have had peace.”
“Do you read a great deal of history?”
Phoebe paused in thought. “I suppose so, though I rarely have the opportunity.”
“So, what is it you do for amusement when you have a moment to yourself?”
She smiled wryly. “I… spend time with my friends. They are my greatest source of joy. When I am with them, I can unburden myself, though I imagine that often makes me a bore.”
“It is good to have people close to you to whom you can speak freely,” he said, searching the next section of the gardens for red stars. “But, I must know, how do you have such knowledge of business matters? Is it something you are interested in?”
Phoebe shrugged, her beautiful eyes joining him in scouring the section of the gardens. “I was always somewhat adept at arithmetic, and… my father needed me to learn about business matters, so I did. Although, I cannot profess to know that much, only what I am required to know to keep everything running smoothly. I manage reasonably—a star!”
She took off, sprinting toward the far corner of the walled square, where a red star fluttered from the thin branch of a cherry blossom, not yet in bloom.
Daniel could not help but smile at her exuberance, admiring the girlish excitement that had taken over her entire demeanor. Indeed, he hoped that this somewhat silly treasure hunt was helping her unburden herself, allowing her to concentrate on something that did not include her family for a short while. It suited her, to be carefree. It suited her very well, indeed.
She turned, waving the star, and began to run back toward him. “I do believe we are going to win this treasure—”
Her eyes widened in panic, though it took a moment longer for Daniel to understand what was happening. All of a sudden, she was not running toward him anymore, but flailing her arms, falling forward. Her shoe was stuck in an uneven lump of gravel, the wedge of stones tripping her.
Daniel did not think. He bolted straight for her, clearing the distance in what seemed like an instant, sweeping her up into his arms, gathering her against him until she found her feet again. He stayed like that, clutching her in a tight embrace, panting hard, though not from the run but from the fear of her hurting herself. His heart thundered in his chest, so loud he was certain she must have been able to hear it, but he did not let go, feeling the unsteadiness in her as she struggled to find her feet once more.
She, too, was breathing quickly, her body shaking with fright.
“You have had a shock,” he told her softly, trying to distract himself from the sweet, citrusy scent of her hair. “Breathe deeply. You are safe.”
Her hands pressed against his shoulders, her head bowed so that they were almost cheek to cheek, her every exhale like a whisper against his neck. All the while, he was intensely aware of his arms holding her, and the placement of his hands—one cradling the back of her neck, one splayed against the middle of her back, keeping her steady.
