“You deserve it.” Her voice was tart, but her eyes sparkled. She enjoyed it, every damn bit of it. Not just his embarrassment, but their exchange of barbs, his dogged pursuit, his bravado and insinuating claims to her attention. She barely suppressed a smile, and it was all for him, not for the man standing nearby looking increasingly more irritated. She did not attempt to restrain her amusement.
“Bea.” He lowered his voice. “I have something totell you. About a mutual acquaintance who you believed to be attending this gathering.”
“Who?” Peterson asked, hovering above them like a bird of prey.
“No one,” Beatrice and Richard said at the same time.
“Ah, my lord… Ivan…” Beatrice chose each word with extra caution. “I do need to speak with Mr. Clark. I’ll see you inside?”
The other man looked between Beatrice and Richard, clearly hesitant.
Beatrice waved to the house rising above them. “Many windows, Ivan. Many eyes. And as Mr. Clark has already pointed out, I am over thirty years old.”
He gave a stiff nod and strode toward the house.
“Thank God he’s gone.” Richard stood, brushing himself off. Beatrice was right; there were entirely too many windows. He took her hand and dragged her under the trees, their branches stretching out shade over the green grass. He leaned against the trunk. “I’ve been looking for Daniel.”
“Ah.” She drew a line in the grass with the toe of her little boot. “That’s where you’ve been.”
“Missed me?”
“No.”
“I’ve missed you.”
She sighed. “I swear I saw him. But…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it. He could not be here. And yet… why would I have imagined him?” She avoided his gaze.
“We were just speaking of him that morning. You saw someone, but not clearly, and your mind supplied the details.”
“Yes, that’s possible.”
Silence seemed as heavy as the shadows beneath the branches.
Finally, Richard said, “Have you no reaction? To what I said about missing you.”
She waved his question away, crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s true,” he said. “Have you thought any more about my offer?”
She bit her bottom lip.
“Has Peterson offered?”
“No!” Her arms flew to her sides, hands fisted in an instant.
“Good.” As her body tensed, his relaxed. “Quite excellent. I do not care to share you.”
She opened her mouth, and he poised to accept her barbs, to throw them back. But she snapped her lips closed and slumped against the tree a quarter turn away from him. She closed her eyes and rubbed them with the heels of her hands.
He rolled onto his shoulder and peered down at her. “Are you well? Not suffering any consequences of our dip in the lake?”
She shook her head.
“Why are you scared of water? Your father owns boats. I’m sure you’ve been on boats. You visited your mother’s family in Spain one winter, didn’t you?”
“Yes. And I was miserable the entire voyage. There and back. If I visit them again, I might not return. Simply to avoid the travel.”
Then don’t go.“Why?”
