He looked as though he had, for his eyes were dark and clear, and his features did not appear strained. His dark hair was damp from washing and he’d shaved. The appealing scent of maleness and lather mingled with the aroma of the various foods set out before them.
His clothes, as always, were dark, elegantly cut, and lacking in frills.
Shelovedthe way he looked.
Loved the way his broad shoulders filled out his jacket. His legs were long and muscled, and his stomach trim. He walked with a confident swagger, like a general used to taking command. “You’re staring at me, Lettie.”
She blushed and turned away, pretending to inspect the delights set out for breakfast. “I… um, was… merely… um, inspecting you to be sure you were properly dressed for today’s… um, excursions.”
He moved to stand beside her, leaning his elbow on the sideboard as he looked down at her from his impressive height. “What excursions?”
He stood dangerously close.
Not that she was in any danger. He was the one who needed to be on alert to protect himself from her wanton impulses.
Would he notice if she kissed his neck?
Surely he wouldn’t mind if she nibbled along its thick, corded muscles instead of munching on the kippers that looked quite dead on the serving plate?
“Lettie? Stop fidgeting and tell me what you have in mind.”
She couldn’t help but fidget. He was standing so close, she felt the heat of his body and ached to nestle against his hard chest. He arched an eyebrow and frowned at her in that seductively stern way that never failed to melt her heart and render her utterly mindless. And what was she to tell him? She had no idea where they should go because Jeremiah hadn’t seen fit to help her out last night.
She closed her eyes and blurted the first thing that sprang to mind. “Battlefield.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
He didn’t smile back. “You realize it is nothing more than an empty field. The bodies have long since been removed and all signs of blood and battle cleared away by nature’s passage of time.”
“I do realize that, which is why… um, immediately after we inspect the battlefield, we’re going… um, to the town hall to look at the relics and read the historical accounts stored there commemorating the battle of Towton.” There! That made sense, didn’t it? “Pay particular attention to all mentions of wolves or roses.”
“Where’s Frances? Has she come downstairs yet?”
At that moment, a butler strode in. “Lady Frances always takes her breakfast in her bedchamber, but she bid me to see to your comforts. Please help yourselves to all that Cook has prepared. We usually serve coffee, but tea and cocoa are also available. You need only ask.”
“Coffee’s good for me,” Brynne said, reaching for a plate and handing it to Lettie.
He waited for her to start serving herself and followed after her, systematically piling the breakfast offerings onto his plate.He scooped a large spoonful of eggs, sausages, and everything else contained in each of the twelve salvers.
She supposed it took a good appetite to maintain his firmly toned and muscled body. He was a big man, after all.
She took two small kippers, two small sausages, and one poached egg. He glanced at her plate and laughed gently. “That would keep me alive for about five minutes.”
She stared at his plate. “And that,” she said with an equally affectionate laugh, “would put me into my grave in less than five minutes.”
They settled across from each other because that was Brynne’s way, to keep physically distant from her whenever possible. They said nothing to each other while the butler served their coffee.
But once she was alone with Brynne, she felt as though she ought to be talking. “What do you think of today’s plan?”
“It’s a fine one, Lettie.” He gazed at her with remarkable tenderness. “Don’t be too disappointed if nothing comes of it.”
“That’s the spirit,” she teased. “Imagine where we’d be today if Wellington had your attitude when planning the battle strategy for Waterloo.” She pursed her lips in mock despair. “Napoleon’s too strong,” she whined. “We’ll never defeat him. Let’s just go home and eat kippers until the little Corsican invades our shores.”
His smile reached into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Point taken, you impertinent little baggage. Off to the battlefield, it is. But we can’t stay long if you intend to fit in a search of the town hall records as well. Frances said we’re all to dine at Lord de Wolfe’s tonight.”
She gobbled down the one lone kipper remaining on her breakfast plate. “I’m ready.”
“So am I.” He finished the last of his coffee and set the cup back on its saucer then rose from the table.
Within the hour she and Brynne were at the site of one of the many battlefields where the Yorkist forces had engaged the Lancastrians and ultimately defeated them on that pivotal day. They said nothing to each other as they walked side by side along the snow covered field. Lettie was hoping to sense something about Brynne’s family history here, but she felt nothing other than a harsh wind that reached into her bones despite the layers of clothing she had on. Woolen gown and two layers of undergarments, woolen stockings, gloves, scarf, hat, cloak.
