said with aching gentleness, “I’m a big oaf. It’ll take more than an angry horse to kill me.”
Laurel’s heart leapt into her throat. He had the handsomest smile and dark green eyes that could lead a girl to mischief with very little provocation. Of course, she wouldn’t be that girl. She was loyal to Devlin Kirwood. “Our eldest sister, Rose, married last year,” she began to prattle, for his smile was doing odd things to her. In a nice but confusing way. “Her husband is Lord Julian Emory, the current Viscount Chatham.”
Lord Graelem nodded. “I know him. Good man.”
She liked the way the sun warmed the chestnut color of his hair.
“Done, my lord,” her uncle said, regaining their attention. “Don’t try to get up on your own just yet. We’ll summon help.”
Once Dillie was sent off to call for Eloise’s footmen, it took only a moment for Lord Moray to grow impatient and attempt once again to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Laurel immediately positioned her body against his back to catch him if he started to fall, for he’d been hurt enough for one day. Indeed, hurt enough for a lifetime, as far as she was concerned.
Lily rolled her eyes and began to jabber about linear planes and angles and some nonsense about gravitational thrust, which Laurel would have dismissed had she not found herself suddenly pinned between the trunk of the oak tree and Lord Moray, whose back was unwittingly pressed against her chest.
Her uncle groaned in exasperation. “Laurel, what are you trying to accomplish? You can’t lift him up on your own.”
“But I only meant to—” Realizing she was only making matters worse, she tried to slip out from under him. Her breasts accidentally rubbed against his shoulder.
“Lass! You’d better… blessed Scottish saints… er, just don’t move. I’ll roll out of your way.”
She nibbled her lip and tried to hold back the tears threatening to well in her eyes, for he sounded so pained and his gaze was now turbulent and fiery. The blaze in his eyes could only signify anger. “I only meant to help.”
“I think you’ve helped me quite enough for one day.” He fell back as she moved away, knocking his head against the trunk of the oak tree with a soft thuck . “Quite enough.”
She placed a hand on his arm to lend aid, but received another fiery glance for her attempt. “Lass, it isn’t necessary. My grandmother’s footmen will assist me to my chamber.”
She nodded, feeling worse for causing him yet more discomfort. “Please, let me do something to make it up to you.”
“No—”
“But I don’t mind at all.” Her tears had held off, but no longer. She let out a sniffle. “Just tell me what I can do for you—”
“Lass, it isn’t necessary.” His gaze was a dangerous smolder that seemed to intensify each time she tried to touch him.
The tears began to stream down her cheeks. “ Anything. You have only to ask and I’ll do it. You have my promise.”
“I don’t want it.”
She hated feeling guilty. Why wouldn’t he simply accept her apology? “You have it anyway. My sacred promise. What can I do to atone for the damage I’ve caused?”
He eyed her for a disconcertingly long moment. “Very well,” he said with quiet authority. “Marry me.”
Chapter 2
“WHAT?” LAUREL WAS CERTAIN she’d misunderstood, for no man in his right mind would ask such a thing of the very girl who’d almost cut short his existence. She shook her head and laughed lightly. “Ah, I suppose I deserved that jest. Well done, sir. Marry me? For a moment, you had me believing you were serious.”
His gaze never left her face. Oh, dear. He wasn’t smiling. “We’ll be wed by Midsummer’s Day.”
“What?” she repeated, a numbing cold slowly spreading throughout her body despite the warmth of the day. She clasped her trembling hands and rested them on her lap in a useless attempt to keep them from shaking. At the same time, she let out a nervous titter
Laurel’s heart leapt into her throat. He had the handsomest smile and dark green eyes that could lead a girl to mischief with very little provocation. Of course, she wouldn’t be that girl. She was loyal to Devlin Kirwood. “Our eldest sister, Rose, married last year,” she began to prattle, for his smile was doing odd things to her. In a nice but confusing way. “Her husband is Lord Julian Emory, the current Viscount Chatham.”
Lord Graelem nodded. “I know him. Good man.”
She liked the way the sun warmed the chestnut color of his hair.
“Done, my lord,” her uncle said, regaining their attention. “Don’t try to get up on your own just yet. We’ll summon help.”
Once Dillie was sent off to call for Eloise’s footmen, it took only a moment for Lord Moray to grow impatient and attempt once again to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Laurel immediately positioned her body against his back to catch him if he started to fall, for he’d been hurt enough for one day. Indeed, hurt enough for a lifetime, as far as she was concerned.
Lily rolled her eyes and began to jabber about linear planes and angles and some nonsense about gravitational thrust, which Laurel would have dismissed had she not found herself suddenly pinned between the trunk of the oak tree and Lord Moray, whose back was unwittingly pressed against her chest.
Her uncle groaned in exasperation. “Laurel, what are you trying to accomplish? You can’t lift him up on your own.”
“But I only meant to—” Realizing she was only making matters worse, she tried to slip out from under him. Her breasts accidentally rubbed against his shoulder.
“Lass! You’d better… blessed Scottish saints… er, just don’t move. I’ll roll out of your way.”
She nibbled her lip and tried to hold back the tears threatening to well in her eyes, for he sounded so pained and his gaze was now turbulent and fiery. The blaze in his eyes could only signify anger. “I only meant to help.”
“I think you’ve helped me quite enough for one day.” He fell back as she moved away, knocking his head against the trunk of the oak tree with a soft thuck . “Quite enough.”
She placed a hand on his arm to lend aid, but received another fiery glance for her attempt. “Lass, it isn’t necessary. My grandmother’s footmen will assist me to my chamber.”
She nodded, feeling worse for causing him yet more discomfort. “Please, let me do something to make it up to you.”
“No—”
“But I don’t mind at all.” Her tears had held off, but no longer. She let out a sniffle. “Just tell me what I can do for you—”
“Lass, it isn’t necessary.” His gaze was a dangerous smolder that seemed to intensify each time she tried to touch him.
The tears began to stream down her cheeks. “ Anything. You have only to ask and I’ll do it. You have my promise.”
“I don’t want it.”
She hated feeling guilty. Why wouldn’t he simply accept her apology? “You have it anyway. My sacred promise. What can I do to atone for the damage I’ve caused?”
He eyed her for a disconcertingly long moment. “Very well,” he said with quiet authority. “Marry me.”
Chapter 2
“WHAT?” LAUREL WAS CERTAIN she’d misunderstood, for no man in his right mind would ask such a thing of the very girl who’d almost cut short his existence. She shook her head and laughed lightly. “Ah, I suppose I deserved that jest. Well done, sir. Marry me? For a moment, you had me believing you were serious.”
His gaze never left her face. Oh, dear. He wasn’t smiling. “We’ll be wed by Midsummer’s Day.”
“What?” she repeated, a numbing cold slowly spreading throughout her body despite the warmth of the day. She clasped her trembling hands and rested them on her lap in a useless attempt to keep them from shaking. At the same time, she let out a nervous titter
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