As You Wish Read Free

either, Miss Cantrell.  I assure you I’m not play-acting.”
    Strange that he stuck with his character in this situation.  And he took the role so seriously, not like the sing-songing actors at Renaissance fairs and staged medieval banquets.  She grinned.  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I paid attention during the tour.  I know about his yachting accident.”
    He stared blankly, as though she’d made up the story.
    All at once, she realized the guide might have done just that.  She shook her head.  “Wait a second.  Are you actually the viscount?  Is that yacht story just a fabrication for tourists?  Please don’t tell me the one about the spring is made up, too.”
    Still, he looked at her as if she spoke Greek.  “Miss  Cantrell, I am, quite frankly, having difficulty deciphering your jabbering.  I am indeed David Traymore but, until now, no one other than myself has ever dreamed of my gaining the title ‘viscount.’  My father, in fact, took some time to approve my mother’s decision to bestow his surname upon me.”
    She frowned.  “Maybe I’m confused about the title.  But you are heir to the Marquess of Solebury?”
    He laughed, if such a bitter snort could be called a laugh.  “You are delightfully misinformed, Miss Cantrell.  That honor belongs to my half brother.  Lord William is the marquess’s legitimate son, you see.”
    She studied his striking features, currently twisted into a grimace.  So he’d been born illegitimately and resented the fact.  But why had the tour guide called him “the lost heir” and distinctly told them the marquess had no other offspring?  Well, she didn’t have the time to get to the bottom of the story.  If she didn’t hurry back to the bus, she’d hold up the whole group, and an angry Jeanine would not be a pleasant roommate.
    “You’re right about one thing,” she said, carefully hoisting herself to her feet.  “I’m definitely misinformed.”
    He stepped forward to grab her elbow--a good thing, since another wave of dizziness hit her.  Still off-balance, she threw a resentful look at the mere puddle that somehow had almost swallowed her.  But a glimpse of the springhouse made her gasp.  In place of the cracked mortar and crumbling stones she’d seen just a few minutes before, four unbroken walls stood strong and level.  She whipped her focus around toward the big oak--except the big oak had disappeared, and a fragile sapling had sprouted in its place.  Her dizziness intensified, and she staggered backward away from the pool, thinking, for the first time in her life, she might faint.
    David Traymore grabbed her around the shoulders, his strong arm the only thing that kept her from stumbling to the ground.  She grasped onto his waist, terrified that he might vanish the way the tree had.  But no amount of anxiety could refute the solid muscles of his abdomen, hot with the energy of life even through the linen of his shirt.  Relieved, she let her shoulder fall against his chest.
    “Now you see that you did indeed strike your head.”  He bent and scooped her up like a child, carrying her back toward the path.  “I will take you to the manor house.  My father’s wife will care for you until your injuries mend.”
    She felt as confused as a child, too, and feared she might start crying like one.  Forcing herself not to give in to hysterics, she put her free hand against the cool skin of her face.  “I just want to get back to the bus.”
    “We shall send a footman out to your people and tell them to bring the coach around to the stables.  Don’t concern yourself  about their being well received.  You will find the marchioness a very kind hostess.  How she ever fell into my father’s clutches I cannot say.”
    “I don’t understand this,” she managed to say.  “The guide told us there was no marchioness.  I must be hallucinating.  Yes, that’s it.  I didn’t get enough oxygen while I was underwater, and my