The Winter Wish Read Free Page B

anxiously thread her fingers
through the long hairs on the blanket as she thought desperately of what Lily
would say.
    “I…
I… That is, you… Well, I do not quite…”
    “I
take it you do not fox hunt either,” he said, raising one brow.
    Feeling
utterly miserable, Sarah shook her head.
    “You
are quite honest when you are not in the company of Lady Kincaid,” the Viscount
observed, and despite her nervousness Sarah found herself smiling shyly. “And
you look quite pretty when you do that,” he added, his gaze dropping to her
lips for the briefest of moments.
    Immediately
Sarah covered her mouth with her hand and looked away yet again, silently
cursing the blush that stole across her cheeks. Twenty three years of age and
she still acted like a new debutante, except she did not possess the
wherewithal to bat her eyelashes or make coy remarks. It was little wonder
Devlin had never so much as glanced at her before now, and she had little doubt
that once they reached Twinings he would ever have reason to speak to her again.
    “I
do not even know your name,” he said.
    “Does
it matter?” she asked softly.
    “What
was that?”  
    Taking
a deep breath, Sarah twisted in the seat to face him. If this was to be the
last time they were in each other’s company – which she was quite certain it
would be – then it was high time she grew some steel in her spine and stopped
behaving like a cowardly child. “I asked does it matter? My name,” she
clarified when he continued to look bemused. “You have already proven you do
not have a great affinity for remembering a woman’s name. Why then should I
bother to waste my time telling you mine? You shall forget it the moment I step
foot from the sleigh, or perhaps even before then.” Her shoulders lifted and
fell beneath her cloak in a small shrug. “Who is to say?”
    Oh,
she had done it now. Immediately Sarah felt contrite for being so
uncharacteristically rude, and she half expected Devlin to bring the sleigh to
a screeching halt and demand she walk to the tea shop. When he said nothing she
drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it back and forth until she could
not take the silence any longer. “I do apologize. I do not know what came
over—”
    “Stop,”
Devlin demanded, switching the reins over to his left hand so he could raise
his right, the palm facing towards her. His fingers were long and lean, the
tips of them calloused. Absently Sarah wondered what he did to have the hands
of a common laborer, for it was well known amidst the Ton that he had no
reason to work. His wealth was old and quite well established, more so now than
ever before since his father had passed and he inherited the late Viscount’s
title. It was little wonder that women were constantly throwing themselves at
him, although as far as Sarah was concerned he could have been a pauper.
    Money
mattered little to her; she considered herself quite fortunate to be born into
the upper class, but did not allow her breeding to define her as so many other
members of the peerage did. Were Devlin a Duke or a farmer she was confident
her feelings for him would remain unchanged… not that it mattered.  
    “Stop
apologizing?” she asked in confusion.
    “No.
Stop doing that… with your lip,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “It is quite…
distracting.” He scowled, as if he did not want to find it distracting,
and was annoyed that he did.  
    Sarah
blinked. “I did not realize I was doing anything—”
    “There!
There, you are doing it again.”
    Flustered
by the sudden anger in his voice, she covered her mouth with her hand. Speaking
between her fingers she said, “I think it would be best if you brought me to
Twinings now.”
    Devlin’s
jaw clenched. “I think that would be best as well,” he agreed tersely. Taking
the reins in both hands he slapped them against the gray’s rump. The horse
arched its neck and sprang into a trot with such force that Sarah flew back in
the seat