A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(20)
Author: Tessa Dare

The mechanics of the ancient weapon were apparently more sensitive and twitchy than a virgin’s inner thigh. A great many test runs were needed before it would be ready.

Sir Lewis’s sonorous baritone carried over the castle ruins. “Ready, men! Three . . . two . . .”

A great whomping and whooshing noise coincided with the count of one, as the men released the trebuchet’s counterweight. The sling made its groaning orbit upward, then lurched to a halt and sent its missile soaring in the direction of the sea.

In the direction of the sea. Not all the way there.

From the loud squelch that followed, the thing couldn’t have flown more than fifty feet before smashing to pulp on the rocks.

“Corporal Thorne?”

“Miss Taylor.” She’d appeared out of nowhere while he was distracted, Badger nosing at her heels.

“I’ve a matter to discuss with you. Can we have a private word?”

He led her through the remains of a crumbled archway and around a low sandstone wall. It was a place apart, but not enclosed. The armory was no place for her, and he damned well couldn’t take her into his quarters alone.

If he got her anywhere near a bed . . . this temporary engagement could all too easily become permanent.

God, just look at her this morning. The sunlight gave her hair hints of cinnamon and threw gold sparks in her eyes. The exertion of a steep climb up the bluffs showed her slight figure to its best advantage. And the heart-shaped mark at her temple . . . it was the worst and best of everything. It made him painfully aware she wasn’t some unearthly apparition, but a flesh-and-blood woman who’d warm in his embrace.

None of this was for him, he reminded himself. Not the careful curl of her hair, nor the spotless new gloves that gave her hands the look of bleached starfish. She wore a pale blue frock that seemed more froth than muslin. A border of delicate ivory lace trimmed the low, squared neckline. He shouldn’t be noticing that lace. Much less staring at it.

He wrenched his gaze up to her face. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Except that I’m not accustomed to having a puppy for a roommate.”

“Ready to give him back, then?”

“Not a chance. I adore him.” She bent to give the dog a brisk rub. “But how do I keep him from chewing things?”

“You don’t. It’s what he’s born to do—chase down small animals and rip them apart.”

“My. What a little savage.”

He pulled a handful of rabbit hide twists from his pocket. He tossed one to the dog, then offered the rest to her. “Give him these, one at a time. They should last a few days, at least.”

“Can I buy more at the shop when these are gone?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t purchase them.”

He expected her to give the knotted bits of scraped hide a faintly disgusted look, now that she knew just where they’d originated. Instead, she regarded him with the same soft, liquid eyes she used on the pup.

“You had all those prepared? She must have been right. You do value this dog.”

“What? Who must be right?”

She pocketed the extra rabbit hide scraps. “Sally Bright told me—”

“Sally Bright says a lot of things.”

“—that you had a puppy on order from a breeder. Bred from some kind of superior hunting stock. She said the pups come very dear. Corporal Thorne, if Badger means something to you, I’ll give him back. I just need to know he’ll be cared for.”

Not this again. “The dog is mine. That’s all I should need to say.”

“What’s so horrible about admitting a fondness for the creature? I’m a music tutor, as you well know, and music is just another language. Unfamiliar phrases come easier with practice. Say it with me now, slowly: ‘I care about the dog.’ ”

He didn’t say a thing.

“That’s a very intimidating scowl,” she teased. “Do you practice that look in the mirror? I’ll bet you do. I’ll bet you glare into the looking glass until it shatters.”

“Then be a clever girl and turn away.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. I came up here to talk privately because we need to make our stories straight. The whole village has heard of our betrothal already. Everyone’s asking me how we came to be engaged, and I don’t know what to tell them. Aren’t the men asking you the same? What have you said?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Of course. How could I forget? No one expects you to talk. You’re Corporal Taciturn. But it’s different with la—”

Shouts from the other side of the wall interrupted. “Ready, men! Three, two . . .”

Thunk. Creak. Whoosh.

Then, a few seconds later, splat.

“More sand in the counterweight,” Sir Lewis shouted to the men. “We almost have it.”

“It’s different with ladies,” Miss Taylor said, continuing where she’d left off. “You don’t understand. When a girl gets engaged, they want to know everything. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word. I can’t abide lying to them, so I’d prefer we hold to the truth. We became engaged yesterday. Our first kiss was on the way home from Hastings. We’ve—”

He held up a hand, halting her mid-sentence. “Wait. You’re telling people about the kiss?”

She blushed. “I haven’t really, not yet. But I think I must. They’re skeptical as it is. No one believes we’ve been courting. Because we haven’t been.” Her gaze dropped to the turf. “Oh, this is miserable. I should have never agreed to the idea.”

“If it’s causing you that much anguish, release me from the engagement.”

Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that so fast. I would look fickle, even mercenary. What kind of woman would engage herself to a man one evening, then throw him over the very next day just because her circumstances changed?”

“A great many women would do that.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.”

Thorne knew very well she wasn’t.

“The Gramercys might be my relations,” she went on. “I want them to like me—and to know me—for who I truly am. I’m not the kind of woman to marry for convenience. Unless we lie a little bit, I’ll feel dishonest.”

Thorne frowned. Was she asking him to behave like an interested suitor? He’d made concealing his attraction to her such a habit, he wasn’t sure he knew how to do the reverse.