Authors: The Guardian
“Of course not,” I replied.
“Your eyes are too big and your cheeks are too thin,” came the inexorable response. “What’s the matter, Annabelle? Are you with child? “
“Damn it, Stephen!” I yelled. I struggled to sit up. “You could at least have given me the chance to tell you!”
“But you weren’t telling me,” he said with a grin.
“I’ve only just suspected it myself.”
I had managed to get myself upright, and now I stuffed a loose pillow behind my back. “You took all the fun out of it,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to.” He didn’t look at all
repentant. “I was just so excited at the thought that I couldn’t keep my mouth closed.”
I turned my hands so that our palms faced and our fingers entwined.
“Are
you excited, Stephen?”
The grin came back. “I certainly am.”
I said softly, “I have just been thinking that I cheated you out of your firstborn, but that this baby will truly be yours.”
He reached one of his arms around my shoulders to pull me against his side. I relaxed against him, feeling myself draw energy and strength from his slim, hard body.
He said thoughtfully, “Do you know, I have this niggling little feeling, Annabelle, that young Lord Weston is not going to be overly pleased to find that he has a competitor.”
“It will be good for him,” I said. “Giles needs to learn that the world does not revolve around him.” I paused. “At least not all the time.”
We laughed.
A little silence fell as we sat peacefully, our
bodies pressed together, each of us thinking our own thoughts.
“What are you going to do about those new
horses you bought? “ Stephen asked suddenly.
“There is no reason why I cannot hunt until we leave for London, Stephen,” I said. “I hunted while I was carrying Giles.”
I felt his body stiffen. I remained very still and said nothing.
He said tensely, “What if you have a fall?”
“I’ll be careful, Stephen. I won’t fall.”
The silence that fell between us this tune was strained, not peaceful.
“Jesus, Annabelle,” Stephen said in a low, taut voice. “I’m afraid.”
I answered reasonably, “I’m not stupid, Stephen. If I don’t feel well, I won’t hunt. If I need to jump a fence I’m not certain my horse can get over, I won’t attempt it. I want this baby very much, and I am not going to do anything to endanger it.”
“I know that,” he said. The arm that encircled me was absolutely rigid. “But it isn’t just the baby who will be endangered if you have a fall.”
I thought of all the times that I had held my tongue when Stephen planned to do something that I feared might bring him into danger. I didn’t say anything.
The silence stretched on.
Then, gradually, I felt the tension begin to drain out of his body. He drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly, as if he were commanding himself to relax. He said, “You must do what you feel you must do, Annabelle. I know how much pride you take in your hunters. I won’t ask you to stay on the ground.”
My own shoulders relaxed as the stress that I hadn’t even realized I was feeling melted away. “Thank you, Stephen,” I said softly.
He looked down at me and said ruefully, “I have to admit to you, Annabelle, that I find I don’t much like it when the shoe is on the other foot.”
So I knew that his thoughts had run parallel to mine.
“Now you can appreciate how heroic I have been for all
these years,” I said lightly.
He gave me an unshadowed smile. “I have always known you were heroic.”
The morning room door opened and Hodges appeared. Stephen didn’t remove his arm from my shoulders; he just
turned his head and asked pleasantly, “What is it, Hodges?”
“It is time to present the bouquet of flowers to Miss
Annabelle, Mr. Stephen,” Hodges said. “And the tenants have
another presentation they wish to make to you.”
Stephen sighed, removed his arm from my shoulder, got to his feet, and turned to assist me. “Tell them we will be there in a moment, Hodges,” he said.
Arm in arm the two of us walked together to meet our
guests.
For Patty, Eileen and Peggy: we band of sisters
Copyright © 1997 by Joan Wolf
Originally published by Warner [ISBN 0446602760]
Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.