Moreham stood still for a moment before stepping closer to her but keeping a respectable distance between them. At that moment, she wanted him to toss all caution to the wind and take her in his arms again. To tell her all would be well. She knew he would never do such. He was Moreham after all.
“My dear, I know we overheard a damning conversation. I know you are hurting. All I can say is you must remember Philly’s admonition. Nothing is, as it seems. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember her words. I also heard the words spoken in the courtyard.”
Moreham reached for her and folded her against his chest. “Dearest, don’t give up hope. Trust me, our enemy is playing the same game as we. I will not condemn the duke based on a conversation between two men I do not know. Now, we have a satchel of food to eat. Shall we leave this place? Gives me the willies.”
She held firm. She had to know what he thought. “Moreham. You heard the man. They captured someone. Could it be Sturm?”
Again, Moreham said nothing as they made their way down the path to the horses. He stepped into the clearing and retrieved the reins to both animals before replying. “Nothing new there. We assumed he had been nabbed. Don’t give up on Sturm. He is a wily character and his captors will have to be vigilant to keep him in their grip.”
“You mean he is like Percy?”
“I guess I do mean that. Now, up you go.”
Moreham tossed her up in the saddle before doing the same. He nudged Paladin closer to her mount, leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t fret, dearest. I’m at your side. It is more important now than ever for us to work together. I am not convinced your uncle is involved with the sympathizers. Coming here today hasn’t changed anything.”
“I pray Thursday morning dawns and everyone I care about is still breathing and sitting down to breakfast together with this nightmare behind us.” She tapped her heels to set her horse in motion. This time, Moreham was in the lead.
Chapter 13
Moreham remained behind her until they passed into the lower fields once more. She nodded over to the north, rode to the next rise and waited for him to join her.
He eased his horse next to her mount. “I am feeling a little peckish. Shall we find a tree to sit under and enjoy Cook’s scones?"
“There is a grove of trees just over the next hill. It is a favorite picnic spot of mine. Should we be found there no one will think it out of the ordinary. I go there often when I’m home.”
The thought of sharing a meal filled her with anticipation. He might be her husband according to the church, but in her mind, they were virtually strangers.
She led the way and dismounted before Moreham could assist her. After being in such close quarters in the abbey, she needed still needed distance between them. Needed time to recover from the scent of his cologne, the tickle of his warm breath on her neck when he whispered a little too near her ear.
Moreham had other ideas. He walked toward her with the satchel of food.
“Here, hold this and I will spread out the rug. After a morning of riding, I am ready to lie about for a few minutes. Aren’t you?”
“Um…yes I suppose a rest would be nice. We must not tarry too long. We are supposed to be here overseeing the house party arrangements. Also, I don’t want your mama to feel abandoned by us.”
“Don’t fret about her. You are my wife, and she is over the moon with happiness. I am sure you can do no wrong in her eyes.” Moreham finished straightening the blanket before taking the basket from her and falling to his knees.
“Do you feel that way? You don’t know me. What do you think a wife’s purpose should be?”
“I have never had a wife before, so I am not sure what the purpose of one truly is. I have friends who are married and from my observations, their wives do not bow to their wishes. I will say I don’t think I would like for my wife, you, to bow to my wishes. Isn’t the give and take in a marriage what keeps a couple interested in each other? I would venture to say, those couples we both know who seek comfort elsewhere are merely bored. My parents relished each moment together.”
Moreham opened the satchel and pulled out two bottles of lemonade. To her delight, he delved back into the satchel and produced a loaf of bread with a wedge of cheese which he handed to her. Gillian set about to slice the bread and cheese. She laughed when Moreham revealed two serviettes with a flourish worthy of any footman.
She placed the bread and cheese on the serviettes and handed him the cloth with the larger portion. When he didn’t demur at her gesture, a warm glow filled her at having done something nice for him.
He reached into the satchel again and brought out a cloth bundle. He unwrapped the packet to reveal two of Cook’s scones. He took one and broke a bit off. With a now familiar glint of mischief in his eyes he grinned at her as he nudged her mouth open then slid the baked goodness between her lips.
