Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

In a perfect dream, she would have been swept off her feet and carried back to the Manor. But this wasn’t a dream, she reminded herself with every pain-hobbled step. This was live, waking, in-the-flesh reality, and what was more—it was herchance .

She had so much to tell him. Where to begin? She dreamt up and discarded a series of bold declarations.

Toby, I’ve loved you since I was a girl. Too much in the past, she told herself. Talk about the present.

Toby, you can’t marry Sophia Hathaway. Probably best not to mention the enemy. Focus on the future.

Toby, make me your wife and you’ll never be sorry. I’ll warm your bed, and I’ll give you beautiful babies, and we will never—well, hardly ever—disagree. Lucy chewed her lip. Perhaps a bit too forward?

Figuring outwhat to say was only half the problem. The other half being, carving out a moment to say it. Toby was nattering on incessantly as they made their slow progress toward the house.

“It’s a bit of luck we decided to cut our hunting short this morning,” he was saying. “We were over toward the eastern edge of the woods, and the sky kept growing darker. A proper storm brewing, Henry thinks. This wind has a boar’s teeth, I’ll say. Odd time of year for it. Not unheard of, mind you. Was it three years ago we had that snow just before fox season began? Maybe just two.”

Lucy opened her mouth to tell him it had been four, but she never had the chance.

“Yes, it’s fortunate we headed back when we did. Exceedingly so. Imagine,” he said, “you might have been here in the woods with a wayward aunt and a twisted ankle and rain about to fall …”

Now the topic of weather was getting somewhere.Yes , she thought, nodding enthusiastically.Imagine the peril . She would have been perfectly fine, of course, but a few protective masculine instincts could never go astray.

“Imagine,” he said, “poor Miss Hathaway wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Poor Miss Hathaway!Lucy groaned.

Toby’s steps and speech drew to a halt. “I’m so sorry. Am I walking too fast?”

“No … Well, yes. It’s just—” She looked up at him. He gazed down at her. His eyes were clear, patient brown with just a hint of gold—and nothing at all of glass. She licked and pursed her lips, but his gaze never slipped from hers.

“Do you find me pretty?”

The words were out before she could stop them. Out and echoing through the woods, ricocheting off the trees, ringing through the silent space between them. She couldn’t take them back. Wouldn’t wish to, if she could. Toby’s brow wrinkled in surprise. Tension knotted in Lucy’s stomach.

“Why … yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. “You’re a very pretty girl, Lucy.”

There. He’d said it. She was pretty. Sir Toby Aldridge found her pretty. Lucy was perfectly satisfied. She’d never need to hear it again.

“Really?” Once more wouldn’t hurt.

“Really and truly.” The words flipped off his tongue so lightly, she despaired that he didn’t really mean them. But then he cupped her chin in his hand, and his gaze wandered slowly over her face. Lucy held her breath.

“You’ve the most lovely eyes,” he said quietly. “And that hair—” He smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear. “A man could get lost in that tangle and never find his way out.”

Their lips were just inches apart. So close. If she only craned her neck a bit … and then he would bend his head a fraction …

Oh, but would he? She couldn’t tell. He’d been chattering on like a bedlamite, but he hadn’t spoken one syllable of geometry.

“Next Season,” he said, “you’ll go to London, and you’ll have a pack of suitors nipping at your heels. Henry will have to fend them off with a stick.”

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Where will you be next Season?”

“Right there with you.” He brushed a finger down her cheek and smiled. “I’ll bring my own stick.”

Then he turned his gaze to the path and began walking again. Though her ankle felt nearly well, Lucy clung to him more tightly than ever.

They walked along in silence. The sky was growing dark. A bitter wind bit through the fabric of Lucy’s spencer, but a smile warmed her face. Next Season, Sir Toby Aldridge would beat her admirers away with a stick. The very thought was ridiculous and barbaric and the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. Of course, the question remained … would he be bludgeoning half theton for the sake of brotherly affection or out of jealous love?

Right now, it didn’t matter. Next Season could go hang. Toby had called her pretty, and his arm was tight about her waist. Right now, this felt like all she had ever wanted.

Oh, Toby, the truest words came to her now,you’re the only person in the world who makes me feel perfect just as I am. Who never scolds or reproaches or wants me to change. And if you marry Sophia Hathaway, I fear I’ll go my whole life without ever feeling this way again . She gripped his coat tightly.Toby, if I lose you, I’m afraid I’ll lose me, too .

But these words, her pride would never let her speak.