Engaging the Earl by Diana Quincy Read Free Book Online

Trotting down a slight slope, he inhaled the outdoor air and fragrant flowers, grateful they’d come upon so few people on their walk. Although he could manage crowds most of the time, they still made him uneasy.
    A flutter of birds exploded in front of him, bursting out of a low tree so suddenly that his heart jumped and his shoulders tightened. His chest seized and a kernel of panic sprouted deep within him. Struggling to keep it at bay, he attempted to regulate his breaths, deep inhales that came far too quickly.
    Lightheaded, he staggered toward the nearest tree and bent over, bracing his palms on his knees. He struggled to slow the fast, sharp pounding in his chest as perspiration blurred his vision. He blinked repeatedly, determined to drive away the blackness hovering at the edges of his mind. Standing upright again, he leaned against the tree and slid to a sitting position, the solid trunk protecting his back. Looking outward, the pond was a blue-brown blur while the green of the trees were indistinguishable dots of color.
    Memories that were best left forgotten pulled at his mind. Pain ripped through his shoulder and a volley of gunshots ricocheted in his head. Drowning in despair and terror, he tried to shove them away, to rein his thoughts back into control. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. You are no longer on the battlefield. The acrid scent of blood and decaying bodies filled his nostrils, making him wretch. Grief tunneled through him, plunging him into darkness and he gave into it, knowing once again that his battle for sanity was lost.
    Something furry, wet, and foul-smelling assaulted him, followed by an enthusiastic yelp. Rand blinked at the brown blob, trying to remember where he was. He became aware of the grass, soft and moist beneath him, and realized he was curled up on the ground. As he struggled into a seated position against the tree, the brown blob began to take the shape of a very mangy-looking—and obviously very poorly trained—canine. The creature lapped at his face with such enthusiasm, it likely hadn’t eaten in a while. And from the way it smelled, it hadn’t bathed in at least twice as long.
    He tilted his face upward to avoid all of that slobbering, but the creature licked his chin just as heartily. He took several deep breaths to try to calm his jittery body as the grim realization washed over him. Devil take it. He’d had another episode, and there was no telling how long this one had lasted. Thank God no one had been around to witness it other than this mangy whelp.
    The odd-looking creature had the square jaw and drooped jowls of a pointer, but was as fluffy as a Pomeranian. Rand ran a hand down its matted fur, his heart rate and inhalations easing to a more settled pattern as he worked his hands through the animal’s damp coat, massaging its body. The creature’s presence proved surprisingly calming. They sat under the tree together for several minutes until Rand began to feel in control of himself once again.
    “And who might you be?” he asked the dog after a while, running both hands up and down the animal’s neck. The wiggly canine emitted a cheerful little bark, nudging into Rand’s hands. “You like that, do you?” He smiled, treating the dog to a more vigorous, playful petting.
    “Vera, you naughty creature.” A strident female voice called out from across the way. “Come away from there. Assaulting strangers in the park, whatever will I do with you?”
    No. It couldn’t be . But it was. There was no mistaking that melodious voice with an underlying note of strength. As she came up on him at a determined stride, Rand looked up into breathtakingly familiar blue eyes.
    …
    Edward Stanhope was just about the last person Kat expected to encounter beside Round Pond, sitting under a tree petting her animal.
    Far from his usual stiff-spined stance, he appeared relaxed—the lines of his shoulders and lean body falling into an easy posture—as he vigorously