The Pursuit of Pleasure by Elizabeth Essex Read Free Book Online Page B

for all her haste, Jamie was there, behind her, his hands curving around her upper arms to arrest her flight. His long fingers slid up to rest on her shoulders, solid and reassuring.
    “Lizzie.” His breath blew warm and uneasy against the nape of her neck. “Are you all right?”
    She tried to wriggle out from under his hands by taking the first stair, but he was so much taller, his heat still surrounded her. It was all she could do to keep from collapsing back into his sheltering warmth.
    She didn’t dare. She must remember he would soon be leaving himself.
    “Come, Lizzie. You needn’t fly off in such a rush.” Jamie’s low voice probed like a velvet blade.
    “Please,” she managed. “Please don’t fuss.” She kept her face averted as she dashed an inconvenient speck of dust from her eye with the back of her hand. She couldn’t bear it if he made a fuss. She’d fall to a hundred pieces. “I’m going … to change into my habit.” To leave as soon as possible—to leave it all behind. All the endless arguments, all the resentment.
    “You’re going riding? Now? Lizzie.” The soft pity in his voice cut her to the bone.
    “No.” She took a deep breath and turned to face him, mustering every ounce of casual indifference she possessed. “We are going riding. You’re going to show me my house.”
    “Your house, Mrs. Marlowe?”
    Lizzie squelched the lovely pang at his first use of her new name. He’d made it sound like an endearment. “My house. ‘Not too big, not too small, with eight principal bedrooms and a lovely view down to the sea.’ You remember. You said I must see it, so you must show it to me before you leave. Please. I have to … go.” She gave him one of her enticing smiles, the one where she let her enthusiasm for the scheme show, to cover the cost of such a mortifying admission.
    “Even in this weather? How can I refuse you, Lizzie?” His wide gray eyes were clear, but they held the promise of mirth. His words and his encouraging smile sent a warm feeling stroking up her spine. She shifted her shoulders to shake off the sensation. It wouldn’t do to become too attached to him.
    “I’ll ask Willy to saddle up the chestnut hunter for you. Oh, Lord, you do still ride, don’t you? Or have you turned into an arthritic old naval man?” It was so much easier when she was nettling him.
    He smiled back, lazy and knowing. “Arthritic? I shall endeavor to show you otherwise,” he murmured. “And I definitely still ride.”
    They were saddled and mounted with the half hour, Jamie on a tall hunter and Lizzie on Serendipity, her leggy, bay Thoroughbred filly. They had a lovely ride in the clearing afternoon, down along the river towards the castle, and then up Weeke Hill and over the headland toward the sea. The rain held off, and the clean wind blew the last remains of the disastrous breakfast from her mood. It was easy to be happy with Jamie. He was kind enough to understand she did not want to talk about her father. Instead he did all he could to be charming and amusing, making her laugh with his witty observations.
    They had a relaxed, almost sedate journey: nothing like their pell-mell rides of the past. He looked as well as ever on a horse, perhaps even better. She made a surreptitious survey of his strong, straight shoulders and the long line of his back as it tapered to his waist. Honed like a fencing sword. He hadn’t looked like that at fourteen. She swallowed over the queer flutter in her stomach.
    “Tell me more about the house.”
    “It’s very houselike. Has a roof and a door.”
    It was like playing at bowls, the back-and-forth of their conversations, each one tossing off a line. Amazing how quickly they settled back into the playful rhythm of childhood. Although childhood had not been so full of… what was it? Tension. Tension that also felt very much like flirtation. He’d become rather adept at it, with his slow smiles and still, penetrating eyes. Gorgeous,