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event. “It is only
that it came as a great surprise. I have not had time to accustom
myself to the idea,” she said stiffly.
    He looked her over with a critical eye, or
so it seemed to Demi. “I confess, I find it hard to imagine you was
a minister’s wife.”
    Demi sent him a look. “If you have only come
to insult me, you may go away again!”
    His eyes gleamed with amusement. A slight
smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You wound me. I have
gone out of my way to offer solace, and all you will do is tell me
to go away. I must tell you, Miss Standish, I’m not at all
accustomed to this sort of treatment. In general I seem to have the
opposite effect on women.”
    Demi didn’t know whether to be amused or
irritated. Finally, amusement won out. “I had not pegged you as
being so full of your own consequence.”
    He sighed. “It’s hard to remain humble when
so many designing mamas and dutiful daughters are throwing
themselves at your head.”
    Surprised by the comment,
Demi looked him over searchingly. “I suppose by that you mean that
no matter what your station in life, there are always obstacles to
one’s happiness. You , at least, have the option of running, however.”
    “ But that wounds my
dignity,” he said pensively.
    She chuckled in spite of herself. “I’ll
admit I have trouble imagining it.”
    “ Would you run if you
could?”
    Demi shrugged. “I’m certain I will grow
accustomed,” she said, not very convincingly.
    “ I take it by that the
answer is no. There are no other options?”
    She turned to study him again. She’d been at
pains not to admit how distasteful she found her engagement, but
she supposed it would’ve been obvious to a stump that she was
unhappy about it. “None that I would seriously consider. None that
are not as bad or worse.”
    “ You’ve no sense of
adventure then?” he said, smiling faintly.
    She sighed. “Aunt Alma has always accused me
of being just like my father whenever I displease her, but I’m
afraid I’m not as much like my father she seems to think--no, I
don’t. I have far too much imagination.”
    “ Some would say being
adventuresome requires an imagination.”
    “ A fanciful imagination, I
should think,” Demi said tartly. “For myself, I am more inclined to
imagine the consequences of rash actions.”
    “ You have a particular
reason for not wishing to wed Reverend Flemming?”
    “ Beyond the fact that I
would be trading one tyrant for another far more dangerous one?”
Demi responded tartly, then gasped and covered her mouth with her
hand, looking at him wide-eyed. “I should not have said that. I
don’t know what made me say that.”
    Lord Wyndham was frowning. “The fact that
you believe it to be true?”
    She sighed. “You don’t? I mean, do you think
that I’ve misjudged him?”
    Again, he shrugged. “You would be in a
better position to judge than I.”
    Demi huddled a little deeper into his coat
and shivered. The sun had set and long shadows spilled into the
meadow from the wood that surrounded it. It would be dark soon. She
knew she should go in, but she was reluctant to return to Moreland
Abbey and the almost certain wrath of her aunt. As if he sensed her
thoughts, or perhaps because she’d shivered, Lord Wyndham slipped
an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She stiffened,
but she didn’t try to pull away. After a few moments, she relaxed
against him, dropping her head against his shoulder, relishing her
closeness to him.
    She knew he meant to kiss her when he tucked
a finger beneath her chin and urged her to look up at him.
    She knew she shouldn’t allow it.
    She lifted her face to look up at him
without hesitation, with complete trust. Their gazes locked for a
suspended moment in time, then, slowly, he dipped his head closer
to hers, brushed his lips lightly across the sensitive surfaces of
her own. A rush of delight filled her at the feather light contact,
suspending her breath in her chest. When