Page 28 of Hot and Bothered in July
Reed had done his best to prepare the rest of the cottage for that evening, knowing he would not have much of an opportunity to make it somewhere Sariah would never forget. He wanted it to be special, memorable.
He picked a few flowers from the marquess’ gardens, sure that Lord Harville would not mind it if he snipped a few fragrant blooms. Besides, if things went accordingly, Reed would ensure that the marquess was well compensated for any losses as he fully intended to propose to Sariah, properly this time.
He did not have a ring to offer, no family heirloom, but he vowed she could have her choice of anything in London. Or Paris—anywhere she wished and it would be hers.
He would give her anything she wanted, just as long as she always chose him.
Reed could not wait for the sun to start to dip beyond the horizon. But first, he had to try to act as though he did not want to rid Lord Michael of his bollocks.
“If you keep staring at him like that, you are only going to encourage him that much more.”
He glanced at Lady Margaret, one of Sariah’s best friends, and the daughter to the Earl of Blasingame. They had been partnered together for the event. Until now, Reed realized he had been rather inattentive, intent on the couple shooting a few targets down from them. “I apologize, Lady Margaret. I should be grateful to be with such a lovely, and rather skilled, companion.”
She gave a shrug, her red hair glistening in the sun. She was a rather handsome woman, and had Reed not been overcome with desire for Sariah, he might have been incentivized to court her, regardless of whether her father was another potential investor for his shipping business. Not only that, but she was more levelheaded than many other women he had ever come across. She would have made a formidable ally in business if women were allowed to take charge of such things. It was generally expected that a male family member, or husband, take over the reins of commerce. It was another injustice that Reed personally hoped would change someday.
“I am not bothered by your jealousy, Mr. Carrington. I am grateful you are not trying to deny your feelings for Sariah have shifted.”
His mouth kicked up in the corner. “You are very observant, Lady Margaret.”
She had her bow poised and ready to shoot, but she paused and lowered her weapon. “Please, just call me Maggie. I despise of continuous formality.” He inclined his head as she raised the bow again. “And it is not observation that shows me how you feel about Sariah, but a mirrored image of what I see on her face when she looks at you.”
As the arrow flew evenly through the air and pierced the target with almost dead accurate precision, he clapped his gloved hands together. “Well done, my lady.” He put a hand over his heart and corrected, “Maggie.” They swapped positions, but before he lifted his weapon, he murmured, “I hope it is not merely an exaggeration of her desire for me.”
“Trust me,” she stated firmly and without hesitation. “It is not. But I think you already know that deep down.”
He hesitated, positioning his arrow. “I believe I do,” he confirmed, and released. While the arrow hit the mark, it was not as well placed as the lady’s.
Maggie moved to stand beside him and gave a slight wince. “I hope your business is more successful than your athletic abilities.”
He lifted a brow. “Touché, my lady. My pride demands that you alter your statement, but I cannot argue with the truth.”
Together they shared a laugh and moved toward the next target.
Across the lawn, Sariah frowned. She wondered what Reed and Maggie were discussing that made them look so content together. She was thrilled that they were getting along, but perhaps she would have liked it better had they not beenquiteso comfortable.
“Miss Kent?”
She snapped back to the present and looked at Lord Michael, who was gesturing to the forgotten bow in her hand.
“It is your turn.”
“Yes. Of course,” she muttered. She looked toward the target down the field and saw that her partner had nearly hit it dead center. “Well done, my lord.”
“Thank you. Although you should have known me long enough to ascertain that I always hit the target I aim for.”
Sariah wanted to sigh. She did not miss the double entendre. She had been privy to them all morning and she was growing weary of his attempt to be witty. It was true she had once fancied herself in love with him and had looked forward to his visits with her brother when she had been younger, but the hard truth now was that he just wasn’t Reed. A man like her betrothed was impossible to duplicate.
Rather than reply, she took her place and closed one eye to get a better perspective before she released her arrow. It sailed across the distance with expert precision and overtook Lord Michael’s attempts. She wanted to crow her achievements, but she knew she was expected to cater to a man’s fragile pride. Her mother had drilled that into her head from an early age. She decided that was one of the reasons she fought so hard forequality in England. But rather than chafe at ignoring her skill, she muttered, “The wind is very unpredictable today.”
Lord Michael laughed. “Come now, Miss Kent, you can say what you truly mean. I know you have always been quite able with a bow and arrow. You did grow up in the country and preferred the outdoors to watercolors.”
She reluctantly felt her lips twitch. “I daresay you are quite right, Lord Michael. Although my mother has forbidden me to climb trees any longer.”
He sobered slightly. “I suppose I never told you that your bold demeanor is what always intrigued me. It was why I visited Foxworth House so often. My friendship with Richard was not the only reason.”
Sariah glanced at him in surprise. “I never knew you saw me as anything more than a bothersome younger sister who made a fuss if she did not get to join you both.”
His dark eyes warmed slightly. “Then I failed miserably at my attempts to gain your regard. For that, I suppose I shall forever regret my actions since you are now promised to another.”
