Page 6 of Winning Winnie’s Hand

She glanced in the rearview mirror, expecting the knight—she really needed to find out his name—to come up to her car and send her off, but he had moved to his horse instead.

She hesitated. As much as she didn’t want to step foot in this rain, she also didn’t want to appear ungrateful to the guy, especially if he was an employee and she would be working directly above him.

And he had done her a solid.

She pulled her umbrella out of her bag, opened the door, then popped the canopy up before stepping out into the rain and closing the door behind her. A few drops pelted against her as she adjusted her skirt and walked swiftly toward the knight, his back to her.

Her heels clicked against the road as she sidestepped the muddy tracks her tires had left behind, then she stopped at the edge of the mud, waiting for him to face her. When he didn’t, she raised her voice above the sound of the rain.

“Thank you for your help,” she called out, trying to make this quick. The waiting Mr. Wintour was more important.

Finally, the knight turned. Instead of the shining armor from before, dark mud splayed out across his front, a few dots still speckling his brow as he tried to wipe the muck from his face with his wet gloves.

She winced. “I did that, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he said over his shoulder, still not looking at her. “I fear that thou hast been the cause of my less than desirable appearance. But worry not. ’Tis nothing a little rain cannot be rid of.”

He finally sent her a smile, but it faltered as his eyes traveled the length of her, returning to her face with a lingering gaze. After another moment, he blinked, then averted his stare altogether.

Winnie was no stranger to being checked out. The men she’d worked with in New York stared at any woman with legs and a head. What she wasn’t used to, however, was a man looking away as fast as this guy did. He looked almost embarrassed for being caught staring.

Why was that more flattering than being ogled?

CHAPTER THREE

Matthew was grateful for the growing darkness, if only to prevent his blush from being seen by the woman he’d just been caught staring at.

He’d been unable to help himself. He’d seen her beauty before in the car—dark hair twisted up in an elegant style, red lips, smooth skin, and piercing gray eyes. But as she stood before him now, tall and regal, her black umbrella sheltering her feminine frame and long legs, he’d been stunned into silence.

He knew more than anyone that women were more than their physical appearance, so he’d looked away as soon as he’d realized he’d been staring, but her image remained emblazoned in his mind’s eye, despite him focusing on his horse instead.

Who was she? Was she really expected at Foxwood? And what was she doing there so late at night, speeding down the drive in a rainstorm?

“Well, I really am sorry for splashing you,” the woman said with sincerity, preventing him from asking the questions swirling in his mind. “And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “I’m super grateful for your help.”

“’Tis no trouble, my lady,” Matthew returned.

He hoped going back to speaking Ye Olde English wasn’t annoying to the woman. He had discovered years before that talking in such a way allowed him a level of confidence he otherwise struggled to possess. The accent—as well as his armor and lance—helped him to replace nerdy, history-obsessed Matthew with noble, knightly Sir Matthew, and people always responded better to the latter than the former.

His horse nickered before him, Nightshade standing still and patient, ears flicking back and forth as he listened to the sounds around him. The rain, their voices, Matthew’s softly clanking armor…The woman behind him clearing her throat.

“I’m Winnie, by the way,” she stated. “Winnie Knox.”

Matthew hesitated, then braved another look at her, allowing himself a casual glance instead of the full-on gawping he’d done before.

She stood with one heel slightly forward than the other, a small smile on her face as she extended her right hand toward him.

“Oh, and I’d prefer your actual name,” she added. “Unless you wish to keep up with this knight-business for longer.”

He would prefer to keep it up for longer, but clearly, she was done with it.

He stared at her outstretched hand but made no move to take it. “Matthew,” he finally responded, raising his muddy gloves to face her. “And I’d shake your hand, but as you can see, that would not do you any good.”

“Ah, I appreciate it.” She lowered her offered hand, then her eyes traveled the length of his armor. “So, do you work here at the estate, or do you just find yourself dressing up like a knight and riding on other people’s properties for fun?”

Matthew hesitated. He’d given her his name, she’d claimed she was expected at the estate, and yet, she still didn’t know who he was.

This could be fun.