How to Wed a Baron (26 page)

“Yes, Your Highness,” Justin said.

A
LINA RAN ALONG THE PATH
that wound through trees just budding with bright, spring-green leaves, her muslin skirts hiked almost above her knees as she laughed, occasionally daring a glance back to search out her pursuer.

Just as she burst from the shade of the trees, into the grassy clearing that bordered one of the streams flowing through the country estate, she found herself caught up and swung high off the ground.

“Justin! How do you always do this?” she exclaimed, resting her hands on his broad shoulders. “We always begin together, yet even when I manage to elude you, I can never arrive here first. You must know a secret path.”

He lowered her slowly, their bodies touching in that now-familiar and yet still so thrilling way, until their lips met in a brief kiss before he set her back on her feet. “Perhaps I am a
mullo,
and flew here in the form of a bat,” he said teasingly as they walked hand in hand to the edge of the stream.

“No,” she protested, her good humor fled. “Loiza has told me stories of these supposed vampires. To
the Romany a
mullo
is a terrible dead person who returns only to do malicious things. You do good things. You gave Loiza some of your land.”

“
Our
land, kitten, and he refused the deed, only accepting the offer to set up camp there whenever he wished. And in return he gave me your caravan,” Justin pointed out. “I think that you're taking my selfishness for more than it is.”

She glanced back at the gaily painted caravan that had been her refuge for several days during that terrible and yet glorious time and now sat permanently here, a wedding gift from her husband. She hadn't told him, but she valued this gift more than any of the others, including the sable-trimmed cloak he had been so proud of. Cloaks, furs, jewels: they were all simply
things.
The caravan was and would always be their most private refuge, something much more special, something totally theirs.

“You also arranged for Loiza to be able to return Luka's body to Prague, for burial.”

“And to watch as the
Inhaber
Novak was publicly executed for having murdered the major right on the streets of London. I enjoyed listening to Loiza's recounting of that particular event. Darling, I'm trying my best to be good, but don't paint me as more than I am.”

“If you promise not to paint yourself as less than you are,” she bargained, taking his hand and leading him toward the caravan. “I must insist you be your wonderful, witty, imperious self when we all
travel to London next week. Lydia wrote to me, you know. She says that it is definite, and the princess Charlotte will be presenting the Prince Regent with his first grandchild before the year is out. You must remember to congratulate him when we appear at Carleton House.”

“Why?” Justin teased as he took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the caravan. “He had nothing to do with it.”

“I see I should have made myself more clear. You will please be witty and imperious
except
when speaking to the Prince Regent. Honestly, Justin, do you
like
being banished to the country for months at a time?”

“As long as you're here with me, I believe I might even prefer it. Now, kitten, I assume you invited me to join you here for some reason?”

Accepting the support of his hand, Alina mounted the three steps to the caravan and ducked inside, quickly stepping to her right so that he would have an unimpeded view of the interior.

“Well, hello,” he said as he joined her, his smile, as always, melting her heart. “Would that be a splendid new and infinitely larger bed I'm seeing, or an invitation? Or, if I'm a very lucky man, and I thank the Fates that it appears that I am—both?”

She smiled, her heart full, and reached up to undo his neckcloth. “And I am a very fortunate woman.”