Liberty for Paul (24 page)

Outside, there was a chestnut mare saddled and ready. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?” she asked, coming up beside the beast.

“Horse.”

“Did you think of that all on your own?” she teased, putting her foot in his cupped hands.

He boosted her up and helped her get settled. “Actually, I did. My brother wanted to name her something else. Something entirely unsuitable, I might add.”

She wondered what it had been. If Paul had been Mr. Daltry, she would have asked. Her face heated up thinking of the scandalous things they’d talked about. His soft chuckle brought her back to reality.

“Your fetching blush suggests you’re thinking up all sorts of naughty possibilities. However, I can assure you, you’ll never guess,” he said, flashing her a wolfish grin.

“Then you shall have to inform me,” she said, holding the reigns a bit too tight.

He shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, there are things even I won’t say. And even if I were the kind to say such filth, I wouldn’t say it in front of you.”

“And why not?” she demanded haughtily.

“Because I’d hate to offend your sensibilities by shocking you,” he said, still grinning. “By the way, you’re holding the reigns too tight. Relax your hold. That’s better.”

“Your excuse won’t wash with me. I know lots of shocking things,” she returned pertly.

He snorted. “Like what?” He grabbed onto Horse’s bridle and started walking her forward.

“Like all sorts of dirty slang for a man’s pizzle,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t turn around and catch her blushing.

He stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. “Finally figure that out, did you?”

“Yes, no thanks to you,” she retorted after he started walking again.

“I would have told you if you’d asked. You never did. And when I offered, you refused and fled the room soon after,” he returned. Silence engulfed them, broken only when Paul made an unusual sound with his mouth and mused, “Who did tell you, I wonder.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. This had not been a good conversation to start, she realized. She’d wanted him to confide whatever secret he was keeping from her and thought he’d tell her if she exposed that she wasn’t as innocent as he thought. Apparently she was wrong. “A friend,” she said at last.

“A friend?” he repeated bitterly, sending nervous chills up her spine.

“Yes, a friend,” she confirmed.

He pulled on Horse’s bridle and she turned slightly to start walking toward a not so distant stream. “Why Miss Live-by-the-rules Liberty, I must say I’m rather surprised you would choose a friend who’d discuss such things; or even think about them, for that matter.”

Irritation at his words caused her lips to twist into a sneer. “There's lots of things you don’t know about me.”

“Of that, I am quite certain,” he said dryly, guiding the horse around a knot of trees and shrubs. “You hardly see fit to share anything about yourself with me.” His last sentence was barely louder than a whisper and caused her heart to squeeze at the raw emotion exposed in his words. He’d wanted to know her and she’d purposely been distant.

“What would you like to know?” she asked, ready to make a new start.

“There are many things I’d like to know. But first, I’d like to know if you’d care to have a picnic with me,” he asked, leading Horse around one final tree to where a picnic had been lain out and was waiting for them.

“You planned this?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Not at all,” he said, shaking his head earnestly. “About an hour ago, I was walking from that gazebo over there,” he pointed to a white gazebo a hundred yards away, “after having my daily devotions and I happened upon a couple of young lovers in the midst of a tryst. Scandalized, I preached to them until they abandoned their wicked activities, begged me to baptize them in the stream and went along their merry way. Then I thought what a shame it would be to let their food go to waste and came to see if you would like to indulge in the act of gluttony with me.”

She couldn’t control the giggle that overtook her. “I would be happy to be a glutton with you. Although, I must admit, I had no idea you had such a sense of humor,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he put his hands on her waist to help her off the horse.

“Didn’t you?” he murmured in her ear, his warm breath fanning her ear. “Perhaps there are many things you don’t know about me, either.” He led her to the blanket and unloaded the basket while she sat down on the blanket and watched the ripples in the stream.

Placing her hands on the ground behind her, she reclined and tilted her face toward the sun. It was a rather warm day for the middle of March, she mused as the sun heated her face. Feeling daring, she brought one hand up and untied her bonnet and tossed it down next to her. “What did you pack for us?” she asked casually.

“Nothing,” he said, pulling out a wheel of cheese. “But I have it best authority that Cookie sent some of her famous shredded chicken sandwiches.”

“Cookie?” she repeated with a small giggle. “Please tell me that is not her real name.”

“No,” he admitted, coming to sit next to her. He’d stripped to his shirtsleeves and had undone his top button. He sat with his knees up and his arms resting across them. “That’s just what we call her. Sadly, I don’t remember all the story, but I’ll tell you what I can remember. When I was three I liked to go help her make cookies and other treats in the kitchen. One day I told her I loved her and thought she was sweeter than any cookie ever could be.” He put his head down and shook it, undeniably embarrassed. “Thank goodness I don’t remember saying that to her. However, even though I don’t remember it, both Cookie and my mother thought it was the most darling thing ever and from that day forward, everyone always called her Cookie.”

She laughed. “You’ll have to make cookies for us sometime, then,” she said, favoring him with a smile.

“Oh, you don’t want me to, I assure you,” he told her, grabbing a sandwich and handing it to her. “I’ve tried on a few occasions to make them myself. They were so bad a stray dog I found in Bath wouldn’t eat them.”

She stripped off her gloves before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. “These are good. Do you think she’d write the recipe down for Mrs. Siddons?” she asked before sinking her teeth into the sandwich again.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he inhaled his sandwich.

They finished their picnic and Liberty was helping to put the glasses and such away when Paul grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll get it.”

“No; you got it out. I’ll put it away.”

He shook his head. “If you want to you can, but I was wondering if you might want to do something else instead.”

“All right,” she said curiously. He was being extremely nice to her today and she couldn’t figure out why. Not that he’d been especially mean to her in the past, but today it felt like he was going out of his way to be overly friendly and it caused the guilt of what she’d done with Mr. Daltry to increase tenfold.

“Do you remember the day I was late to Alex’s?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, you asked where I was that day and I said out. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” she said, breaking eye contact. “You said your watch was broken and you lost track of time while you were out.” This would have been a perfect time to give him his watch back. If only she would have brought it with her.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But I didn’t say anything just now about my watch. I asked if you remember that I told you I was out.”

“Yes,” she said, looking back to his face. “You said you were out, but never said what you were doing.” She pulled her wrist from his fingers as if she’d been burned. Had he been with another woman that day?

“Would you like to know what I was doing?” he asked gently.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. She knew he’d been with other women, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear him admit it. Especially after they’d had such a good morning so far.

He smiled at her. “How about if I tell you anyway? I was fishing.”

“Fishing?” she repeated, astonished. “Do you do that often?”

He nodded. “As often as I can. It’s my favorite pastime. I usually go in the afternoon after I’ve taken care of all my responsibilities with the church.”

“I see.”

“I brought my equipment with me today and I thought I’d teach you, if you’d like.”

She couldn’t have been more surprised if he
had
confessed to an affair. “I would like that very much,” she said simply, watching as a grin bent his lips.

He walked over to where a smaller basket was setting closer to the stream. He lifted the lid and pulled out a little box. She walked over to stand next to him as he pointed at the objects inside and said, “These are called flies. They’re made from bits of animal hair and bird feathers wrapped around a hook and made to look like an insect.” He took a couple out and placed them on his bare palm then held it up for her to see the different flies. “As you can see, some turned out better than others. The one on the far right, for example; it would be a perfect mayfly except I didn’t wrap the thread tight enough and some of the hair has come loose.”

“You made them?” she asked, picking one up to inspect it more closely.

“Of course. A fisherman is only as good as his tackle,” he told her, putting all but one fly back into the box. He put the fly box back and grabbed what looked like a giant spool of thread. “This is called the reel and the string you see wrapped around is called the line,” he said, holding it up so she could see it. He frowned. “There seems to be a tangle in it. Say, why don’t you grab my rod while I work out this knot?”

“
Excuse me?” she exclaimed in shock. He wanted her to grab his
rod
?

He looked up with wide and innocent eyes. “Grab my pole while I finish untangling this.”

Her eyes went even wider. She hoped she’d misheard him the first time, but apparently she hadn’t. The rude man had brought her out here with the express intent to do unspeakable things. Well, that did not mean she had to let him. She crossed her arms and stared at him while he picked at the knot.

“Or just stand there and watch me,” he grumbled, tugging on the line.

Angry heat crept up her face and she bit the inside of her cheek. Her gaze dropped to just below his waist and she swallowed. Slowly she uncrossed one of her arms and extended her hand in the direction of his waist. Her fingers were just scant inches from him when suddenly his fingers closed around her wrist, staying her hand. Her eyes flew to his. “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

Her face flamed with embarrassment and she moistened her lips. “You said to grab your rod,” she said defiantly.

“Oh, for goodness' sakes, Liberty,” he burst out, “I meant my fishing rod. Look to your left. Do you see that long skinny pole leaning against the tree there? That’s what I was talking about, not my privates. It seems you have willies on the brain today.”

Mortification overtook her. “I’m sorry,” she started, “I—”

“
Don’t worry about it,” he said, cutting her off. “You didn’t realize I wasn’t talking metaphorically. It’s all right. Would you please go grab my
fishing
rod?”

Without responding, she walked over to the tree, snatched the pole and walked back over to him. “Here,” she said, resting it against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up his rod and attaching the reel.

“You’re welcome. Once again I’m sorry about…” she trailed off and looked at his hands as they twisted little metal objects on the rod.

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “Although, I must say, it’s good to know you’re so eager to touch me there,” he teased.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t willing at first,” she countered cheekily. “It was only after I decided you’d never ask me to do so again when I was done with you that I reached forward.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Is that so? I knew you were a bloodthirsty one.”

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed with a smile.

“Never fear, now that I know that, I shall not ask you to touch me there,” he told her with a smile. “However, I would like you to grab onto the end of this.” He held the rod out to her and she grabbed the handle.

“Now what do I do?” she asked.

“First, you wait a minute while I finish tying the fly onto the line.” He quickly tied the line around the hook eye. “Done. Now, we go fish with it.” He led her closer to the stream and stood behind her before covering her hands with his. “First you have to pull out a good bit of line, like so. Then you cast. To do that you put your right hand here and you loosely hold onto the line with your left. Exactly so. All right. Now, you’re going to bring it straight up in the air and then snap it forward. Very good. Now, do it again. Don’t go so far back. You want to keep your wrist straight and stop when your forearm meets your upper arm.” He released her and stood back to watch.

“Like this?” she asked, demonstrating what she thought to be proper form.