An Unsinkable Love(50)
"It was an accident today, wasn't it Malcolm?" Bree suddenly asked, unable to ignore his limping progress.
"Of course. Why would you think anything else?" Malcolm had his own doubts whether it was an accident but didn't want to frighten Bree or his mother. He fully intended to do some serious investigation to find out exactly what happened.
And why.
"No reason, I guess."
She was very subdued the rest of the evening and, as he escorted her up to her room, he suggested, "Come to town 168
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with me tomorrow. I'll show you around and introduce you to some of our friends and employees. And we need to talk to Mother about an engagement party. I want to make sure everyone knows you're already spoken for."
"I'd like that very much, but right now I'd like something else even more." She gazed up at him, eyes bright, lips puckered.
Desire flared in his groin as he obliged, bending down and pressing his lips to hers. Bree's body melted against him. She tasted like the cherry cordial his mother served after dinner.
He pulled her closer, his mouth welded to hers with an increasing heat. He felt her sigh against his lips. Hands shaking, he pulled back and looked down at her pale face. Her eyes flickered open, like she awakened from a dream. He saw a faint tremble in her rose-hued lips. She blinked, her green eyes glazed with longing.
"Was that what you had in mind?" he teased to diffuse the sensual tension.
An impish smile touched her face. "It'll do in a pinch," she said as she skipped though the doorway.
"I'll give you a pinch, you little vixen." But before he could pursue her, Bree slammed the door shut. He heard her amused giggle from the other side.
"Goodnight, my love," she called.
Malcolm answered in kind and, shaking his head at her antics, made his way to his room.
As he readied for bed he was made aware of a myriad damaged muscles from his fall. By morning, he'd be lucky if he could get out of bed.
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He lay down, hands behind his head, thinking over the events right before Soldier went down. They'd been cantering casually along a well-known trail. The track narrowed as it passed between a huge old pine and the steep slope where the creek cut away the bank. The shot caught Soldier dead on his chest, and he'd probably taken only a step or two more before going down on his forelegs and tumbling over the bank. Malcolm mused, "Anywhere but the bed of moss and I'd likely have broken my neck. No one would have heard me cry out, unless they were right there on the trail." If none of the locals admitted to hunting deer out of season, he would ask Ernie to check on visitors from out of the area. The unwelcome thought that the shooter might have been hunting something besides deer niggled around in his head, and it was a long time before he found sleep.
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Chapter 24
The next morning Bree and Elizabeth enjoyed an early breakfast. Neither Eldon nor Malcolm joined them. Elizabeth had no idea where Eldon was, but that didn't appear to be an unusual situation. Malcolm, they'd been informed by Anderson, had breakfasted in his room before enjoying a hot bath to soak away some of the stiffness. He was due to join them momentarily.
While they waited in the parlor, Elizabeth gave in to Bree's request and fetched a large sketch pad from her room. It contained her sketches from the previous season. As the pages turned, Bree was awed by the detailed, flowing drawings of the couturier's models in their finery. The sketches gave the impression of movement and grace. Next to many of the pictures were neat notes suggesting changes to the design.
"I see what Malcolm means, Elizabeth. Your ideas would greatly improve the designs. You're a wonderful artist. Do you paint as well?"
She nodded. "But I haven't in years. Percy used to take me for drives. If there was something interesting, we'd stop and I'd sketch. If there was time, I'd paint. Eldon never has the time, and I don't seem to have the interest anymore."
Elizabeth nodded toward a writing desk in the corner. "That was the last painting I did."
A small, framed oil of a country lane flanked by brilliantly colored fall foliage hung over the desk. The woods seemed to 171
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be afire with color. "Oh, Elizabeth," Bree said as she walked over and stood close to the painting, "it's wonderful. I almost expect to see a coach and four drive up the road."