Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(53)
“It would be almost as good on a morning as a cup of tea.”
He leaned down, his eyes meeting hers. They had that sinful sparkle in them, as if he were planning something truly diabolical; his voice was low, and she shivered in expectation. Maybe he’d held back last night because he planned to touch her this morning. Given the pleasure she’d experienced last night, whatever he had planned was sure to be decadent. She could anticipate the languorous slide of his hands down her sides. He would touch her, soon. He had to, or she would lose her sanity.
“Do you want to know what might be classified as truly, darkly, unforgivably evil?”
“Yes.” Her assent was quick and breathy. “Oh, yes.”
He smiled broadly. “This.”
His hands fisted in the covers and then he yanked them away from her—everything from the muslin sheets to the warm wool coverlet.
Cold morning air hit Kate’s skin and she yelped in protest, curling up involuntarily. “Ned, you beast! You led me to expect—”
He laughed. “You wanted me to be evil, didn’t you? Well. This is all the evil you are going to get for now. I’ve rung for your maid. I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? You expect me to be ready in ten minutes? You’ve truly lost your mind.”
Something flitted across his expression at those words—a hint of wariness, perhaps, in the tweak of his mouth—but he shook his head at her. “Ten minutes,” he warned her. “Trust me. It will be worth it.”
She managed to ready herself in half an hour by for-going the usual four layers of petticoats, and settling for a tidy pink walking dress—the kind she might wear for a visit to a tenant farm. Not quite in fashion, but easy to travel in. Her maid twisted her hair up into a simple knot and handed her a wool shawl, and Kate dashed downstairs. It was a measure of how evil he truly was that she didn’t even consider taking longer.
He was as good as his word—which was to say, when he met her coming down the stairs, he handed her a thick clay mug filled with tea, and then gestured for her to follow him out of the front doors, which had been thrown wide. His hand fit warmly into the small of her back.
Outside, mist clung to the trees that lined the road, sifting hanks of white wool out over the world. It stifled all sound. Kate inhaled; her lungs filled with cool air.
“There. You see?”
“It’s a misty morning.”
“Sensible Kate.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “It’s far more than that.”
He set off at a slow pace, and she followed. “There.” He pointed with his free arm up into a tree as they walked under it. She looked up into a mess of leaves and branches. In the quiet, windless morning, the limbs of the tree stood still; she could see clear through them into the blue of the sky.
“There. In the crook formed by those top branches. It’s a nest. At this point, the fledglings have all grown up and flown away. The parents, perhaps, might still be around, although it’s rather late in the year for that.”
She blinked up at the little structure of twigs. “How did you ever see that through all this fog?”
“Oh, I’ve walked this way before. I spotted it several days before.” He shrugged and they kept walking.
A little while later, he paused and pointed out a red-breasted bird on a faraway oak. It pecked the tree trunk smartly once, twice and then flew away. A little bit farther, and he flipped a rock over and showed her the creepy things underneath.
Kate shuddered and looked away. “Centipedes? Ned, did you wake me up to show me centipedes?”
“It’s all part of an autumn morning. This early, humanity—we people with our speech and the noise of our industry—we’re holding our breath and giving nature a chance. Flip over any rock,” he said with a smile, “and no matter how lovely the bird that was perched on top, you’ll find a bug underneath. During summer, the world is warm. But that warmth is just a moment at apogee. The rest of the time, we’re all just hurtling toward winter. It’s not pretty, but it’s real. And in some ways, it’s a bit more fun.”
“Is this supposed to be some sort of oblique commentary on last night?”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “Maybe.”
Kate’s feet were beginning to ache in her half boots. They had been walking for close to an hour, and they were approaching the small village in the valley near Berkswift. “What a depressing way of looking at the world.”
Ned shrugged, but she felt his arm stiffen under hers. “It’s not depressing. That’s the way things work. Seasons come and go. There’s a certain beauty to that, too. During summer, you see, we humans are not so different from the birds or the squirrels. We store up foodstuffs so that we’ll make it through the cold. The birds eat up every last crawling thing they can find, in preparation for a great flight south. We all find our ways to prepare for winter.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke.
Kate shook her head in confusion. “And this is what you wanted me to see?” She had the feeling that something was passing her by, something great and momentous. She didn’t understand, and she could no longer blame her muzzy head on a lack of coffee.
“I know. This explanation has been a bit elliptical. I’m a bit too fanciful this morning.”