Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(15)

"I believe I will join you," Nick murmured, accompanying the eager rakes down the hill.

Laughing recklessly, Lottie joined the mass of maidens who waited in tense readiness to race to the village green. From what she had been able to deduce, the betrothed of May was an exceptional catch this year-the butcher's son, a handsome blond lad with blue eyes and a fine physique, and a guarantee of inheriting a profitable family business. Of course Lottie had no intention of trying to reach him. However, it was fun to join in the game, and she was entertained by the excitement of the girls around her. The signal was given, and Lottie was carried along with the village girls in a frantic rush. The wildness and noise was such a contrast to her quiet existence at Stony Cross Park that she felt a jolt of exhilaration. She had spent so many years learning proper comportment at Maidstone's, and struggling to remain inconspicuous as a companion to Lady Westcliff, that she couldn't remember the last time she had raised her voice. Caught up in the moment, she howled with laughter and screamed as loudly as the determined brides-to-be around her as the group swarmed over the green. From somewhere ahead, a jubilant cry rang over the crowd. The victor, a robust red-haired girl, clambered onto her new fiance's broad shoulders, exultantly waving a bouquet of wildflowers. "I did it!" she crowed. "I got 'im, 'e's mine!"

Cheering, the villagers surrounded the newly betrothed couple, while disappointed maidens scattered and ran toward the forest. A host of eager men followed, ready to begin the night's a-maying.

Smiling, Lottie followed at a relaxed pace, having no wish to be the focus of some overexcited lad's amorous attention. In a few minutes, the revelers would pair off, and she would sneak back to Stony Cross Park. Stopping at the edge of the forest, she leaned against a heavy-crowned sycamore and sighed in satisfaction. Her knees were pleasantly weak from dancing and wine. This was the first year she had actually taken part in May Day, rather than simply watched, and it had been even more enjoyable than she had expected. A tune played insistently in her head, and she sang to herself in a whisper, her eyes closed as she rested back against the smooth, mottled bark.

Go no more a-rushing, maids in May, go no more a-rushing, maids, I pray, go no more a-rushing, or you'll fall a-blushing...

Although all was still and quiet around her, some instinct warned she was no longer alone. Pausing, Lottie lifted her lashes and recoiled as she saw a dark shape right beside her. "Good Lord!" She stumbled backward, and a pair of hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her.

Sputtering in surprise, Lottie flailed at her captor in a bid for freedom.

"Easy," came a masculine voice, rich with laughter. "Easy. It's me."

She gasped and went still, staring up at his dark face. "Lord S-Sydney?"

"Yes."

"You nearly frightened me to death!"

"Sorry." He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. "I didn't want to interrupt you."

Lottie laughed and pushed at him, mortified to be caught singing to herself like some half-wit. "How did you find me?"

"It seems to be a talent of mine." Sydney released her and leaned one shoulder against the sycamore, his careless smile at variance with his alert gaze.

Lottie felt for her kerchief, which had been dislodged in the flurry of activity. "I covered my hair-I can't think how you recognized me."

"I know the way you move."

She did not reply, experiencing a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty. There was a compliment implicit in the statement. But he was a stranger...he had not known her long enough, nor well enough, to distinguish something so intrinsic and subtle.

"Did you enjoy the May festivities, my lord?" she asked as she tied the kerchief back into place.

"I enjoyed watching you."

Her eyes narrowed in pretend-menace. "Do you intend to tell anyone that you saw me here?"

Lord Sydney leaned closer, as if to impart some highly confidential news. "Not if my life depended on it."

Smiling, Lottie leaned her shoulder against the tree trunk, mirroring his posture. "Are you going a-maying, like the other young men?"

"That depends." A flirtatious gleam entered his eyes. "Are you going to run through the forest in hopes of being captured?"

"Decidedly not."

"Then allow me to escort you back to the house. I shouldn't like for you to be waylaid by some impassioned village youth."

"Oh, I would outrun any of them," Lottie said confidently. "I know these woods quite well, and I am small enough to dart easily among the trees. No one could catch me."

"I could."

"A man as large as you? I think not. In these woods, with all the underbrush, you would be as noisy as a rampaging elephant."

His body tensed subtly, his appreciation of the impudent challenge almost palpable. "You might be surprised-" he began, and paused as he was distracted by a feminine squeal from somewhere to the left of them, as a village girl was "caught" by a randy young man. A moment of silence, and then a loud moan of pleasure filtered through the trees.

When Sydney turned back to Lottie, she was gone.

Laughing inwardly, she slipped through the woods like a wraith, raising her skirts to her knees to keep from being snagged by branches. She maneuvered easily through the maze of trunks and flexible saplings, until finally all was quiet and there was no sign of anyone behind her. Pausing for breath, Lottie glanced over her shoulder. No movement, nothing except for the distant sounds of May Day carousing.