Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(42)

He’d heard Diana call to his brother with that happy note of welcome and . . . Bloody hell. He’d lost his mind. He couldn’t remember when he’d gone so white-hot with anger. Not for years.

“You weren’t waiting for Leonidas,” he answered himself. “That was . . . I apologize.”

Diana was staring at him. She put her hands on her hips. “Your brother is a friend. Whenever your siblings are on leave from school, I spend a great deal of time with all of them, and that includes Leonidas.”

“He told you about the island,” North said, gathering the threads of his sanity together.

“What are you doing here?” Diana demanded. “You should be with your family.”

“They are bathing and such. As you pointed out, it can take a lady three hours to change clothing.”

She shook her head, slowly. “You are a terrible liar.”

“There are so many of them. They’re very loud.” His hands were clenched at his sides, because if he didn’t keep them in fists, he would reach out and pull her into his arms again. Kissing Diana, as it turned out, was like eating honey toast.

Curative, if not irresistible.

She surveyed him in a silence broken only by a cricket.

Then, to his utter shock, instead of answering, she took a step forward and tucked her head under his chin. He didn’t move, as frozen as if the cricket had landed on his palm. Diana wrapped her arms around his middle and relaxed against him.

Uncurling his fists, North slipped his arms around her, resting his cheek against her head. Her hair had the sweet, elusive scent of sunshine and under that, lake water. Something wound very tight in his chest relaxed.

“It’s going to be all right,” Diana said against his chest, her voice so low that he hardly heard her over the lapping of water at their feet.

He kissed her hair, and kissed the one ear he could see. Then he put his cheek back down on her hair and they stood in the late afternoon sunshine and listened to silvery-green willow spears rustling in the breeze. The cricket went to sleep or forgot its own tune.

After a while he stepped back. “Do you really need to return to the nursery immediately?”

He’d always thought Diana’s eyes were a clear gray, ringed in midnight blue. But with the lake behind her, they turned misty blue. She shook her head. “Artie is with your mother. Leonidas almost certainly took Godfrey to the stables; they have a tradition of greeting every horse when he comes home.”

North digested that. Godfrey had become a member of the family; no wonder his aunt hadn’t told Diana that Godfrey would be a laird. The situation was something akin to when the second duchess took Joan to London, perhaps planning to abscond with the baby to the continent.

One of their own was in danger of being stolen away. Lady Knowe, let alone the duke, would never allow it.

Accepting that thought, North decided that he would like to take Godfrey for visits to the stables. The thought of a little boy on his shoulders felt right. He and Diana had to talk about that. They had to talk about many things, but not at the moment.

“You weren’t punting to the island?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to maneuver the pole. I came here with Lavinia once during the betrothal party. We just pushed the boat away from shore until it drifted under the willow tree, where all the branches dip below the surface. I escape here sometimes.”

“I don’t suppose there’s much privacy when you are living with very small children.”

“No,” Diana said with a wry smile. “As you know, Godfrey ends up in my bed. Sometimes they both find their way there.”

North looked down, and she curled her bare toes in embarrassment. “I’ve seen your feet,” he pointed out. “Under your night robe, which is a good deal more improper than this.”

She had dropped her ugly black shoes on the grass. She was looking at him—at his mouth?—so he stretched out one foot and gently kicked one of her shoes right over the bank and into the lake.

Diana gasped. “Those are my only pair of shoes!”

He gave the other shoe a harder kick, and it flew off the bank and into the water with a splash, like an ugly clod of dirt.

“How dare you,” Diana cried, narrowing her eyes and placing her hands back on her hips, the drowsy-eyed temptress replaced by an eagle-eyed governess.

North tried to kick one of the serviceable black stockings next, but it didn’t go far, and Diana grabbed it. “You’re out of your mind,” she gasped, clutching the stocking to her breast.

For some reason, the idea didn’t bother him, the way it had for months. Instead the corners of his mouth curled up and he tugged at the stocking she held. “This is too practical to be worn by you.”

He didn’t want anything like that on her body. Near her.

“I have only two pairs of stockings,” Diana said, obviously marshaling her patience. “I’m no good at darning. These are my best pair. What am I going to do without shoes?”

She didn’t ask the question to him, but to herself. The words had a quiet desolation to them that chilled North to his core. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “I am going to buy you shoes, the kind you used to wear.”

“No, you are not.” She didn’t bother to shake her head, but North could feel rejection of that idea through her whole body.