Page 31

Although it was dark between the trees, the sun sent shafts of sunlight through the canopy, and a green hue covered everything.

At Alicia’s gasp of wonder, Seth stopped, and she collided with him. His arm came up on instinct, steadying her, but she pulled away, her cheeks flushed.

“Look there,” she whispered, and he followed her gaze.

In the clearing ahead, at the bottom of the little valley of tree roots, was a baby fawn.

The tiny animal was dwarfed on all sides by the huge trunks of the trees, and Seth went still, not wishing to frighten it.

Slowly, from beneath the undergrowth to its right, another fawn appeared with its mother. After chewing on some of the moss around them, they wandered away into the trees.

“I have never seen a deer before,” Alicia breathed.

“Never?” Seth asked, turning to her.

She shook her head. “Perhaps in a distant field, silhouetted against the horizon, but never so close. They are much smaller than I imagined.”

The excitement in her eyes made him feel strange and off balance as they finally reached the bottom of the little valley.

“I came here often as a boy,” he muttered, suddenly embarrassed to have made her come all the way down to this special place.

She probably thought it would be something spectacular, when all it really is, is damp cobwebs and moss-covered trees.

Alicia skirted the compacted leaves on the ground, tracing a hand over the bark. “You came here alone?” she asked.

“Often. I like my own company. Sometimes I came with my friends, when we were young.”

She did not ask any more questions, for which he was grateful. He was certain she would be desperate to learn what had happened in his past—what trial it was that he had been forced to attend, who had died. But she had not asked him yet.

Perhaps she never will.

Watching her walk among the trees made an ache throb in his chest. She looked like a tree nymph moving between her subjects.

He found himself drawn repeatedly to the curve of her neck, the line of it allowing him to run his eye over her shoulders and down to her slim waist.

“How many people have you brought here?” she asked, turning in place and cocking her head as she looked at him.

“In recent years, none. Very few know of this place; it was my little hideaway.”

“That seems to be a habit,” she said, her voice soft in the dense trees.

“What do you mean?”

“You hid for much of yesterday,” she pointed out, her eyes hardening. “I did not see you until the end, but then you barely spoke to me. I heard your friends saying that you were hiding in your study.”

“I was not hiding,” he grumbled.

“Then what were you doing?” she asked, walking toward him, making it impossible for him not to look her over.

Her dress suited her perfectly. He much preferred her in rich fabrics over the pale muslins he had seen her in before.

The attraction that flooded him made his anger spike, and he grimaced, turning away.

“I do not have to explain myself to you,” he said irritably, heading back up the slope.

He scowled as a high-pitched laugh followed him.

“It is hardly a crime to want some time alone, Your Grace.”