Page 84 of When He Was Wicked

“Who taught you to roast fish over an outdoor fire?”

“My father,” he said gruffly. “He was a good sport, perhaps even a bit unconventional. He believed if we hunt something, we should be able to prepare and cook it. So I am highly proficient in roasting fish, pheasants, and deer.”

“Your voice echoes with missing him,” she murmured.

He nodded but somehow couldn’t find the words to speak. Finally, Simon said, “He has been gone now for five years, and I still miss him every day.”

“That sounds like he was a wonderful father.”

Simon smiled.

“Have you heard from Lady Ellen?”

Not doubting the insanity of his ease with the lady beside him, Simon quickly told her all that transpired.

“Oh, that is wonderful!”

He cleared his throat to chase away the tight feeling creeping inside his chest. “Perhaps you might do a portrait for them. I would pay you handsomely, of course.”

At her silence, he considered her bent head. “Did I say something wrong?”

Henrietta’s mouth trembled slightly before she bit into her lower lip. “I want to say yes, very badly, but I must protect my secret identity, Simon.”

Hell. He had not been thinking. “Your talent is so damn incredible. It is a shame you have to hide it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not many in thetonwould be as broad-minded as you. They would cry foul should they learn it was a lady who painted them.”

“The damn pompous fools.”

Henrietta grinned. “The damn pompous fools indeed.” The wind whipped color into her cheeks, and they flushed a most becoming pink.

Simon’s heart started to pound. “I—”

The small dog racing ahead suddenly disappeared, and a frightened yowl sounded.

“Zeus!”

Henrietta dashed forward, and Simon lunged and drew her back. “Be careful. Let me see what happened.”

Simon hurried forward, looking down to see the small dog had fallen down a sharp incline. He cursed his distraction. The land was unfamiliar. He had not known this sharp cliff existed. The dog was barely perched on a crumbling ledge and was agitated. The rocks beneath its tiny paws crumbled, and Simon’s belly clenched. If it gave way, the pup would plummet to its death.

“I must go for him.”

Horror darkened Henrietta’s eyes. “You cannot! That small ledge is barely holding Zeus’s tiny weight. Whatever are youthinking? We must think of…” Another frightened cry tore from her when the rocks crumbled, and the scared pup started to slip.

Simon scrambled down the side of the cliff, cursing as the land heaved beneath his feet.What the hell was I thinking? were the thoughts that slammed into his head as he propelled down the cliffside with too much speed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Henrietta’s heart pounded with dread as she watched Simon struggle up the incline with Zeus clutched against his chest. The earth beneath his feet was precarious, and he slipped. His virulent curse reached her ears when he started to tumble backward.

“Simon!” she screamed, petrified.

Below him, the drop was terrible. Should he fall, he would suffer several broken bones or even death. She lunged forward, intending to help him.

“You stay there,” he roared, something wild flashing in his eyes. “By God, I will tan your backside if you come down here.”

It was not the ferocity of his snarl that stopped her but the echoes of fear in his voice for her.Dear Lord, please, allow Simon to come up safely.