Part 33 (1/2)
”He was a Romany.” She shrugged. ”No one knows. It is too big for the bride's finger. She will wear it about her neck as I did, and no one will see it.”
Sir Henry had to laugh, turning his gaze back to the couple, who were even now saying their good-byes to the Murdoch family. ”Will the Romany accept an outsider?”
”They will do what their phuri dai tells them, or I will turn them all into goats.”
He chuckled. ”I pity the council.”
”They need a strong hand; Alexsey will be quite busy, I think. As for his princess, it may be time for someone to take charge of the Great Library.”
”I dinna know Oxenburg had a great library.”
”It is frivolous. My son-in-law purchases thousands of books. He re-created the great library lost at Alexandria, but once the building was finished, he could find no one able to organize the collection.” Natasha took a sip of the scotch, letting it warm her. She couldn't hold back a smile of satisfaction. ”There are many benefits to be had with the woman my grandson has selected. She is very good at organizing. We need that in Oxenburg.”
Sir Henry grinned over his gla.s.s. ”My dear, you are brilliant.”
”I have many talents. Many, many talents.” She held out her gla.s.s to Sir Henry with a smile. ”I shall have more of your fine scotch. I've much planning to do. I've two more grandsons, you know.”
”Och, and no doubt both are as stubborn as you.” Sir Henry grinned. ”At least, they think they are.”
She smiled, but said nothing. There was much left to do before she was ready to step aside and let her family rule itself. Much. But for now, she could enjoy a few peaceful, happy moments.
With a satisfied sigh, she accepted the gla.s.s of scotch from Sir Henry and watched the rose-bedecked coach that carried her grandson and his new bride disappear down the road.
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From the Diary of the d.u.c.h.ess of Roxburghe Huntley arrived early and I spoke to him at length, delicately suggesting that it was time for him to wed again. He nodded thoughtfully, and I believe he has already come to this conclusion himself. I'm sure that all it will take is one look, and the deal will be done. All I have to do is find Lily.
We seem to have somehow misplaced her.
Lily slowly awoke, her mind creeping back to consciousness. She s.h.i.+fted and then moaned as every bone in her body groaned in protest.
A warm hand cupped her face. ”Easy,” came a deep, heavily accented voice.
Lily opened her eyes to find herself staring into the deep green eyes of the most handsome man she'd ever seen.
The man was huge, with broad shoulders that blocked the light and hands so large that the one cupping her face practically covered one side of it. His face was perfectly formed, his cheekbones high above a scruff of a beard that her fingers itched to touch.
”The brush broke your fall, but you will still be bruised.”
He looked almost too perfect to be real. She placed her hand on his where it rested on her cheek, his warmth stealing into her cold fingers. He's not a dream.
She gulped a bit and tried to sit up, but was instantly pressed back to the ground.
”Nyet,” the giant said, his voice rumbling over her like waves over a rocky beach. ”You will not rise.”
She blinked. ”Nyet?”
He grimaced. ”I should not say 'nyet' but 'no.' ”
”I understood you perfectly. I am just astonished that you are telling me what to do.” His expression darkened and she had the distinct impression that he wasn't used to being told no. ”Who are you?”
”It matters not. What matters is that you are injured and wish to stand. That is foolish.”
She pushed herself up on one elbow. As she did so, her hat, which had been pinned upon her neatly braided hair, came loose and fell to the ground.
The man's gaze locked on her hair, his eyes widening as he muttered something under his breath in a foreign tongue.
”What's wrong?”
”Your hair. It is red and gold.”
”My hair's not red. It's blond and when the sun-” She frowned. ”Why am I even talking to you about this? I don't even know your name.”
”You haven't told me yours, either,” he said in a reasonable tone.
She hadn't, and for some reason she was loath to do so. She reached for her hat, wincing as she moved.
Instantly he pressed her back to the ground. ”Do not move. I shall call for my men and-”
”No, I don't need any help.”
”You should have had a groom with you,” he said, disapproval in his rich voice. ”Beautiful women should not wander the woods alone.”
Beautiful? Me? She flushed. It was odd, but the thought pleased her far more than it should have. Perhaps because she thought he was beautiful, as well.
”In my country you would not be riding about the woods without protection.”
”A groom wouldn't have kept my horse from becoming startled.”
”No, but it would have kept you from being importuned by a stranger.”
She had to smile at the irony of his words. ”A stranger like you?”
The stranger's brows rose. ”Ah. You think I am being-what is the word? Forward?”
”Yes.”
”But you are injured-”
”No, I'm not.”
”You were thrown from a horse and are upon the ground. I call that 'injured.' ” His brows locked together. ”Am I using the word 'injured' correctly?”