Chapter 7 #3
He flexed his knee and looked a bit bemused. “Oddly enough, it doesn’t. It’s a trifle stiff, but the pain seems to have disappeared.” His gaze angled down to her rumpled skirts. “And what of you, Lady Kyra? You, too, pushed yourself very hard, and must be hurting.”
Good heavens, she hadn’t given her bad leg a thought.
In truth, for the first time since the accident, she felt something akin to her old self. The bustling thrum of the market, the cheerful banter with the vendors, the spark of passion roused by the injured dog’s plight—it had all drawn her out of her lethargy and made her feel alive again.
Passion. The recollection of her impulsive kiss made her shift uncomfortably on the seat.
“I am suffering no ill effects from my physical exertions,” said Kyra carefully. “Indeed, all the expensive experts Papa has consulted would likely say it was beneficial for my health.”
“Bueno,” he began.
“But,” she interrupted, “I fear all the running may have momentarily jumbled my wits.” A pause as she pondered just how to apologize for throwing herself at him. “I hope you will forgive my unseemly display of emotion in the alleyway. I was so happy about Hero.”
It seemed to take several long, drawn-out moments for him to piece together her meaning. His reply, when it finally came, was far less oblique.
“Are you perchance apologizing for kissing me?”
“Well, yes, that was the general idea,” she admitted. Another pause. “Though it was more of an embrace than a kiss.”
“An embrace?” His brows waggled up a notch. “No, no—I have experienced both, and it was definitely a kiss.”
“You were distracted. By the dog.”
Hero started to squirm in his lap. “True. But be assured that even had I been distracted by a Bengal tiger or a dancing bear, I would not have mistaken a kiss for an embrace.”
That she found bantering with him so enjoyable made her feel even more guilty. “Then the mistake is all mine,” she said tightly. “I have somehow given you the wrong impression. So again, I am offering you my apology.”
“None is necessary. I was simply teasing, but I see that I’ve upset you. Please?—”
“I am not upset,” she said quickly. “I am merely fatigued.”
“Understandably so.” Rafael unwrapped the muffins and held one out as a peace offering of sorts. “We both have been run a little ragged by our four-footed amigo. Perhaps a bit of sustenance would help restore our strength.”
Hero sniffed the air and let out a little whine.
“Not you, imp,” he scolded. “You’ve already eaten enough for a regiment of the King’s Hussars.” To Kyra he added, “Any more, and I fear an unfortunate accident might befoul your Father’s pristine carriage.”
His words signaled a tactful end to the awkward interlude. Relieved, she quickly responded, “Quite right—Hero can’t possibly be famished, but I am. And those muffins smell divine.”
The talk turned to cooking and Rafael’s mellifluous voice was calming, the mellow tones softened even more by the dark wood paneling and flickering carriage lamp.
As he chatted on at great length about the recipes he had recently translated and which ones he intended to try with his purchases from the market, Kyra nibbled at her sultana-studded pastry, feeling the knot in her stomach slowly loosen.
“You must be sure to tell me how your creations turn out,” she said, as he paused to take a bite of his muffin.
“Oh, but I am hoping you will agree to come sample them with me,” he replied. “I have promised to accompany Uncle Aubrey to Newmarket on the morrow, to help him purchase a pair of hunters for the stables. We shall be gone for five or six days, but when I return, I shall set to work.”
“That would be lovely. Your grandmother’s chocolate recipes are too tempting a treat to resist.”
“Excellent!” He tickled a sleepy Hero under his whiskered chin. “Sweets are not good for dogs, but I shall have some nice meaty bones for you.”
A short while later, the carriage crested a hill and turned up the sloping drive of Hendrie Hall. Rafael settled the dog in Kyra’s lap, then reached for the door latch as the wheels slowed to halt by the main portico.
“Thank you for a memorable experience,” she said as he prepared to descend the iron rungs.
He looked back and grinned, the lingering streak of mud on his left cheek giving his face a lopsided cant. “Our Grand Tour of the market took a few unexpected twists and turns. But sometimes the unexpected adds a certain spice to life.”
Or a certain pinch of painful regret. She had never expected to regain an appetite for life. She had never expected to feel the rekindling of love in the ashes of her heart.
If only . . .
Looking down at the dozing dog, Kyra nodded. “So it does,” she said, trying hard to match the lightness of his tone. He must never guess at her true feelings. His kindness was hard enough to bear. His pity would be intolerable.
“Safe travels, sir,” she went on. “And when you return, I look forward to seeing what magic you create in the kitchen with your spices and sugar—and your cacao, of course.”
No matter that bitter taste of her past folly would always rise up to spoil the sweetness.