Chapter 3
Three
TILLY
“Before I put my shoe back on,” she fumbled with the shoe and scrambled to say, “I need to clean the horse sh—”
Whoosh! Tilly was up in Leland’s arms, cradled against his muscular chest. Her fake fiancé? How could she argue with that? The plan had all the elements of protection that she needed.
She told herself not to, but she desperately tried to make out his heartbeat. To no avail, as his voice rumbled through her instead, “Never mind. We’ll come back for your shoe later. Or maybe never. For now, we’re heading back to the house to tell Wilhem and Etta the good news.”
“How are we going to tell them, Leland?” Tilly asked, feeling his biceps flex as he shifted her weight.
There was no use fighting his plan. The same way he had doggedly pursued her for an answer would be the same determination with which he’d commit to seeing this through.
And really, time was running out because Friedrich could show up at any minute if he was earnest enough.
With a grunt, he commanded, “Put your arms around me.” And after her dubious look, he added, “It’s better for my center of gravity.”
“Fine.” She swung her arms up and looped them around the back of his head, careful not to let her fingers drift into the strands at the base of his neck. “About my question?”
“We just tell them, Tilly. Nothing more. Nothing less.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it surprised her, but still, it wasn’t enough of a plan to go on. This was her future after all.
“And you think that they’re both magically going to believe it?”
“Stop wriggling. Just…sit still.” He tightened his grip around her making it nearly impossible for her to move about. Which was both a delicious feeling, and also…not good for her headspace. This was fake, she reminded herself. The fakeness has already begun. Fake. Fake. Fake.
“What are we even going to tell them?”
“Apparently not the truth. At least, not the full truth of the impending scandal.”
“As close to the truth as we can make it without admitting my complete and utter failure.” She nodded firmly in resolve. Only…her nodding rubbed against his chest…which felt an awful lot like nuzzling. Exactly the wrong thing to do with Leland.
“Stop that.”
“This?” She nuzzled more intentionally to provoke him.
“Yes.” Adjusting his grip, he squeezed her gently in the ribs releasing a peel of laughter from her. When she kicked up, she thought he’d drop her for sure, so on impulse she yanked harder around his neck.
“I’ve got you,” he soothed. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”
And she believed him. The blasted man. She knew she could thrust him. Knew he was consistent. Reliable. Stalwart. If nothing else, the man was a rock.
Only…when he said those reassuring words, he happened to be whispering them right into her ear at such close proximity she could feel his warm breath down to her soul.
“Well, that’s good to know,” she managed to say. Breathlessly. Awkwardly.
A moment of silence passed between them where he just stared at her with a deeply etched frown on his face. For a moment, she imagined erasing that frown with the pad of her thumb. Or her lips—
Then, his feet moved at such a clipped pace they practically ate up the grass as they moved.
“We’ll just tell them that I’ve been secretly in love with you and now that Wilhem’s dating my sister, I’m counting on him not overreacting to me dating his sister. And that’s it.”
Swallowing the unidentifiable lump in her throat, Tilly spoke to the hollow at the base of his neck. “How long?”
“How long, what?” Leland asked gruffly.
“How long have you been secretly in love with me?”
His footsteps stopped and his eyes locked on hers.
Tilly cleared that pesky lump again. “I mean, for the story? It should sound real, so details would be best.”
And was it her imagination, or did his voice sound unnaturally husky. “Since the first moment I met you.” But then whatever moment she had imagined was over when he jolted her to restart their journey. “Is that good enough?”
She ducked her chin to her chest, hiding her grin. “It’ll do.”
“It had better. Now, what’s your story? What will you say to them?”
With a light playfulness in her heart, she replied, “I’ll tell them that I rejected your offer a few times in secret over the years but finally realized what I was missing while I was in France.”
Leland grunted. “Why on earth would you have rejected my offers?”
“Despite your discreet nature, you’re a known rake, Leland. You’re an anomaly, though. You’ve been with countless women but you’ve been so respectable about it that no one faults you. It’s utterly ridiculous.”
He stifled a laugh, and when she peeked up at him, she could see the side of his kissable lips curling up.
“What’s so funny about that?” She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but instead, tugged at a small piece of his hair.
Drat. She shouldn’t have done that. It was so soft it basically slipped through her fingers.
Besides, she had intended for him to say ow, or at least show he was irritably affected. He did nothing, the odious man.
“It’s funny because you came to me asking for lessons, so I must not be utterly ridiculous. As you so politely put it.”
“A person can be utterly ridiculous and useful at the same time.”
“Only a cow can be utterly ridiculous.”
“What? Was that a joke, Leland?”
His grunt confirmed it.
“My, my. I didn’t know you still had it in you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He kept his eyes on the pathway leading back to the house. They were nearly there, and she was grateful for that. Mostly.
“It means that you’ve become…starchy…in your old age.”
“Now wait—”
“Do keep walking, please. I’d like to be on my own two feet sooner rather than later.”
“First of all—”
“Take a step, if you will,” she taunted in a singsong voice.
When he acquiesced, it was with a grumble and tight squeeze. Neither of which she minded.
“First of all, I’m not old. And second of all, I’m not starchy.”
“If you say so, Leland. Ah…now that we’ve reached the house, you can put me down.”
“I think not.” He marched right into the house, almost as if on a rampage. “Wilhem!” he shouted. “Etta!”
Oh. This was not good.
He bellowed again and just kept right on storming around in his own house.
“What is it, Leland?” Etta asked breathlessly upon entering the parlor. Wilhem was not too far behind her. Suspiciously, he was equally breathless.
“Wilhem, I’m courting your sister. We’re to be married.” Well. There was the grand announcement. Somehow she felt it should have been more grandiose. Lights. Candles. Flowers of some kind. But, no. Just words spilled out into the air for her best friend and her brother to pick up.
Not missing a beat, Wilhem challenged him, “You’re not going to ask my permission?”
“Did you ask for mine?”
“Point well made.” Wilhem scratched at his jaw with a smug smile. “May I ask—”
“No, you may not.” And with that, Leland dumped Tilly to the floor, wearing one shoe. Which everyone happened to notice at the exact same moment. “All will be explained at dinner tonight.”
He canted his head to the shoeless foot, dusted himself off, and quit the room, leaving a stunned Tilly to face her brother.
“Well,” Wilhem commented, walking toward her and giving her a brotherly clamped palm on the shoulder, “it’s about damn time.”