The Wedding Wager. Deborah Hale
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high, breathless voice.
Dickon pushed the door ajar and peeked in. “Pardon me, miss, but you did give orders I was to knock if you and Sergeant Archer hadn’t come to breakfast by nine.”
Had she said that? Leonora’s thoughts whirled so that she could not swear to it.
“Thank you.” Her words came in little gasps. “We’ll be along in a moment.”
Morse rose from his chair and stretched. The way his muscles bunched under the tight fabric of his breeches made Leonora’s mouth go dry. There were so many things she didn’t know about men. And until this week, she hadn’t cared to find out. Now her freshly whetted curiosity knew no bounds.
“I think you could do with a good plate of breakfast and a strong cup of tea.” Morse cast her a solicitous look. “You don’t seem quite yourself this morning.”
It was all Leonora could do to keep from agreeing vocally.
She wasn’t herself. At least not the self she had shown the world for the past two decades.
Morse Archer’s obvious interest in her, and her curiosity about him, had kindled some long-quiescent ember of whimsy and excitement within her. Suddenly she was most anxious to see where it might take her.
Acting on a daring impulse, she reached for Morse’s arm. “I am feeling a trifle light-headed.” No lie, that. “Will you be so kind as to steady me on our way to breakfast?”
Her request appeared to catch him off guard. “I—don’t see why not,” he sputtered.
“We must make an effort to polish your social graces, Sergeant. The polite reply to a lady would have been, ‘I’d be honored, miss.’”
An embarrassed grin made him look endearingly boyish. “I am honored, Miss Leonora. Happy to be of service.”
She laughed. For the first time in how long? “You’re a quick student when you choose to be, Morse.”
The intimacy of his Christian name was out of her mouth before she realized it. The word felt very much at home on her tongue.
For a wonder, he politely refrained from comment, pulling out her chair from the breakfast table and making sure she was well settled before taking the seat opposite her.
Morse tucked into breakfast with his usual relish. Scarcely a wonder after the poor food he must have suffered during his days as a soldier. For her part, Leonora could not summon up much appetite.
Perhaps the odd sensations she was experiencing were only the symptoms of some malady, after all.
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