A Shadow's Bliss by Patricia Veryan Page A

father’s guests had done this, she said with a tremulous smile, “I see I must sacrifice another kerchief. I seem to spend a good deal of my time tending your hurts.”
    Although he had allowed her to raise his head, his lashes were lowered and he still would not meet her eyes. He said expressionlessly, “You are very kind. But—but I can manage now. There is no need for—for you to stay.”
    â€œOh, none,” she responded, his humility only adding to her mortification. “I am very sure you would be happy to bleed all the way home. Dear me, this will not do. Perhaps I must form the habit of carrying one of my papa’s handkerchiefs with me if you will persist in your show of humble martyrdom!”
    At that his eyes opened wide, and a flood of colour lit his scratched and dirty face. “Show!” he exclaimed. “What could I have—”
    â€œOh, I know. I know.” Amazed that she should have made such a waspish remark, she flashed a repentant smile at him. “’Tis the very thing I said to Lord Green, is it not? That you dare not resist a peer of the realm. And, do you know, for a moment I was sure you meant to give him back his own.”
    A twinkle came into his eyes. “So was I.”
    â€œThank heaven you did not! Though I cannot help but marvel you were able to restrain yourself.”
    The twinkle faded. He muttered, “I have not the right to—to raise my hand ’gainst any man.”
    â€œOf course you have! ’Twould be folly were you to strike an aristocrat, of course, but—” She bit her lip, and knowing that had sounded patronizing, she added hastily, “Though I’d not be surprised to find that you’re as well born as Lord Green.”
    â€œA dubious distinction, madam.” The dry response was out before he could check it.
    Again, Jennifer had caught a glimpse of another man. She burst into laughter, her merriment warming his captive heart and bringing his slow smile into being.
    â€œOh, Jack,” she said breathlessly. “How he would rage if he’d heard us! Here,” she gave him the gory handkerchief, “this will help a little. Now— What are you about, sir?”
    He stood. “I must gather—gather my—”
    â€œYour wits!” She tugged at his sleeve pulling him back down again and sitting beside him. “You are scarce able to stand straight, and white as any sheet, and small wonder! When you have rested a little you shall ride Chanteuse as far as Triad, and—” Relieved to see his lips twitch at this prospect, she said laughingly, “Ah, you can still smile, thank goodness!”
    â€œI think ’twould make a quaint picture, ma’am, for me to ride sidesaddle, while you walked! A few minutes rest and I will be very well, I promise you. If you would be so—so very kind as to send someone here with my knapsack, I—”
    â€œI will be so very kind as to tell you to stop trying to be rid of me.”
    Be rid of her? He stared at her speechlessly. He ached from head to foot, his arm throbbed miserably, and he was crushingly tired, but to be near her, to be able to talk with her alone without shocked or disapproving glances, was joy beyond measure.
    He had, decided Jennifer, what Caro Morris would term “speaking eyes.” She said firmly, “Oh, you may stare, but I know very well that the instant I go away you will start bustling about, pretending to be some mythical being, above such mortal things as pain and exhaustion.”
    â€œLord Green was evidently able to overcome such weaknesses.”
    â€œLord Green is twice your size and has never known what it is to go hungry, much less practically starve for—for heaven only knows how long! Besides which, all he had to do was hang onto a rock until he was rescued. A far cry from what you very bravely achieved. Now, sir, although I am very willing to sit and make sure