For the Love of a Pirate by Edith Layton

weird sort of way, she looked like a deliciously attractive . . . young boy. The thought unsettled him. Although, looking closer, he could see she looked nothing like a boy. That didn’t settle his nerves at all. She looked too damned tempting. And utterly unaware of it.
    He supposed there was a reason it was amusing to see men in women’s clothing, in pantomimes and at the theater. Because they looked foolish in them. Females, he realized, didn’t look amusing in men’s clothing. At least, this one didn’t. She looked incredibly more like a woman, curved and supple, and for all her lack of height, perfectly proportioned. Constantine was shocked and titillated, and didn’t know where to look. He knew where he wanted to look. But, of course, he couldn’t.
    â€œNow, wasn’t I right?” Miss Lovelace’s voice said, from where she sat at the table, spooning up her porridge. “You’ve gone and scandalized the gent, Lizzie, my love. Best hop upstairs and put on a gown. He’s proper as can be, and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to make of you. Lord Wylde may keep country hours, but he clearly isn’t used to country ways.”
    â€œOh, Lord Wylde,” Lisabeth said, with a mischievous pout. “Never say you want me to put on a gown this morning? I assure you no one will see us who hasn’t seen me this way many times before. Happens I have a fine riding habit, all amber velvet; it’s a treat to see and cost the earth. But where’s the sense in putting it on if we’re going to go down dusty roads, and maybe even get caught in a sudden squall, as happens so often hereabouts? The habit would be ruined. After our ride, I’d come home smelling of horse, and covered with mud. But that won’t matter if I’m wearing old clothes, made for rough use.
    â€œUnless,” she added, with a sly look under her lashes, “you actually are interested in honoring our fathers’ bargain? Then, of course, I could see that you’d want everyone in the village to notice we’re keeping company. After all, I suppose you want to see the village, the church, the inn, and such, don’t you? If you’re dressed as you are, and suddenly I’m all tarted up like a Christmas goose to go with you, everyone will suspect something’s in the wind . . . But this is so sudden.”
    She placed a hand on her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. She also looked as if she might burst out laughing.
    He was at a loss for words.
    â€œI didn’t think so,” she said. “So, what say you, sir? You look fine as fivepence, by the way. No one here dresses like that unless there’s a funeral . . . or a wedding.” She grinned at him.
    â€œI say,” he said carefully, “that you should wear whatever you wish. Are those fresh-baked biscuits I spy? They smell delicious.”
    She smiled. “Yes. Let’s eat, and then go delight the villagers.”
    He nodded, and hid his apprehension. He wanted to meet the locals, of course, and find out if any of them knew anything about him or his history. That was of paramount importance. This woman would keep her silence. He could tell she had pride as well as spirit. Still, even though she said she didn’t want him, there was that odd moment last night to consider. What had she wanted? But he believed her given word.
    Even so, no woman would be thrilled to let the world know he’d been offered her hand and turned it down. Although, he thought moodily, she might be thrilled to let them know she’d turned him down. What he had to do, he decided, as he put a hot biscuit on his plate, was try to turn her up sweet without making her like him too much, or too little.
    â€œAnd where’s the captain this morning?” Constantine asked a while later, after they’d had their breakfast and were walking to the stables.
    â€œGrandy’s out on his