kick. It irked that his mere presence could affect her so. "I assume you have a good reason for depriving me of sleep in this manner."
His eyes twinkled. "I assure you, I have only the noblest of intentions."
"What intentions?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Obviously, she would need a great deal of patience to keep her end of their bargain. That, and a mild temper, both of which she knew did not come naturally to her. Stepping onto the mounting block, she swung up and accepted the reins from the groom. Robert mounted effortlessly, and then they were on their way.
A veil of gray still hung overhead, yet the countryside bustled with activity. Shouts of laughter and chatter echoed in the air as they rode through the verdant fields, passing dozens of young people gathering flowers and tree branches.
"What are they doing?"
"Bringing in the May," Robert said. "It's a grand spectacle. I assume you have not experienced it before."
"I haven't." By the first of May, her family had always been in London, where the celebrated day was never a grand event.
"May Day in Brigham is like no place else." A wry smile touched his face. "The villagers would not let anything as insignificant as changing times rob them of an excuse to make merry."
Georgie smiled involuntarily but turned to hide it. With a nudge of her heel, she urged the filly to a canter. Robert soon caught up, and they rode abreast across the fields and into the forest. The path narrowed as the trees grew thicker together, and Robert led the way when it constricted enough for only one to pass at a time.
He slowed to a stop beside a great oak tree and turned to her with an expectant look. In return, she eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"It is thought that to wash your face with dew on May Day morning will improve your complexion," he said with a faint smile. "I do not mind your freckles in the least, but since you seem to wish them gone, I thought you'd like to seize the opportunity."
Realization dawned. That, at least, was a custom of which she knew. She made a mocking sound. "And if you wish hard enough, you will find a husband within the year?"
"Precisely." He dismounted and tied his horse to the tree.
"It is nonsense." The filly shifted, seeming eager to be off again, and the leather reins squeaked within Georgie's gloves as she tightened her grip on them.
"It can hardly hurt, now, can it?" He reached out to help her down.
Warmth stirred in her as she eyed his outstretched hand, the intensity in his gaze. No wonder he had declared his intentions noble; he was trying to please her. She was surprised that he did not seem smug about it. Men usually were when they performed a service, and they always expected something in return.
"Come," he said.
The soft entreaty broke past her hesitation, and she accepted his assistance. When her feet were planted on the ground, he took the reins and tied them to the tree. "Mrs. Pease informed me that the dew from beneath an oak is supposed to work especially well. I didn't know she was a superstitious woman."
Georgie dropped to her knees. She drew off her glove and ran her hand through the grass. Little droplets of dew dampened her fingertips, and she lifted her hand to her face, but there she stopped and let her arm fall. "It's too silly."
"Silliness is no sin." Robert knelt beside her, tugging off his glove. His hand brushed the grass, then rose to her face. Instinct told her to shy away, but she froze, heart thumping, senses alert. His fingers felt rough against her skin as they ran over her nose and cheeks, bathing her with the fresh morning dew. Again and again, his hand dipped to the grass, and with each touch, she became more lightheaded, more breathless.
When her freckles had been thoroughly washed, he cupped her cheek. She leaned into his hand despite herself and closed her eyes. Before her mind's eye, she saw the Robert of her youth,
His eyes twinkled. "I assure you, I have only the noblest of intentions."
"What intentions?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Obviously, she would need a great deal of patience to keep her end of their bargain. That, and a mild temper, both of which she knew did not come naturally to her. Stepping onto the mounting block, she swung up and accepted the reins from the groom. Robert mounted effortlessly, and then they were on their way.
A veil of gray still hung overhead, yet the countryside bustled with activity. Shouts of laughter and chatter echoed in the air as they rode through the verdant fields, passing dozens of young people gathering flowers and tree branches.
"What are they doing?"
"Bringing in the May," Robert said. "It's a grand spectacle. I assume you have not experienced it before."
"I haven't." By the first of May, her family had always been in London, where the celebrated day was never a grand event.
"May Day in Brigham is like no place else." A wry smile touched his face. "The villagers would not let anything as insignificant as changing times rob them of an excuse to make merry."
Georgie smiled involuntarily but turned to hide it. With a nudge of her heel, she urged the filly to a canter. Robert soon caught up, and they rode abreast across the fields and into the forest. The path narrowed as the trees grew thicker together, and Robert led the way when it constricted enough for only one to pass at a time.
He slowed to a stop beside a great oak tree and turned to her with an expectant look. In return, she eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"It is thought that to wash your face with dew on May Day morning will improve your complexion," he said with a faint smile. "I do not mind your freckles in the least, but since you seem to wish them gone, I thought you'd like to seize the opportunity."
Realization dawned. That, at least, was a custom of which she knew. She made a mocking sound. "And if you wish hard enough, you will find a husband within the year?"
"Precisely." He dismounted and tied his horse to the tree.
"It is nonsense." The filly shifted, seeming eager to be off again, and the leather reins squeaked within Georgie's gloves as she tightened her grip on them.
"It can hardly hurt, now, can it?" He reached out to help her down.
Warmth stirred in her as she eyed his outstretched hand, the intensity in his gaze. No wonder he had declared his intentions noble; he was trying to please her. She was surprised that he did not seem smug about it. Men usually were when they performed a service, and they always expected something in return.
"Come," he said.
The soft entreaty broke past her hesitation, and she accepted his assistance. When her feet were planted on the ground, he took the reins and tied them to the tree. "Mrs. Pease informed me that the dew from beneath an oak is supposed to work especially well. I didn't know she was a superstitious woman."
Georgie dropped to her knees. She drew off her glove and ran her hand through the grass. Little droplets of dew dampened her fingertips, and she lifted her hand to her face, but there she stopped and let her arm fall. "It's too silly."
"Silliness is no sin." Robert knelt beside her, tugging off his glove. His hand brushed the grass, then rose to her face. Instinct told her to shy away, but she froze, heart thumping, senses alert. His fingers felt rough against her skin as they ran over her nose and cheeks, bathing her with the fresh morning dew. Again and again, his hand dipped to the grass, and with each touch, she became more lightheaded, more breathless.
When her freckles had been thoroughly washed, he cupped her cheek. She leaned into his hand despite herself and closed her eyes. Before her mind's eye, she saw the Robert of her youth,
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