The Legend of Lyon Redmond by Julie Anne Long Page A

whispered this to Ian, nudging him.
    Olivia followed the direction of Colin’s chin nudge.
    And she froze.
    The shoulders were unmistakable. And when he turned, just a little, to speak to his mother, that profile made her breathing go jagged.
    Her heart shot skyward like a bird released from a cage.
    It seemed insanity now that there had been a small part of her that had wished him away, becausethat would simply be easier. It was so very clear that everything was better when he was near.
    Olivia didn’t hear a word of the sermon, but anyone watching her would have thought she found the vicar’s message transcendent, so unblinkingly rapt and aglow was she. She’d never been happier to be wearing the blue striped muslin and the bonnet with the blue ribbons, because everyone said it was the precise color of her eyes.
    And that familiar sound of dozens of people at once, shaking out crushed skirts, waiting for old limbs to thaw or creak into motion, and the crowd moved en masse out of church, slowly, pausing to mill and exchange greetings.
    She had just shuffled with the crowd to the edge at the churchyard fence, and she paused to look up, her heart hammering. The trees surrounding the church had leafed almost overnight in a joyous explosion of green.
    Suddenly a voice was in her ear.
    â€œDrop your prayer book.”
    She instantly did just that.
    She and Lyon Redmond both simultaneously then dropped to a crouch. Anyone observing would have thought he’d simply solicitously stopped to pick the book up for her. The Redmonds had exquisite breeding, after all.
    â€œI waited two hours ,” he said on a whispered rush. It was both faintly accusatory and awestruck. And a little amused.
    She bit her lip. He was so handsome she literally ached . As if all of her senses were flooded with him.
    â€œI do not like to be told what to do. Especially if I’m being told to lie. I never lie.”
    â€œNever?” He was so genuinely astonished that she couldn’t help but smile.
    â€œWell, I’m bad at it. And one ought to have a code, after all.”
    â€œI agree. One ought to,” he agreed, somberly.
    But his eyes were dancing.
    She tried and failed not to smile.
    â€œI do apologize, Miss Eversea. I see now that I assumed too much. For instance, I assumed you might wish to speak to me again. Do you?”
    Clever, clever wicked man to demand an answer in a way she couldn’t dodge. Because she’d just self-righteously announced she never lied.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œShall I come to call?” He said this evenly. But impatiently, as they could not crouch here forever.
    Their eyes locked.
    God only knew how the Everseas were discussed in his household.
    He’d made his point without saying another word, and furthermore, he knew she understood.
    She was aware of the hum of cheerful voices, a child shrieking in what sounded like mad joy, because it had been released from the purgatory of sitting still on a hard pew while a man in a long dress droned on and on.
    It was a very peculiar view she had at the moment, a word comprised only of skirt hems and boot toes and Lyon’s blue, blue eyes.
    â€œYou should know that I don’t make a habit of lying, either, Miss Eversea. I apologize if the note caused offense. I merely thought the gentlemanly thing to do would be to arrive at a plan that would allow us to see each other again, and then present it to you. Because I wanted to see you again, and my code is to get what I want.”
    It was so thrillingly arrogant her heart all but keeled over in a hard swoon.
    â€œIt was very efficient of you,” she admitted. “Well done.”
    He shook his head slightly, as if she were a delight, lips pressed together, eyes sparkling, and she smiled at him, grateful her bonnet disguised her flushed cheeks from the rest of the world.
    What a joy it would be to speak with him endlessly, because somehow she knew that she could. To use a