The Legend of Lyon Redmond by Julie Anne Long Page B

normal conversational voice, not a constrained hush. To laugh out loud. To savor his presence without looking over her shoulder or anywhere else but at him.
    Which reminded her she really ought to look over her shoulder.
    If anyone in her family had yet noticed she was missing from their milling little throng, they hadn’t thought to look down yet. Thankfully her brothers were all very tall, and the ground wouldn’t be the first place they looked for their missing sister.
    She half wondered if Lyon Redmond had thought of this, too, when he’d told her to drop her prayer book.
    She was very clever, a quicksilver, incisive sort of clever. But she had the suspicion that Mr. Redmond was one step ahead of her.
    It irritated her, even as she liked it very much.
    â€œMr. Redmond . . .” she said finally.
    â€œLyon,” he corrected on an almost irritable, impatient hush, as if he’d done it dozens of times before. As if they hadn’t enough time for two words when one could do.
    â€œLyon,” she repeated gently, as if he’d given her a little treasure.
    He smiled at her as if she’d just knighted him.
    A fraught few seconds during which they locked eyes, and the milling legs of departing churchgoersbegan to thin and they would be exposed crouching face to face on the ground outside the churchyard.
    â€œI will bring a basket of food to the Duffys on Tuesday afternoon,” she whispered in a rush. “About two o’clock. I’ll be alone.”
    â€œWouldn’t it be a coincidence if we met on the road going south?”
    â€œIt would at that,” she agreed breathlessly, then launched herself to her feet, and whipped about and walked away from him without saying another word.
    It was all she could do not to leap up and click her heels as she hurried back to her family.
    â€œI dropped my prayer book,” she explained, though thankfully her family looked mildly puzzled by this announcement, as no one had really noticed she was gone. “It just leaped from my hands. It’s my favorite book. I should hate to lose it. By dropping it.”
    â€œI think our Olivia just had a religious epiphany. She’s glowing like a lamp.” This came from Chase, who was studying her oddly. Though that could be because she was babbling about her prayer book.
    â€œHow could she have an epiphany after that service, when I could swear the vicar dozed off for a second or two while he was speaking? And if he can sleep during the service, why can’t I?”
    Colin presented this logic to his mother, who snorted and looped her arm through his, as if this alone could rein in her irrepressible son and prevent him from climbing the trellises of married countesses.
    â€œWe are Church of England, daughter mine, and we do own the living, as you know, so please don’t entertain any ideas of becoming a nun,” her father said dryly, and looped his arm in hers.
    â€œOlivia would annoy all the other nuns. She’d have to be the best nun,” Ian teased.
    She laughed, even though it was absolutely true: she quite loved winning. But she was prepared to find everything funny and beautiful at the moment and she would not look back she would not she would not she would not to see if Lyon Redmond was watching her.
    Genevieve was walking ahead of them, and glanced at Olivia over her shoulder. “I don’t think those are the ideas she’s entertain— OW! ”
    Olivia stepped on the back of her sister’s shoe and pulled it off. “I’m so sorry, Genevieve! Clumsy me.”
    Genevieve shot her an aggrieved look and Olivia returned it with a daggerlike one.
    â€œCome here, my love, where you cannot be stepped upon by your sister,” her father commanded, teasing both of them.
    Genevieve skipped backward and took his other arm.
    A fortnight ago, this was the definition of perfect happiness for Olivia. A beautiful spring day, tiny purple wildflowers