Page 51 of Waking Roslyn

“Oh, this?” Rose fumbled with her book.

I turned away to hide my grin and kept walking. I was just a groundskeeper, nothing more.

“It’s, um…” Rose paused.

I glanced back just in time to see her look at the book’s spine before reciting the title to her cousin.

Yes. Miss Rose was far too good for my ego.

Roslyn

I’d been thoroughly caught, but it wasn’t as if I’d woken up this morning determined to ogle John. It had just…happened. The more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend together, but seeking him out for reasons other than training seemed ill-advised, which was how I’d found myself picking up a book from the library and wandering out to the back garden. When I’d looked out one of the back windows, I had caught sight of him and was immediately captivated. His loose shirt billowed in the breeze, and a rag was tucked into the back of his trousers for reasons that I could not guess. He had dropped several tools at the base of a tree before grabbing hold of a couple branches and pulling himself into it. The way he moved with such strength and confidence as he scaled the trunk prompted me to take myself outdoors. I’d had every intention of actually reading, but the entertainment of watching him work had been so much more compelling than whatever story I’d grabbed.

The Seafarer’s Might. That was the name of the book, and I told Lisette as much, right after I read it off the spine.

“Is it any good?” she asked from above me.

“Oh.” I stood, deciding that it was time to go inside and away from John and his masculine virility. “I haven’t gotten very far into it,” I confessed as I quickly found the stairs and climbed them to join Lisette.

I had been staring at him. He’d looked at me and smiled, and I hadn’t been able to look away. Saints, what would he think of me?

When I joined Lisette, I hooked my arm around hers. “Did you need me for something?” I asked as I tugged her inside.

“Nothing in particular,” she said as a footman shut the door behind us. “Dearest,” she said, looking over at me as we walked down the corridor, “you weren’t actually reading, were you?”

The heat rose to my cheeks and I fought to will it away. I brushed at some invisible dirt on my skirt. “I may have been…a little distracted.”

“A little distracted?”

“Yes.” It was hard enough to admit as much without her looking at me like she knew I was a little strumpet who had been ogling the groundskeeper.

“By the large fellow, perhaps?”

I brushed at my skirt some more. “Perhaps,” I said tightly. “Does he always look so…capable when he works?”

“I honestly couldn’t say.”

“Of course not.” She was married after all, and probably older than John, and certainly less of a ninny than I was.

When I looked up, Lisette’s eyes were sparkling with amusement, but then her brow furrowed. “You do remember why you are here, don’t you?”

I snorted. “How could I forget?”

“No. I mean, your father fell in love with—”

“Stop,” I said, halting our progress and turning to look at her. “Please, please do not lecture me about who I am allowed to love.”

“But—”

“Am I supposed to regret my own existence?”

She looked startled by that idea. “Of course not.”

“My life is challenging. I am perfectly aware that due to my parents’ circumstances, it is an utter disaster at the moment, not to mention dangerous. But life is dangerous. And everyone is a disaster in their own way. Your marriage isn’t exactly the stuff of dreams.”

Sharp hurt contorted her features, and I felt awful.

I slapped a hand over my mouth and shook my head, shocked by my own words. “I’m sorry, Lisette. That was terrible of me. I didn’t mean—”