Laurel felt her face suffuse with heat. “Who’s the doctor here? You two brats or Uncle George?” She truly wished Daisy were here, not only to chase the snoopy twins away. She needed to talk to Daisy in private, but it wasn’t possible while everyone was about. She sighed, deciding there was nothing to be done about it now. She wasn’t about to send Daisy to Hyde Park on her own to deliver a message to Devlin Kirwood. She would simply have to seek out Devlin at Lady Harrow’s musicale this evening and apologize for not meeting him today.
He would understand and forgive her once she explained.
Laurel gave no further thought to Devlin, for she felt the subtle undulation of hard muscle beneath her palms and knew Lord Moray was trying to sit up. Goodness! She’d forgotten she still held him.
The twins were still beside her, inspecting him as though he were an archeological treasure. He squinted a little as the sun glinted through the leaves of the towering oak under which they were settled. “Am I mistaken or do you two really look that much alike?”
“No one can tell us apart,” Dillie said with a chuckle. “Lily and I confuse everyone, even our parents.”
He shook his head. “Heaven help the poor bachelors when you come out in society.”
Lily smiled. “Assuming Laurel hasn’t killed them all off by then.”
“Don’t jest about it, Lily.” She tried to keep her voice from trembling, but knew she’d failed. Her eyes began to tear again. “I almost did kill him. It was a very close thing.”
Lord Moray shifted slightly to gaze up at her. “Lass,” he said with aching gentleness, “I’m a big oaf. It’ll take more than an angry horse to put me in my grave.”
Laurel’s heart leapt into her throat. He had the handsomest smile and dark green eyes that could lead a girl to mischief with very little provocation. Of course, she wouldn’t be that girl. She was loyal to Devlin Kirwood. “Our eldest sister, Rose, married last year,” she began to prattle, for his smile was doing odd things to her. In a nice, but confusing, way. “Her husband is Lord Julian Emory.”
Lord Graelem nodded. “I know him. Good man.”
She liked the way the sun warmed the chestnut color of his hair.
“Done, my lord,” her uncle said, regaining their attention. “Don’t try to get up on your own just yet. We’ll summon help.”
Dillie was sent off to call for Eloise’s footmen.
It took only a moment for Lord Moray to grow impatient and attempt once again to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Laurel immediately positioned her body against his back to catch him if he started to fall, for he’d been hurt enough for one day. Indeed, hurt enough for a lifetime, as far as she was concerned.
Lily rolled her eyes and began to jabber about linear planes and angles and some nonsense about gravitational thrust, which Laurel would have dismissed had she not found herself suddenly pinned between the trunk of the oak tree and Lord Moray, whose back was unwittingly pressed against her chest.
Her uncle groaned in exasperation. “Laurel, what are you trying to accomplish? You can’t lift him up on your own.”
“But I only meant to—” Realizing she was only making matters worse, she tried to slip out from under him. Her breasts accidentally rubbed against his shoulder.
“Lass!” Lord Moray said. “You’d better... blessed Scottish saints... er, just don’t move. I’ll roll out of your way.”
She nibbled her lip and tried to hold back the tears threatening to well in her eyes, for he sounded so pained and his gaze was now turbulent and fiery. The blaze in his eyes could only signify anger. “I only meant to help.”
“I think you’ve helped me quite enough for one day.” He fell back as she moved away, knocking his head against the trunk of the oak tree with a soft thuck. “Quite enough.”
She placed a hand on his arm to help, but received another fiery glance for her attempt. “Lass, it isn’t necessary. My grandmother’s footmen will help me to my chamber.”
She nodded, feeling worse for causing him yet more discomfort. “Please, let me do something to make it up to you.”
“No—”
“But I don’t mind at all.” Her tears had held off, but no longer. She let out a sniffle. “Just tell me what I can do for you—”
“Lass, it isn’t necessary.” His gaze was a dangerous smolder that seemed to intensify each time she tried to touch him.
The tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Anything. You have only to ask and I’ll do it. You have my promise.”