One Touch of Magic Read Online Free Page B

preoccupied with his problem, for he said, “If you will permit me, Lady Iverson, my house is not far, and I would be happy to lend you my carriage to fetch your sister. Then I could return here with some of my men, and free your phaeton.”
    Sarah was tempted. Mary Ann would be waiting. And the chance to be with Lord Ransome a bit longer was also a most pleasant prospect. More extensive conversation with him would reveal that he was just a man, like any other, no doubt wrapped up in hunting and drinking and other such dull pursuits, with no appreciation for the beauties of history and culture. His good looks would have no charm for her, then.
    Then, too, she truly needed more time to examine her predicament, vis-à-vis Lord Ransome. Her fate, as it were.
    “The horses . . .” she began, glancing toward the pair. They stood there calmly, while the cool water lapped about their knees. Occasionally, they bent their elegant heads to take a drink, apparently enjoying the holiday.
    “It is not far to the house,” he assured her again. “They won’t be here very long.”
    “Very well,” Sarah agreed. “Thank you, Lord Ransome. You are most kind.”
    “Not at all, Lady Iverson. My reputation in the neighborhood would suffer grievously were I to leave a lady stranded out here!” He laughed, that warm, whiskey-dark sound that made Sarah want to laugh along with him, despite her plight.
    Her life had been devoid of laughter, true laughter, for so long.
    “Now, try to stand up, and I’ll pull you onto the horse,” he said, holding his hands out to her.
    Sarah balanced herself carefully on the carriage floor, and reached up for him. In one quick, smooth motion, he drew her up before him on his horse, so swiftly that she hardly realized what had happened until his arms came around her to adjust the reins. She straightened her legs along the side of the horse, and smoothed the cloth of her skirt down as far as it would go.
    She felt suddenly breathless, and uncomfortably warm. She sat forward, but Lord Ransome was still close at her back, his heat flowing through the very cloth of his coat and her gown to her skin. He smelled of sunshine and soap, and his chest when he brushed, ever so briefly, against her back was hard. She didn’t know if she could make it through even the short ride to Ransome Hall without breaking down into giggles, or something equally unseemly. She doubted her mind could focus on anything at the moment, not even on simple polite conversation.
    No man except her husband had ever been this close to her before, and John, as dear as he was, had never caused such confusion in her usually ordered mind.
    And that had to be the explanation, she told herself. This was simply a new experience for her, and the sensations would fade as soon as the novelty of it wore off.
    Somewhat reassured, Sarah smiled and leaned back, until she remembered that solid, warm chest behind her, and sat bolt upright again.
    “Mr. Benson tells me you are working on, er, digging up a Viking village,” he said, his voice rumbling pleasantly against her back.
    Sarah glanced back over her shoulder at him, surprised at the sound. Thus far, he had seemed content to ride along in silence, for which she was most grateful. It gave her time to get her thoughts together, so she could string words together in coherent sentences again.
    Fortunately, he had asked her about something she was always willing to talk about, even if he had described it in those odious words “digging up.”
    “Yes, indeed,” she answered. “My late husband was a well-known antiquarian, with a particular interest in the Vikings. When your uncle found some tools and coins on his property, he wrote to Sir John and we came here to explore further. It has proved to be a unique discovery; there is nothing else like it in all of England. Nothing yet found, that is. It is a complete village, probably dating from around the nine hundreds, with streets, houses, shops,