The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She puzzled over this for a minute, mentally dusting off the bard’s innumerable plays. Then her eyes widened and she declared, very much incensed, “It isn’t gallant of you to compare me to Shakespeare’s Kate. Furthermore, I did not like at all the way she ended up. Can you really imagine her falling at her husband’s feet and vowing that she lives only for him? It quite makes my stomach turn.”

“Being irreparably a male, I must confess that I don’t find the idea entirely repulsive.” He flicked Carrot’s rump with his riding crop, and both horses broke into a comfortable canter.

As they turned their horses into the country lane just beyond the park to Brandon Hall, he shot her a sideways glance. Much to his relief, her attention was drawn to the brilliant riot of leaves. She seemed not to have noticed that his comment to her had given away his amorous intentions, for which he was profoundly grateful.

He was painfully aware that it was far too soon for him to propose marriage to her. He was quite certain that when he entered the drawing room that morning that her eyes lit up at the sight of him, but he could not be sure that her obvious joy denoted a more serious sign of affection or merely relief at no longer being alone with Bleddoes. Just the day before, when they sat fishing on the soft grass beside St. Clair lake, she’d confided to him in her open, unaffected way, “It’s so very nice to have a friend. You know, someone you can feel perfectly at ease with and say whatever comes to mind without worrying that the other person will think less of you or become angry or bored.”

He didn’t say a word, and she’d continued, happy as a lark and just as oblivious, “You’re the only person that I can laugh with, save, of course, for Harry. But he’s different, of course. He’s only a brother, and alas, I am just a little sister.”

He had looked at her searchingly for a moment, hoping to see something more in her words. A friend . . . He was momentarily taken aback, but upon brief reflection he found, much to his own surprise, that she’d spoken the truth. Indeed, she was also his friend, an experience that he hadn’t known with a woman until now, with Kate.

“It’s a new experience for me as well,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “You see, I’ve never before met a woman with whom I didn’t have to . . .” He paused, biting his tongue, for he had been on the point of saying “offer absurd compliments in exchange for her favors.”

Kate, having no idea why he’d faltered, waited patiently for him to finish. Somehow she wanted very much for him to agree wholeheartedly with her.

He looked at her, and his mouth curved into a twisted grin. She was gazing at him expectantly, like a child waiting for a long-treasured treat. He said simply, “I’ve never met a woman who is so excellent a companion. You’re a treasure.”

Her eyes sparkled happily. She took his words at their face value and was quite pleased at his response. It didn’t occur to her that no other woman in the earl’s acquaintance would be too pleased to be called an “excellent companion.”

Now, as they rode for a time side by side in comfortable silence, each thinking private thoughts, Julien chanced to look up and gaze around him, unsure of where they were.

“Let’s go down this path, Kate,” he said, giving Astarte a gentle tug on her reins.

She nodded her agreement, and their horses continued in an easy canter for some time until they emerged in a small meadow, bordered on one side by a wooded copse. The full, lush green foliage gave Julien the inclination to spend some time exploring.

He dismounted and called to her, “Come, this is a lovely spot. Let’s commune with nature for a while, perhaps contemplate the glory of all those bees buzzing about those hydrangeas, and discuss Squire Bleddoes’s immense charm.”

It was several moments before he realized she hadn’t moved to dismount.