Free The Lady Mercy Danforthe Flirts With Scandal by Jayne Fresina Page A

hastily dampened her lower lip.
    “I mean to say, you are perfect for Molly,” she continued. “She’ll see that, and then she’ll come back.”
    Somehow his warriors regrouped, returning to formation, shields raised. “What if she doesn’t? What then, clever-drawers?”
    “If she does not come back, I’ll personally find you a bride.”
    His throat dry and hot, Rafe gulped down more water so fast that it spilled from the corners of his mouth and trickled over his rough stubble.
    “There, see.” She looked smug. “You shall not go without a bride, whatever happens. I will put everything straight, just as I promised.”
    He choked. “You’re going to find me a wife? You, Lady Bossy-Breeches, mean to play matchmaker for humble Rafe Hartley?”
    “There is nothing humble about you,” she replied drily.
    He held his cup to his chest and leaned back. “What makes you so concerned for my welfare?” He laughed low. “I suppose since you once ran away like a coward and now you talked Molly into doing the same, some might say you owe me a bride.” Now he teased her again. It was all too tempting, and his mood was much improved already. Perhaps it was the bright color of her frock. It was hard not to feel his heart cheered when the sun—in the guise of this little woman—came right into his cottage, filling it with light and warmth. Pity the sun, in this case, had to bring a lot of noise too.
    “Are you still in your cups, Hartley? I owe you nothing. I do this because I don’t care to be unjustly accused of meddling.”
    “You must be at loose ends, m’lady. I wish I was so in want of work to fill my days.” Rafe sighed deeply. “But the embarrassment of two runaway brides is quite enough for me. I’ll give marriage vows a miss from now on, if you don’t mind.”
    “Oh, the martyrdom.” She rolled her eyes. “Still playing for sympathy, I see.”
    “And you’re still as irritating as a fleabite.” One he was forbidden from scratching.
    “Well, I suggest you give it some thought. My matchmaking services are at your disposal, should Molly not return.” And then she added hurriedly, “Although I’m certain she will.”
    There was new experience in her face now, he realized, more knowledge and wit apparent in her eyes, intriguing depths in the shimmering layers of green that gently twinkled beneath her copper lashes. He’d never known another woman quite like her. Most women let Rafe get his own way. This one didn’t. He’d often thought she must enjoy the argument, because she always came back for more.
    If their marriage had stuck, he mused, they probably would have killed each other by now.
    As she stood before his window, soft morning light framing her curves, he was forced to acknowledge his first wife’s surface attractions. Didn’t mean he was happy about it. And yes, even if that marriage was void in the eyes of the law, he could think of her still as his first wife. They’d said their vows before God, hadn’t they? The laws of man only complicated things and were always changing. God never changed. God knew what He’d heard, just as He knew what was hidden in a man’s heart.
    Rafe set his cup down and cracked his knuckles. “Why don’t you go home?” he muttered under his breath. Her perfumed presence was more hindrance than help in his current overheated, frustrated mood.
    “This place needs a woman’s touch, and since no one else dare disturb your brooding isolation, you’ll have to make do with me. For now.” Before he could protest, she was removing her bonnet. “Perhaps you could see to the horses and the curricle? I’ll make a start on the fire.”
    Short of picking her up and bodily tossing her out, there was nothing he could do. She wasn’t leaving.
    “Just one thing I must know,” she said suddenly.
    He waited, scowling.
    “Are you quite certain this is what you want? This life of a farmer? You will not change your mind again?”
    “It’s what I always