Free In the Garden of Disgrace by Cynthia Wicklund Page B

the man and was
infuriated with herself for being unable to control the feeling.
The one thing Jillian had determined long ago was never again to be
out of control. She would stifle that feeling or be dead
trying.
    “Something has occurred to me,” Lord Wickham
said.
    “Yes?” Her answer was curt as she continued
to calm her heightened emotions.
    “We forgot the bait.” She turned to look at
him and he put up his hands. “And don’t tell me I must wiggle my
toes in the water to attract the fish. I warn you I did not take
your threat of using me for bait seriously.”
    “We’ll dig for earthworms, my lord. Are you
certain you’ve been fishing before?”
    “I hear the disparagement in your voice,
Lady Jillian, and I really must protest. Did you bring a
shovel?”
    “For heaven’s sake, the ground is soft, and
since it’s still dark the worms have not retreated yet. It should
take little effort to capture enough to keep us fishing for hours.
We’ll use sticks. That is what I always do.”
    “You did say you like to dig in the
dirt.”
    Jillian sensed his amusement but ignored the
remark, hoping that if she did not react to his teasing he would
grow tired of the game. Instead, she began to search at her feet
for the stick she had mentioned.
    “Aha! This is perfect,” she said, holding up
a sturdy specimen.
    She left the earl to find his own tool and
moved to the embankment where the earth was rich with humus and she
knew the worms were plentiful. She worked silently, capturing
several before realizing she had nothing to put them in. It took
her only a moment to come up with a solution. She whipped off the
straw hat she wore and dumped her booty into it.
    Dawn was fast arriving, and Jillian glanced
up at that moment to see the earl staring at her with a quizzical
expression.
    “Have you caught anything, my lord?” she
asked loftily. “You’re welcome to share my hat if you like.”
    He chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’ll need my
help baiting your hook. I gather all those years I spent becoming
proficient at chivalry are wasted on a self-sufficient female like
you.
    Jillian did not bother to answer him. She
stood from her kneeling position and dusted off her skirt then
moved to where the fishing poles lay on the ground. The earl
continued to watch her, she knew, but she pretended to be absorbed
by the process of putting a fat worm on her hook and tossing her
line in the stream. She sat on the grassy slope and prepared to
wait.
    Lord Wickham followed her lead. Jillian
observed him surreptitiously from the edge of her eye as he baited
his own hook and, with spare efficiency, flung his line into the
water. The fluid movement reminded her of a night when he had flung
a knife into a man’s chest.
    He sat next to her—too close, she
thought—and stretched his lean frame out on the embankment. He came
up on his elbow while holding his pole loosely in both hands.
Neither spoke, thus the only sound disturbing the silence was the
soft gurgle of the stream as it flowed languidly by them. Shortly
thereafter the rising sun brought the songs of the various forest
birds.
    “Tell me,” the earl said at last, although
he continued to watch his line, “why is it so important to you to
ride your horse without a saddle?”
    “I think it is the best way to enjoy
riding.”
    “You are not bothered by the gossip?”
    Jillian glared at him. “Gossip is the lowest
form of human exchange,” she said tightly. “I’ve endured much over
the years. At some point one cease to care.”
    “But you seem to court the talk.”
    “Are you questioning my motives?”
    Lord Wickham shook his head. “No, I don’t
know you well enough. I will say, though, rebellion for rebellion’s
sake is not worthy of the pain you’ve suffered.”
    She looked at him again, this time wondering
if perhaps he did understand. Suddenly Jillian wanted to
explain.
    “I love to ride, my lord. Sometimes I take
Raven out in the middle of the night and