Free Courting the Countess by Barbara Pierce Page A

the unbidden thought, she deliberately slowed her pace. There was no reason to give Mr. Claeg any encouragement. Spending a few hours with him each day was already giving him ideas.

    “Caught you!”
    Mr. Claeg encircled her waist and spun her around until she laughed. “I thought you had forgotten me,” he whispered in her ear, making her shudder. He kissed the side of her neck and released her.
    “Not likely,” she said, untying the bow under her chin. “Tell me that you were not on your way to the house.” Removing her bonnet, she let it dangle at her back while she retied the ribbons.
    “Is there a reason why I cannot pay my neighbor a visit?” he gruffly demanded.
    Did he want a list? There was May, who wanted him. Ham despised him. Her sisters and mother adored him. Mr. Ludlow did not trust him, and the dowager considered him unworthy of her exalted presence. As for herself, she was uncomfortably aware that each day she was looking forward to his companionship. Trouble? “None at all,” she lied.
    He gave her an odd look. She started breathing again when he took her hand, saying, “Come along, Countess. I set everything up while I waited for you.”
    Hand in hand they ran through the woods like children on an adventure. Mr. Claeg had replaced the quiet of her walks with discovery, humor, and color. His enthusiasm for reveling in his surroundings was contagious. She had haunted these woods for almost two years, but it was with him that she had learned to appreciate their beauty.
    Brook was panting by the time they had reached the clearing. Waving her hand in front of her face, she said, “I need to rest before we start.”
    “All you do is laze under the sun while I slave away on your picture,” he complained good-naturedly. Retrieving a flask from the basket, he poured some water into a cup and handed it to her. “If the heat is troubling you, I would not take offense if you chose to remove that burdensome dress.”

    This was one of his games. After her initial shock, she had gradually gotten into the spirit of the game, if not applauding his single-minded tenacity. Each afternoon he artlessly suggested that she allow him to paint her in the nude. She always politely refused and he never took offense. However, she had conceded his point that her spencer was unnecessary.
    “You are tarrying. Here, let me assist you before the clouds consume the sun.” All business, Mr. Claeg began to unbutton her spencer, ignoring her murmur of protest.
    “This is hardly appropriate.”
    He lifted his brows. “It is if I am trying to get your dress off.”
    She tossed her cup of water in his face. “Degenerate! Your charm may be boundless, but you will never convince me to model nude for you.” Brook backed up, not trusting the gleaming challenge in his eyes.
    “Care to wager on it?” he taunted, swinging an arm out to grab her.
    She jumped backward, picked up her skirts, and dashed to the left. He chased her, the pair of them zigzagging through the trees. Brook squeaked, barely avoiding capture by ducking low and doubling back. She laughed at his oath when he scraped his arm against one of the trees.
    “Shall I summon Mrs. Whitby to bandage your wound?” she called out, glancing back to see how close he was.
    Mr. Claeg had disappeared.
    Stunned, she skidded to a halt and whirled around. Where was he? “My lord, where—oof!”
    Brook fell neatly into his hands when he sprang his trap. Concealed behind one of the larger trees, he had circled around it and rushed her from the other side. They fell to the ground, but Mr. Claeg had been prepared for the possibility. Pulling her against his chest, he took the brunt of the fall on his side.

    “Damn, I landed on my injured arm,” he groaned, rolling on his back. Both lay there, staring up at the treetops, panting from the chase.
    “You deserve the pain.” She turned her head and glowered at him. “You nearly scared five years off me when you charged me. Will