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you re fleet-footed, you ll catch one for yourself.
Nick was about to refuse when his gaze was caught by a new cluster of girls grasping the Maypole
ribbons. One of them seized his full attention. Like the others, she wore a white peasant dress, her hair
covered by a red cloth. At this distance her features were difficult to discern, but Nick recognized her at
once. A rueful smile curved his lips as he recalled Charlotte s saying that she intended to stay in her room
with a book that night. No doubt the Westcliffs would disapprove of her attending the village festival, and
so she had chosen to go in disguise. Fascination and desire swirled inside him as his gaze tracked
Charlotte s slim figure. She wound in and out of the Maypole circle, her hands flung exuberantly high
over her head.
I believe I will join you, Nick murmured, accompanying the eager rakes down the hill.
Laughing recklessly, Lottie joined the mass of maidens who waited in tense readiness to race to the
village green. From what she had been able to deduce, the betrothed of May was an exceptional catch
this year the butcher s son, a handsome blond lad with blue eyes and a fine physique, and a guarantee
of inheriting a profitable family business. Of course Lottie had no intention of trying to reach him.
However, it was fun to join in the game, and she was entertained by the excitement of the girls around
her.
The signal was given, and Lottie was carried along with the village girls in a frantic rush. The wildness
and noise was such a contrast to her quiet existence at Stony Cross Park that she felt a jolt of
exhilaration. She had spent so many years learning proper comportment at Maidstone s, and struggling to
remain inconspicuous as a companion to Lady Westcliff, that she couldn t remember the last time she had
raised her voice. Caught up in the moment, she howled with laughter and screamed as loudly as the
determined brides-to-be around her as the group swarmed over the green. From somewhere ahead, a
jubilant cry rang over the crowd. The victor, a robust red-haired girl, clambered onto her new fianc s
broad shoulders, exultantly waving a bouquet of wildflowers. I did it! she crowed. I got im, e s
mine!
Cheering, the villagers surrounded the newly betrothed couple, while disappointed maidens scattered
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and ran toward the forest. A host of eager men followed, ready to begin the night s a-maying.
Smiling, Lottie followed at a relaxed pace, having no wish to be the focus of some overexcited lad s
amorous attention. In a few minutes, the revelers would pair off, and she would sneak back to Stony
Cross Park. Stopping at the edge of the forest, she leaned against a heavy-crowned sycamore and
sighed in satisfaction. Her knees were pleasantly weak from dancing and wine. This was the first year she
had actually taken part in May Day, rather than simply watched, and it had been even more enjoyable
than she had expected. A tune played insistently in her head, and she sang to herself in a whisper, her
eyes closed as she rested back against the smooth, mottled bark.
Go no more a-rushing, maids in May,
go no more a-rushing, maids, I pray,
go no more a-rushing, or you ll fall a-blushing&
Although all was still and quiet around her, some instinct warned she was no longer alone. Pausing,
Lottie lifted her lashes and recoiled as she saw a dark shape right beside her. Good Lord! She
stumbled backward, and a pair of hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her.
Sputtering in surprise, Lottie flailed at her captor in a bid for freedom.
Easy, came a masculine voice, rich with laughter. Easy. It s me.
She gasped and went still, staring up at his dark face. Lord S-Sydney?
Yes.
You nearly frightened me to death!
Sorry. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. I didn t want to interrupt you.
Lottie laughed and pushed at him, mortified to be caught singing to herself like some half-wit. How did
you find me?
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