英语小说：Destined To Last 节选(2)

英语小说：Destined To Last 节选(2) ZT

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DESTINED TO LAST
by Alissa Johnson (fiction)

A Leisure Book
Published by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
ISBN: 9780843962529
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She crouched down in front of the girl and spoke gently. "I think,
Lizzy, that it would be best if you were to come to Haldon with us
for a time. I shall ask one of my footmen to wait here and bring...
er...Puck along when he arrives, and then we shall see what is to be
done."

"Haldon," Lizzy repeated. "The big house what everyone here talks
about?"

"The very one. Would you like that?"

Kate tugged on her sleeve. "Mama?"

"Is it warm?" Lizzy asked.

"Quite."

"Is there food?"

"Oh, plenty," Lady Thurston assured her.

"Mama?"

Lizzy bit her lip, clearly tempted. "And Puck can come too?"

"Certainly."

"Mama, who is that?"

"Hmm?" Lady Thurston looked away from Lizzy briefly. "What is it?"

Kate turned to point across the square. "Who is..." She trailed off
and dropped her hand. "He's gone."

"Who, darling?"

"A boy."

"There are many boys in Benton, Kate."

"Yes, but...this one was different."

"Every child is different," she said distractedly and rose to offer
Lizzy her hand. "Shall we go?"

The little girl hesitated, then reached out and placed a small, cold
hand in hers.


CHAPTER ONE

Lady Kate Cole was, by most accounts, a young woman of exceptional
beauty, extraordinary talent, and notable charm. She was also, by
"all" accounts, a woman so remarkably prone to accidents that it was
generally considered wise to back away if she happened to be
standing next to a steep hill, a large body of water, an open
window, or any sort of material that might cut, discolor, burn,
spill, break... It was probably best if one simply kept a bit of
distance from the girl whenever possible.

There were times Kate rather wished she could do the same. Now, for
example, would have been an ideal moment to back away from herself--
while she was standing on the grassy lawn of Haldon Hall with her
pale rose gown conspicuously splattered from hem to neck with mud.
"Again." And while her blonde hair was damp at the ends, coming out
of its pins, and likely sporting a number of leaves in various
stages of decomposition. "Again." And while one Mr. Hunter was
striding toward her from the house to witness her in all her
rumpled, mud-covered, frightful-haired embarrassment. "Ag--" Well,
no, that was a first.

"Oh, blast."

Why, "why" had she not taken care where she walked along the pond
instead of humming the new waltz she'd composed whilst daydreaming
about what it might be like to dance that very waltz with the
gentleman of her dreams? She'd imagined what he might look like and
sound like and talk about and...and then suddenly it "hadn't" been a
waltz she was hearing in her head, it had been a sonatina. And she'd
no longer been walking gracefully along the muddy shore, she'd been
lying on it.

Grimacing, she watched as Mr. Hunter drew closer, and wondered if it
would be unforgivably rude if she turned away and walked--or quite
possibly ran--around to the side of the house. Then she wondered if
she cared overmuch whether it was unforgivably rude. She decided yes
on both accounts, which was something of a disappointment, because
of all the people currently attending her mother's house party,
there were few she would rather see less.

There was something about Mr. Hunter that put her on edge. To begin
with, the man was impossibly well groomed. In Kate's opinion, it
simply wasn't natural that one should "never" have a spot on one's
clothes or have a button go missing or a hair fly out of place. Mr.
Hunter's attention to the details of his attire seemed more in tune
with the fussy habits of a delicate London dandy than it did with a
gentleman of his size. Which was another thing about the man that
put her on edge--he was, aside from the local blacksmith, quite the
most imposing person of her acquaintance. He was even taller than
her brother, Whit, and notably broader across the chest and
shoulders. Perhaps the broadness was the reason that, while she
found Whit's size and strength to be reassuring, Mr. Hunter's large
frame made her feel a mite overwhelmed.

The rest of his appearance only enhanced that feeling. His eyes and
hair were dark as night, his jaw hard, his cheekbones sharp, and his
full mouth often curved into a small, but wicked smile, so that she
rather fancied he looked a well-dressed pirate caught in a private
joke.

What troubled her most of all, however, was that he sometimes used
his size, dark gaze, and impossibly polished appearance to stand
over her and make her feel ill at ease.

The man "loomed," there was nothing else for it. Even when they were
separated by an entire ballroom--and she generally took pains to see
that they were--he still managed to loom. It was most disconcerting.

===========ABOUT THE AUTHOR===========

Alissa Johnson grew up on various Air Force bases in the U.S. and
Europe. Currently, she resides in the Ozarks of Northwest Arkansas
where she is hard at work on her next romance.