What a Lady Demands Read Online Free PDF Page A

to escape that oppressive house.
    The bright sunlight eased Cecelia’s mood, as well. The grounds in late August spread before her, lush with the abundant rain on this part of the coast, the green of the manicured lawns punctuated here and there with the reds, oranges, purples, and yellows of summer flowers. Hedges of rhododendron edged each level with an uproar of pink. As with the nursery décor, Cecelia suspected the late Lady Lindenhurst had taken a hand here, and the groundskeepers merely kept up the gardens out of habit.
    At the step where the first terrace dropped to the next, Jeremy stumbled. His feet slipped onto the gravel path that wound back toward the stables.
    “Careful there,” she said.
    “I’m all right.” True to form, he didn’t even turn to look at her, but this time she couldn’t blame him. If he’d spent the entire summer and longer cooped up in that nursery, it was no wonder he wouldn’t turn his attention to anything besides the open land about him.
    “Where would you like to go first? The stables?” From her younger days, she remembered the fresh scent of hay and the well-kept box stalls housing velvet-nosed mares and even-tempered geldings. If she’d stopped to think, she’d have stopped by the kitchens to collect a carrot or two that Jeremy could offer the beasts. “We might look at the horses.”
    Like a man recently sprung from prison, Jeremy drew in a breath, his gaze fixed on a stand of trees at the far end of the lawn. Cecelia followed the line of his sight. The forbidden pond lay beyond those oaks, perhaps a quarter mile from where they stood. A tangle of undergrowth marked the entrance to the path that twisted through the copse.
    He took a few steps onto the lawn. “I can see them any old time.”
    She narrowed her eyes at the place where she recalled the path. The rest of the grounds seemed in excellent repair. The rhododendron was precisely trimmed, the grass cut to the requisite half inch in height. Not a single flower strayed from its appointed spot, and not so much as the smallest weed marred the arrangements. And yet, the path lay choked with brambles, like the hedge of thorns in the Sleeping Beauty tale. As if that pond was forbidden to more than just Jeremy. As if Lindenhurst had decided to deny its very existence.
    Drat. She should have asked him yesterday why the pond was off-limits, but she’d accepted his dictate as a condition of having won a small concession. She hadn’t counted on her confounded curiosity.
    Nor, for that matter, had she counted on Jeremy’s. Naturally, a small boy might single out such a location as the most attractive place to explore. The better to get dirty.
    She could hardly blame him.
    “I don’t think we’d better venture too far,” she said, and not only to discourage him from venturing toward the forbidden.
    Something was off about his gait. Indoors, the walls, furniture, and railings had all given him handy spots to catch his balance. She hadn’t really taken note, but she couldn’t help it now. As he trotted across the grass, his feet tangled with each other. Once again, he tripped, and this time he sprawled on his stomach.
    Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she strode after him. “Are you hurt?”
    He picked himself up and sent her a glower worthy of his father. “No.”
    She knelt, bringing herself to his level so she could see straight into his eyes. If he was lying, she didn’t expect he could put it past her. Not when she was such an old hand at telling untruths. But his gaze was clear, if hard. His lower lip poked out, and he carried his shoulders as stiff and square as any soldier at attention, only instead of offering unquestioning obedience, he personified defiance. He wasn’t challenging her to believe him. He was challenging her not to march him straight back to the nursery where he’d be safe.
    Safe. And was that the reason Lindenhurst kept Jeremy confined to the house? To keep him from harming