Aaron went to argue, but she placed a hand on his arm for a brief moment. Why did her touch make him feel so alive?
Miss Dunston’s eyes twinkled as she continued. “I understand that there are a number of families without daughters returning to their country estates at the beginning of next month. The others will return in July and August, so why not wait until then to begin the arduous task of gathering allies?”
Aaron considered her words. “Do you mean to say that you intend to continue with this endeavor of trying to save the theater?”
“I do. But I propose that for the next thirty days, neither of us engage in any sort of solicitation of funds for our particular cause. Once those with the financial ability to help have returned to their country estates, we can begin again.”
Aaron frowned in thought. Her idea was sound. Had he not considered the difficulty of approaching the few who remained in the country? Yet he would never admit he had felt defeated at times. How could he? Especially in the presence of this young lady? Doing so would only open him up for annihilation.
Yet, she saved him from confessing the truth.
“I’m sure a strong man such as yourself has already considered this.”
Her gentle hand on his arm sent his chest to roaring once more. “I have. In fact, I had hoped to present this very idea to you today.”
“Then we have an agreement?”
A smile crossed his lips for a brief moment, but he withdrew it. He had nearly agreed outright. Yet if he did so, the pride this young lady possessed would grow to the point of being unwieldy. Perhaps it was best to make her wait for his response.
“I’ll consider it,” he replied.
A yelp made them both start, and a brown dog came limping up the drive from the main road. It had big, floppy ears, a wrinkly face, a panting tongue, and a tail that wagged when he caught sight of them.
“A hunting mastiff,” they both uttered as one.
The sound of Miss Dunston’s laugh was more melodious than any orchestra Aaron had ever heard. And for the first time since he could remember, his joining laughter was genuine.
“You know hunting dogs?” he asked. “How?”
“My father and his friends enjoy hunting a great deal. Our mastiff was named Quinton because he was the last of a litter of five. I adored him.” She laughed. “Mother would not allow him into the house, so I used to sneak food from my dinner plate to feed him.”
“Did no one else feed him?” Aaron asked.
“Oh, yes, but he was so big, I thought for sure he needed more food. I was only a child at the time.”
Aaron clutched his side as he laughed. “My father’s dog was named Lazarus. I, too, sneaked food out to him for that very reason.”
Miss Dunston arched an eyebrow. “Lazarus? What an odd name for a dog.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Aaron said. “He was named for my father’s brother, whom he despised.”
This had them both laughing again, as the mastiff limped toward them, his head hanging low and his tail between his legs.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation later,” Aaron said. “It appears our friend here is in need of aid.” He offered her his arm, which she once again took, and they made their way toward the dog.
How odd it was that he, a knight, shared a love of animals with a simple schoolgirl. Which begged the question, what else did they share?
What difference does it make?he asked himself. By the end of the following month, he would win this strange battle they had waged with each other, and the building that housed the theater would be his.
ChapterEight
Louisa had never felt more satisfied than she did at this moment. From Sir Aaron’s sharp intake of breath, her accolades had him lowering his guard. He needed time to think, or so he had said, but his smile told her all she needed to know. He was malleable enough to get him to agree to her terms. Terms she had no intention of honoring. After all, saving the theater was much more important than keeping to an agreement she had had not meant to comply with in the first place.
Sometimes acts of war call for deception to reach victory. Had Odysseus not built a wooden horse to sneak into Troy? Had the Normans not drawn the English off Senlac Hill by feigning defeat and fleeing? Had the Turks not dressed as bird sellers to infiltrate the Frankish camps at the Field of Blood? No one thought twice about their cunning, so why could she not use similar means to win this battle between them?
The sight of the injured dog, however, had her putting aside her thoughts of victory. Sir Aaron’s laugh made her feel comfortable, as did the arm he offered her. What was it about this man that brought about a sense of safety? Of being protected? That no man—nor beast—could harm her in any way? Not once had he mentioned providing her protection, yet here she was accepting it outright.
Life had a peculiar way of changing one’s opinion of a given situation. It had nothing to do with his height nor his well-defined arms. She had admired the taut muscles through the sleeves of his coat only moments ago. The touch had been spontaneous, calling to her, tempting her. Who was she to deny herself a simple pleasure that would cause no harm to anyone?