Читать книгу Pleasured by the English Spy - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 6

Chapter III

She drew him to an already harvested section of the vineyard that looked down into the valley below. Flashes of silver in the dark suggested that a river flowed down there. Perhaps in the daylight he might even see a town. But for now, all he could make out was the shapes of hills and a few contours of the land. Behind them, the torches cast fingers of light in their direction.

“This is one of my favorite views in the daylight,” Olivia said quietly, settling herself on the ground. Andrew sat down beside her, privately wondering when the last time was that he’d sat directly on the ground. The outdoor entertainments in Vienna had been carefully planned excursions to the Black Forest, complete with tents and chairs and glass goblets. He could imagine what his friends—what his best friend, Camden Mathison—would say, seeing him now.

“You’re lost in thought.” Olivia drew him back to the present.

“I find myself swamped with reflections,” Andrew admitted. “I’ve been away from this life for a long time, not all of it by choice. Being here today brings it all back.”

“You were raised here?” She queried, somewhat surprised by the reference. He’d mentioned earlier that he’d spent some time in this area, but being raised here was far different from merely paying a visit.

“Near Fiesole. I lived with my mother’s parents until I was fifteen. My father was English. He left when I was two. He had a brother who needed him in England, and my mother did not wish to leave her home. By then the romance had dried up between them. If she’d ever changed her mind about joining him later, the growing wars with Napoleon put paid to any such notion.” Andrew shrugged in the darkness. His father’s desertion had always been something he’d tried to treat with nonchalance but had yet to succeed.