Topknot, who had never come to Gemma's call, not once, not ever, bounded out of a nearby bramble thicket and galloped to Mr. Worthington's side, her awkward hop only discernible when she slowed down. Mr. Worthington simply glanced at her and gave no command, but Topknot planted her bottom and sat at attention immediately. Her ears perked and her head turned slightly as her bright eyes focused on the biscuit in his hand. "For me?" rang as clear as a bell.

He held it out for the herd dog to sniff. She did so delicately, and hesitated a moment, as if weighing the unusual bouquet of ginger and sugar. With her sensitive nose, she could likely smell the butter and flour as well. She opened her jaw and daintily accepted the offering. Mr. Worthington waved his hand and Topknot took off with her prize.

"Do you think she will eat it?"

He considered the question with utmost seriousness. "No. Bury it, perhaps."

"A well-deserved entombment, if so."

Topknot did neither. After lying down in the grass with the biscuit between her front paws, the dog gave it several tentative nibbles. Then she licked all the crystalline sugar off the top, picked it up in her teeth, and trotted over to where Bad Pony grazed with grumpy industry.

Bad Pony, who'd never missed a meal in his life, simply grazed the cookie along with the tough grasses and crunched the ancient treat in his powerful jaws.

"Oh dear. Don't tell Mr. Bing."

Mr. Worthington merely slanted his gaze in her direction, causing Gemma to laugh once more. "Yes. Well, I suppose that was an unnecessary request."

It has been so long since she'd been on a picnic, even longer since she'd heard a concert or seen a play. She confessed her feeling of isolation even among the people who respected and needed her. She felt very much at ease. Mr. Worthington was neither more nor less than her. They were equals in age and experience. They had both gone out into a war-torn world and seen things that the people they came home to could never understand.

Goodness, she was talking his ear off! Gemma soothed her self-consciousness by reminding herself that any woman would spill her thoughts to a man who actually held still and listened!

CHAPTER 18

Chapter 18

AFTER PACKING UP THE picnic they strolled leisurely along the crest of the fell, making closer examination of the ancient stone structures. Some were higher than others, at times taller than Lysander could reach, and sometimes truncated by time and damage. The cairns were by no means of uniform shape. He imagined a crew of indignant cheese makers storming the fell in the dark of night to erect the boundary stones by lantern light. That is how he would've done it, to startle the enemy — well, in this case perhaps the competition — with the sun breaking over the boundary stones as if they had erupted overnight from the earth.