Excerpt of The Apple Blossom Bower by Margaret Evans Porter

Guiding his horse along the rutted road leading out of Painsford village, Sir Edwin Page acknowledged that the fine weather should have put him in a more cheerful frame of mind. The sun shone brightly and the mild breeze so common to Devonshire carried the scent of young grass and spring flowers. His view of the winding Harbourne River and the vista of low hills to the south was sublime.

His bachelor state contradicted nature's immutable law, for songbirds had paired to make their nests and young otters dwelling along the riverbank had selected their mates. He'd soon turn thirty—1794 was four months old now. In all likelihood he'd celebrate his birthday alone.

There was, he reminded himself, a solution to his problem.

A curve in the hedge–bound track brought him to a straighter stretch where he generally guided his mount from a trot into an easy canter to make up time. Two other riders had halted just ahead of him, blocking the way, and he was forced to rein in.

A man in mud–spattered breeches, the local Exciseman, stood in the road arguing with a young female seated upon a sturdy Dartmouth pony. The animal also carried a pair of small wooden kegs, which had apparently attracted the officer's attention.

"If you won't permit me to inspection those casks," he was saying sternly, "I'll have to seize them."

"But I've told you," the girl replied, "they contain naught but cider. My mother's Easter gift to my uncle."

"If that's so, why can't I open them to make sure?"

Edwin was happy to intervene. "Good day, Miss Kelland," he called out. "And my respects to you, Captain Harper."

The antagonists turned their heads in unison.

The Exciseman was the first to address him. "Sir Edwin, you're a justice of the peace, are you not? Please be so good as to inform this young woman that I bear the authority to inspect any and all goods being transported in this district."

"True," said Edwin agreeably. "And you have my word that Miss Kelland carries no contraband. You've no cause for concern." He studied the girl's impassive face. His own mood had improved substantially, and he was thankful for the necessity of his journey to Dartmouth. If fate were truly kind, that was also Annis Kelland's destination.

"No cause for concern?" Harper echoed. "She's the daughter of a villainous smuggler, who was tried and committed to Exeter Gaol for his crimes."

"My father died more than a decade ago," said Annis, her pointed chin jutting upward. "So I can hardly be considered guilty by association."

Edwin could well imagine how little she liked having her parent's unlawful trade and imprisonment held against her. Seeking to spare her further embarrassment, he said firmly, "Captain Harper, you've made a grievous error, and the possible consequences will not reflect well upon you. Squire Dundridge is a mild–mannered gentleman, but he would be displeased to learn you detained his stepdaughter on the high road and accused her of being a free trader."

The officer was clearly affronted. "I was doing my duty, sir. The gentry may choose to close their eyes to what goes on hereabouts, but I must keep vigilant. If all smugglers had pretty faces," he grumbled, climbing into his saddle, "I'd have no luck catching any of 'em." He rode away at a brisk trot.

A blushing Annis turned to the baronet. "I thank you for rescuing me from that land shark, Sir Edwin."

Her use of smuggling cant amused him. Grinning, he asked, "It is really cider you've got in those casks?"

She failed to dignify his teasing question with a reply. Flicking her pony with the peeled willow switch that served as her whip, she rode on.

He urged his own mount forward, for he'd not found an opportunity to speak privately with her since last autumn's apple harvest. And this time, he thought with satisfaction, she could not escape so easily.

Her pony's large black eye rolled to the side when the taller horse came abreast, and he tossed his head in agitation. His mistress regarded Edwin with a similar wariness.

Her light brown hair was woven into a long braid that hung down her back, much to his disappointment. Edwin preferred it unconfined, flowing loose and long—as it had one evening some six months ago, when he'd raked his fingers through the curling mass to learn its texture.

Her loveliness was far from conventional yet Edwin had been enchanted by it for the past two years. He especially liked her hazel eyes, so large and clear, and her pink mouth with its lusciously plump lower lip. The bones of her oval face were delicate, surprisingly refined for a country lass. Her complexion was lightly and unfashionably tanned, and the freckles scattered across a straight nose and along her cheekbones bore testimony to her aversion to hats. A snowy white kerchief was crossed over her full breasts, and the rest of her figure was flattered by a flowered bodice worn over a serviceable skirt of russet cloth.

The young woman's charming countenance and superbly endowed figure had first caught his eye. On becoming better acquainted, he'd found himself admiring her calm demeanor, and a contradictory mischievous quality. Annis Kelland made no apology for what her father had been, nor did she boast of her mother's unusually advantageous second marriage. She kept her thoughts and feelings to herself, and her detachment was damnably frustrating to Edwin, preferring intimacy to neighborliness.

"Where are you bound this morning?" he asked her.

"To Dartmouth."

"So am I."