by Dayna Quince
He stood and helped her to her feet. Her feet felt completely numb. She hobbled on tingly stumps to the sofa, holding the blanket tightly around her and attempted to remove her boots.
He disappeared into the front hall and returned with her portmanteau. She smiled her thanks and finished removing her boots. He disappeared again, and she used the privacy to remove her stockings and put on the dry dress. She wound her tangled hair into a knot and used her last two remaining pins to hold it in place. She was still cold, but the shivering had stopped, and she could feel her hands and feet again. He returned, also dressed again, as she laid her dress over a chair to dry.
“Let’s begin in the kitchen and see what can be done about making an especially hot pot of tea.”
“An excellent suggestion,” he agreed.
He followed her into the kitchen and unpacked the picnic basket while she searched the cupboards. There were very little supplies, but she did find a kettle and two teacups, along with some tea. The unpacking of the basket revealed an unusual amount of food for a picnic. Two loaves of bread, a block of cheese, a half dozen eggs, some cold chicken, scones, whole potatoes, carrots, celery, two bottles of wine, a small jar of sugar, and more tea. More food than was necessary for a picnic, but not enough to feed them more than a day.
“Well, it is quite clear my aunt had a diabolical plan.”
Rose stared at the food angrily. “Quite.”
“But the silver lining is that she doesn’t intend for us to be stranded here more than today,” he added.
Rose filled the kettle and hung it over the fire. “That may be, but it’s plenty of time to ruin my good name. Why would she do such a thing?”
“It’s obvious her matrimonial plans didn’t only include Mr. Daniel, but also me,” he murmured as he found a knife and cut a few slices of cheese.
His back was to her, so Rose let herself look as horrified as she felt. “I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry? Is that sufficient?”
He chuckled, his wide shoulders bobbing.
She couldn’t help but smile. “I swear I had no part in this.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “That was made evident when you tried to drown yourself rather than be alone with me.”
Rose winced and turned back to the kettle. She sprinkled tea leaves over the hot water and let it steep. She set out the cups and sugar after doing a cursory wipe with a cloth. Mr. Connor set out the bread and cheese along with the cold chicken.
Rose poured the tea, and they sat around the kitchen table and ate. They were both silent, and it was terribly awkward. What were they supposed to say? They’d been trapped by Lady Belfrost for the purposes of marriage, and it was absurd—all of it—the picnic, the reason for coming her. Rose felt like she should have noticed these things. How had she not seen this coming? She shook her head to herself.
“You look troubled.”
“What?” Rose squeaked in surprise. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her. She had been lost in her own thoughts.
“You looked as though you were having a rather intense conversation.” He smiled at her as he tossed a bite of bread in his mouth.
“I was. I just… I cannot believe she would do this to me—to us?”
“I’m not surprised. She was always a meddling mother goose.”
“This is beyond meddling. We’ve only just met. I’m her companion and you… you’re the heir. Why would she want us to marry?”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It does to me. She’s ruined me, and I…, I cannot marry you.”
Gabriel tried to pretend he wasn’t affected by the slight. Of course, she wouldn’t want to marry him. As she said, they only just met. “We won’t be marrying,” he stated.
“We haven’t a choice in the matter.”
He sighed. “I know you’ve seen very little of the world raised as a gentlewoman. I know that in your mind, this is the end of your good name, but I promise you all is not hopeless. She can leave us here for a day, even a week, and at the end, no one can make us marry.”
“I don’t think you understand how devastating this is to me. You’re a man, and furthermore, you spend most of your time away from England. I’m ruined, Mr. Connor,” Rose bit off. He had no idea just how ruined. She had nothing now, not even her name to recommend her.
He gave her a placating look. “Fine. You’re ruined. What now? Are you going to die? Will she turn you out on your ear? Who else knows we are here?”
All valid questions. Rose bit off a piece of bread as she thought about them.
“Like I said, no one can make us marry. We will simply wait until the water recedes and go back to Belfrost Manor as before.”
“Everyone at Belfrost will know.” Rose sipped her tea.
“They will know my aunt tried to trap you.”
“She succeeded. I can’t stay with her after this, but I have nowhere to go.”
“So stay. Demand a raise and give her hell for what she’s done.”
He made it sound so simple, but it was far from simple. Finishing the last of her lunch, she refilled her teacup and returned to the drawing room. He joined her a moment later but did not try to speak. That was fine in Roses mind. She was too angry to talk. She sat on the musty sofa and watched him build up the fire.
“I’m going to see how much dry wood we have for the evening,” he announced, and then he left the room. Rose stared at the fire, her thoughts an angry cyclone in her mind. She couldn’t stand to be idle, so she inspected the contents of her portmanteau. Beyond clothes to sleep in, she had only a single change of clothes. That must mean Lady Belfrost would return tomorrow. If that were the case… Well, perhaps Rose would forgive her. As he had said, they couldn’t be forced to marry. Rose would tell Lady Belfrost exactly what she thought of her insane plan, and then they would move on.
As long as nothing happened between Rose and Mr. Connor.
Which it wouldn’t because he’d already proven he had excellent self-control the evening before. All she had to do was keep her distance. The day was already half gone. How bad could it be?
She got up and examined the bookshelves. If she wanted to, she could read the rest of the day. The hours would fly by like minutes with the right book. Then come evening, she would drift to sleep. Come morning, this nightmare plan of Lady Belfrost’s would end, and her life would go back to normal.
It all sounded plausible now. Perhaps he was right. No one would know they were here, and those who did, like Glennis and the other staff—well, they would believe her if she said nothing occurred.
Even if it was a lie. He did undress her down to her undergarments, but that had all been for her health, not for seduction. And then there was the kiss to her hair, and she had thought about touching his nipples… But those things would never be known because Rose was confident that neither of them would tell a soul what had occurred here before the fire.
Gabriel knew she didn’t believe him, but he was right. No one could make them marry. She was understandably upset, she didn’t have the worldly knowledge he did, and she was scared for her future. Gabriel would do everything in his power to protect her from the repercussions. He believed his aunt would not turn her away for not marrying him. She was not a heartless woman. She would be disappointed, but she would make amends. She was eccentric and excitable, that was all. She wanted him home, and he was positive she had Miss Owen’s best interests at heart.
But… she was going about it entirely wrong. Insanely wrong. He would have a very long talk about it with her when this was all over. He would also discuss it with his uncle. His aunt seemed her usual self, but she was getting on in years, and it was possible her mind was slipping. He hated to think of her in such a way, but after what she’d done today… He shook his head and lifted his trunk. There was only one suitable room, and he intended for Miss Owens to have it. He claimed one of the other rooms for his private needs, but he intended to sleep on the sofa. He sto
pped in the last bedroom and inspected the hearth. It looked sound, so he prepared it for a fire and fetched wood. The room would not hold very much heat without the heavy drapes, but it was better than nothing.
Satisfied with the arrangement, he returned downstairs but hesitated before entering the drawing room. He’d given her some time to adjust to the shock of being alone with him, but now it was time for both to accept their situation. They were alone, but that didn’t mean they had to avoid each other. That would be boring, and Gabriel hated being bored. He’d much rather talk to her. There was so much more to her that he wanted to know.
He entered the drawing room and found her sitting comfortably on the sofa, feet tucked under her skirts, with a book in her lap. He was glad to see she had made herself comfortable. In his explorations of usable amenities, he found an oil lamp and oil. He set the lamp on the table beside her.
She looked up and smiled. “Wonderful! We won’t have to eat by only firelight tonight.”
“And you can read long after the sun sets.”
She held the book up. “Not likely. I can barely stay awake now.”
He looked at the cover. It was an agricultural manual. He grimaced. “Is there nothing more exciting to read?”
“Not that I could find. I would guess Lord Belfrost keeps his more salacious novels at home.”
Gabriel chuckled. He liked this version of Miss Owens. She was at ease, finally. “Well, I’m glad you’ve unwound your inner coil enough to relax. Since the moment I arrived, you reminded me of a spooked cat.”
She closed her book and considered him. “I am in no way comfortable with our circumstances, but I don’t see the value in pacing the floor and wringing my hands like a ninny.”
“To which I am extremely grateful, but I was only stating that I am happy to see you comfortable.”
Her mouth popped open as if she wanted to say something.
He quickly changed the subject. “I checked the rooms upstairs. There is only one habitable bedroom, and you should have it, of course. There are no spiders to be found now, and I started a fire in the grate.”
“Thank you.” She remained quiet, looking more uncomfortable by the moment.
He turned away and mumbled a curse. This was precisely what he didn’t want to happen.
“Where will you sleep?” she said from the sofa.
He turned back to her and pointedly looked down at the sofa.
“Oh.” She blushed. “Oh!” She leapt from the sofa like it was on fire. “I’m sorry.”
He raised both brows. “I didn't intend to sleep right now. You may sit.”
“I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be anywhere that others might construe as inappropriate.”
He spread his arms out and did a circle. “We moved past inappropriate some time ago.”
“I’m aware.” Her jaw tensed as she picked up her book from the floor and moved to a chair.
“I have a solution,” he said mockingly. “Why don’t I step outside and you can barricade the door. I’ll camp out there like a gypsy, and when my aunt returns tomorrow, it will be clear to everyone that you are still as innocent and miserable as you were the day I arrived.”
She snapped the book closed. Fire lit her eyes as she stood and faced him. “I am not miserable.”
He pointed a finger at her. “You are miserable, and you are a martyr. Poor Rose, her father has died. Poor Rose, she has not a shilling to her name. Poor Rose, she never married, and now she will live out her life as a dried-up spinster. My parents died, too. I was only sixteen, and you know what? I grieved, and then I moved on. I didn’t take to my blacks like a second skin and give up on life like you. I let go. We aren’t meant to hold on. We let go, and we live. That’s what our parents want for us, that is what we are made to do.” It hurt to say it, but dammit, she needed a shock. She needed to break out of her self-made misery.
She stared at him, her eyes wide and bright. “How dare you,” her voice was brittle. “You’ve known me three days, and you think you can sum me up in so little time? Who do you think you are?”
“I’m no one important, I know that, but I see you, Rose. I can’t stop looking at you since the moment I arrived. You’re a beautiful flower, but your cast in shadow, in soil barren of nutrients and too little water. You need sun, Rose. You need rain and the wind and someone to sniff you and adore you.”
Rose was stunned. It was the loveliest and most absurd thing anyone had ever said to her in her entire life. She could say that because she knew it to be true deep in her bones. That truth terrified her. She was already besotted with him, but this… this was dangerous. If her infatuation grew further, she would soon find herself in love.
“Don’t speak to me.” She turned away from him and bit her knuckle to keep from crying.
“Rose,” he pleaded.
“Don’t say my name. I haven’t given you leave to use it. You may think the rules don’t apply to you, but they do to me. When we are retrieved tomorrow, you can walk away from here, unscathed and unjudged, but I will carry this with me forever.” And she meant that. She would never forget what he said. She would carry it close to her heart for the rest of her life. She refused to let him or anyone else know that. All she had left was her pride.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed he wouldn’t come closer to her or try to touch her. She would break if he did. All her strength would crumble if he showed anymore care for her.
She didn’t know he’d left the room until the front door slammed. She jerked and ran to the window. He walked around the side of the house and out of her view. Relieved, she collected things that she might need for her room. She hurried to the kitchen. She tore off a chunk of bread and cut a thick slice of cheese. She hurried up to her room and set down her things, feeling childish. She was going to hide from him and avoid him for the rest of the night. She didn’t know what else to do. She was either angry with him or pining for him, and those two emotions were too complex to house in one body. It was driving her crazy. Retreat was the best solution, even if it made her a coward. She would think of the drawing room as his domain now.
She looked at the bed. The afternoon light was waning, but it looked inviting. If only she could sleep until the carriage arrived tomorrow. She resettled the pillows, noting their softness. Then she thought of Mr. Connor downstairs with nothing but a dusty sofa to sleep on.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she hugged the pillow to her chest and hurried downstairs. The hall was still empty. She tiptoed into the drawing room, also void of a large angry handsome man. She dropped the pillow on the sofa and scurried back to her room.
Chapter 8
Gabriel stayed outside until his toes were numb. The empty stable beside the lodge protected him from the elements but was nowhere near warm. As dusk began to steal the light, he returned inside. She wasn’t in the drawing room or the kitchen. He assumed she was in her room now, determined to avoid him. Fine. He didn’t care. He broke off a piece of bread and cheese, made a pot of tea, and settled into the drawing room after stoking the fire high. He removed his boots and stretched his toes toward the fire. He ate in silence and watched the flames, but his mind still centered on her.
He was determined not to check on her. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need the likes of him to see to her welfare. She’d made it clear how little she thought of him. An heir or not, he was not a gentleman, not like those she rubbed elbows with in London. Gabriel didn’t care for fine port and smoky studies. He craved the outdoors. He was an explorer, an adventurer, as people have said, but really, he was just interested in the world more than any drawing room. There was so much to see, forests and mountains not yet discovered by man. He wasn’t intelligent enough to think of himself as a scientist, but he had traveled with many, and he recognized the same aspirations in himself. To know the unknowable, to see what has never been seen before, and to touch what has never been touched.
To connect. He liked seeing how different people lived.
There was so much more to life than what he was born to be. He couldn’t stand the thought of staying in one place as his uncle had, even though it was his destiny. Until the moment he inherited, he wouldn’t give up his yearning to explore the world.
As for Rose, well, he’d never know her. Not the way he wanted. She was an enigma. She refused to see the light, refused to acknowledge that there could be more than her sad sheltered life. He couldn’t force her to want her own happiness. She wasn’t his concern.
He wasn’t usually protective. The women he met on his travels either were married or could take care of themselves. He found that attractive in a woman. Miss Owens was different. She was a gently bred woman who now lived in an odd in-between. She wasn’t a servant, but she wasn’t a ranking member of society.
Gabriel tried to understand it from her point of view. Thinking like that had served him well when meeting new people from drastically different cultures. He tried to see himself through her eyes. He supposed he seemed arrogant, but she was as stubborn as a mule. Maybe she was afraid? Fear was a powerful motivation, but he just didn’t understand why she was so afraid. She was an unsolvable puzzle. He hated and loved a good mystery, but only when he had the chance to solve them. If she were avoiding him, he’d never get a chance to solve her.
It was then he noticed the pillow. It was soft and brilliantly white against the shabby maroon velvet of the sofa. He pulled it close to inspect it, recognizing it from the bedroom upstairs that Rose now occupied. As he brought it close to his chest, a waft of scent caught his attention. He sniffed the pillow, heat spreading through him as he hugged it tight and took a deeper inhale.
It was her.
The scent was tauntingly light, but it was there. She’d left him a pillow. How very thoughtful. But did she have any idea what she was doing to him? The barest of scent clung to the soft cotton like a ghost of her. Had she held it close to her bosom?
