by Wendy Vella
“He’s gone and I didn’t even get a chance to ask for money! That man is as slippery as an eel, and to think I was starting to believe his lies about not receiving my letters.”
Max wasn't sure why Hero Appleby’s words made him angry yet they did. Perhaps it was because from the outset she had been willing to believe the worst of him. Whatever the reason she was about to be very embarrassed when he stepped out from behind this screen, and he could not find it inside him to feel sorry about that, in fact he was looking forward to it.
Chapter Six
Hero stomped into the kitchens feeling worn out. She’d spent precious minutes soothing Emmaline’s tears and retrieving her book, which Colin had placed on the highest shelf he could reach, and then she had gone looking for Lord Caruthers, only to find him gone.
“Bloody botheration! God save me from rich, spoilt noblemen.”
“Hero!”
“Sorry.” Hero waved a hand toward the housekeeper. “I’m just frustrated I couldn't get him to open his coffers. The man’s tighter than—”
“Hero!”
A very bad feeling washed over Hero as Mrs. Bonny yelled her name again. A feeling of impending doom, rather like the one she’d had at the reading of her father’s will. Looking at the woman, she noted her eyes moving to the screen at her side. Owen was doing the same.
“He’s behind that screen, isn't he?”
They both nodded.
She didn't move, simply moaned softly as he appeared before her with a jar of onions in one hand and Sarah at his side. She watched as he carefully placed the jar on the bench, then briefly placed a hand on Owen's head before walking toward her, not stopping until he was inches away. She could now see the small scar that ran along his chin. The fine white line would be almost invisible unless a person was standing as close to him as she was.
“Firstly, Miss Appleby,” he said in a deep, even voice, “I do not tolerate lying in others and therefore, it is something I never indulge in myself.”
“Lord Caruthers, please, I—”
“Secondly,” he said in the same level tone she knew instinctively he used when angry. “I do not like to see anyone suffer, especially not children. And whilst you may believe me akin to a slimy, elongated fish, with the blood temperature to match, I fail to see how you have formed this opinion of me on such a short acquaintance, and, if my guess is accurate, gossip.”
“Oh, well, my lord, as to that—”
“I shall take my leave now so as not to offend your tender sensibilities with my unwelcome presence a moment longer.”
Before she could say anything further, he had nodded to the children and Mrs. Bonny and was walking from the kitchen.
Stunned, Hero watched the door shut softly behind him.
“Go after him, Hero!”
Mrs. Bonny’s words galvanized Hero into action. Opening the door, she hurried to catch up with Lord Caruthers, who was taking the steps two at a time.
“Wait, please, Lord Caruthers.”
He didn’t, instead reaching the top and turning left, a path which would take him to the front door. Hero reached it seconds later but he already had it open and closed behind him. She quickly opened and closed it herself. She couldn’t see him as she stepped into the snow. He must have already rounded the house and was likely now making his way to the stables.
“Botheration. Bloody man,” Hero muttered as she stomped after him. The snow was deep and her slippers were soaked in seconds. Lifting her skirts, she moved as fast as the conditions allowed. By the time she reached the stables, she was breathless. Dropping her skirts, she hurried to where he stood outside his horse’s stall.
“Will you not let me apologize, my lord?” Hero reached him. “Am I to be persecuted for daring to speak ill of you?”
Hero regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth because in seconds he was before her. Looming over her, intimidating her with his anger.
“My Lord!”
“You, Hero Appleby, wouldn’t know the correct way to apologize if your life depended on it.”
The breath left her body in a rush as he closed the last few inches between them. His hands moved to her upper arms, holding her still, and she could feel the cold from his coat pressed against her front. Even though he was not hurting her, Hero could do nothing to stop the instant chill of fear that gripped her. Her cousin had grabbed her once, his fingers biting into her arms as he’d forced his mouth on top of hers.
“Let me go.” Her words were strong, belying the tension inside her. She would show no man fear again.
“Why are you so intent on believing the worst of me when we barely know each other?”
His frown was fierce as he glared down at her. Swallowing, Hero tried to retreat, yet he was having none of it.
“I…I have a mistrust of noblemen, my lord, and I fear it clouds my judgment upon occasion.”
He looked at her then, his eyes running over her face slowly and something he saw made him soften his grip on her.
“I would have thought one flutter of those ridiculously long lashes would get you just what you wanted, Hero Appleby, and then there is the enticement of your mouth, as it was surely made for kissing.”
“Unhand me at once, my Lord.” Hero hated the desperation in her voice.
His hands moved to cup her face. “Did your cousin give you this fear?”
“I fear no one, least of all a man,” she lied.
“I would never hurt you.”
Hero closed her eyes at his whispered words, only to have them spring open as his mouth brushed hers. One hand cupped her head, turning it gently as he deepened the contact. Caressing her lips he coaxed her to respond.
Head spinning, her hands clutched the lapels of his overcoat to steady herself. She was surrounded by him—his heady scent, the heat from his body—and Lord, never had she felt so much. She was drowning in sensation. Fear had been replaced by heat pooling inside her.
He pulled away from her suddenly, the rasp of his breath the only sound for several seconds as he looked down at her with the embers of passion still smoldering in his eyes.
“You need to run away from me, Miss Appleby. Run fast because right at this moment, all I can think about is carrying you into the stall behind me and finishing what I just started, which should assure you I am indeed the man you believe me to be.”
Hero stumbled back a few steps at the harsh words. Dragging her eyes from his handsome face, she turned and ran for the door. Hurrying back through the snow toward the house but did not turn, intent only on reaching the safe haven of her room. The snow muffled his approach and then she was being lifted high into the air and placed across Lord Caruthers’s thighs.
“Be still,” he ordered as she struggled for release. Hero didn’t speak, instead keeping her eyes forward as his mount carried them to the front door. She could feel the strength of his thighs beneath her own, and the hand around her waist was a band of iron. Once they reached the house, he lifted her again with ease, placing her on the first step.
“Thank you,” Hero managed without looking at him. She then hurried up the remaining steps and into the house, closing the door quietly behind her.
Max watched until Hero had closed the door and then headed his horse down the driveway.
That kiss had left him painfully aroused and even the freezing conditions were doing nothing to lower his temperature. How could a simple kiss with a woman who loathed him have him more excited than any before her? Grabbing a handful of snow from a passing branch, he crunched it in his gloved hand and slapped it on his face. He could still feel the weight of her seated on his thighs as he carried her to the front door. He would not allow himself to want that smart mouthed, badly behaved woman.
The problem was, when he'd looked down at her and seen the fear in her eyes, he'd wanted to erase it. He’d wanted to hunt down her cousin and make him pay for frightening Hero. Max wondered what the bastard had done to her. Whatever it was, it must have been b
ad to scare a woman with the spirit of Hero Appleby.
She was a devout spinster. The dedication she showed to those children confirmed that. So why did he want her naked beneath him on a large bed? Why was she the one to intrigue him when so many others had not?
Reaching the town of Neathern, he thought about Hero and the children who were her life. From his first step inside the orphanage, he had felt something which confused him. A need to care for others had crept over him—a need to help and protect. When Owen stoically told him he did not need toys, Max had fought the urge to place a hand around the boy's shoulders to comfort him.
Lord Cold-hearted, many women had called him. He did not offer comfort; nor did he offer sympathy. He said what he wanted and believed needed to be said, and he did not have a softer side. He'd been raised this way and he knew no other.
Running a cold hand over his face again, he tried to make sense out of what he was feeling. He had seen plenty of children on the streets of London in need of help and support, yet they had not stayed in his thoughts. Nor had he wanted to help them with anything more than a few coins.
Walking up the main street slowly, Max found himself reining in his horse in front of the first shop. Sitting there for a few minutes, he looked at the bolts of fabrics and ribbons in the windows. Surely he could give those children a few things to ease their plight. It would simply be a good deed at a time of year that was filled with them.
Swinging his leg over the saddle, he dismounted and after securing his horse, he opened the shop door and walked inside.
Chapter Seven
‘Nice’ seemed such an innocuous word for what Hero just experienced, yet her befuddled thoughts could not conjure up another. Pressing a hand to her lips, she tried to remove the sensation Lord Caruthers had left on them. When her cousin had kissed her, she'd felt ill, cringing from his touch, yet not with Lord Caruthers. No, with him, she'd wanted more. Her fear had fled, to be replaced with a riot of feeling. She wanted to experience it again, be pressed to his hard body and have his lips on hers. She’d never believed herself capable of such emotions, yet he had changed her beliefs. Hero feared she would remember the sensations from those precious minutes in her stables for the remainder of her days.
Of course, to him the kiss had meant nothing, Hero was not foolish enough to believe otherwise. The man was an experienced rake. Even someone who did not frequent society knew that.
She also knew he would not be returning to Bratton House, he’d made that very clear, and along with that thought came another. Hero would now need to explore other means of support for the children.
“Hero, you need to come now. Sarah has Colin on the floor and they are wrestling again and Mrs. Bonny is threatening them with her broom!”
“I’m coming, Emmaline.”
Hero shook her head a few times to clear it and left her room. She would not think again about what had happened today, as no good could come of that.
And if you believe he will be that easy to forget you are a fool.
“Mrs. Bonny is chasing them around her kitchen, Hero, and Colin cussed, which Mrs. Bonny said would mean no cake for him.”
Emmaline took the hand Hero held out to her and they hurried down the stairs to the kitchens, where she found Colin and Sarah rolling around on the floor. After soothing Mrs. Bonny and threatening the wrestlers with dire consequences should they not behave, they all sat down at the kitchen table. Mealtimes were always a loud, boisterous affair and whilst she was attempting to teach Charlotte that a spoon was not to be used as a weapon and was instead to be used for putting food in one’s mouth, there was a knock on the door.
“Cor, another visitor,” Colin yelled, leaving his seat to run to the door.
“Colin, you do not leave the table without first asking permission,” Hero said but of course he ignored her. Following, she arrived in time to see him letting in two large men carrying boxes and ladders.
“May I help you?”
They tugged their caps.
“Lord Caruthers has asked us to come and fix your roof, Miss Appleby,” one of them said, “and any other repairs you have. If we could just walk through the house to the upper floors and decks, the job should be easier from up there.”
Something hot filled Hero's chest as the man spoke. Lord Caruthers had sent the men. Surely that meant he was going to help them. Remembering the way she had spoken to him, shame washed over her.
“Of course. Colin will show you the way.”
The second knock came a few minutes later and this time it was a local seamstress.
“Good day to you, Miss Appleby. Lord Caruthers has commissioned me to have new curtains made for the rooms you think require it, and clothing for the children and yourself.”
“I…I…” Hero couldn't speak because her throat was clogged with tears. He'd decided to help them, help her children and she was suddenly overcome.
“If I could just be given a room to work from, I can set myself up in there and will not need to traipse back and forth with bolts of cloth every day.” The woman had a round face and a warm smile and she looked at Hero expectantly.
“Oh, uh…”
“I’ll get you sorted, Mrs. Peddle. You come with me.”
Hero felt as if one of the children had yanked the rug out from under her feet as Mrs. Bonny stepped around her and lead the seamstress up the stairs.
“Seems like you was wrong about that Lord Caruthers, Hero.”
Looking down at Owen, Hero managed to nod.
“He’s a good un after all.”
“So it would seem, Owen.”
“You should write him to say thank you and then he’ll come back and talk about the king.”
Hero looked down at the boy standing still at her side. He didn’t usually like people coming to Bratton House. In fact, he often disappeared on the rare times they did. Yet, he wanted Lord Caruthers to come back.
“Did you like Lord Caruthers, Owen?”
He nodded but said nothing further. Something slipped into Hero’s head then, a vision of Lord Caruthers placing his hand on Owen’s head. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but now she remembered how the boy had not flinched from the contact, as he often did when she touched him.
“I’m not sure if he’ll come back or not, Owen, but I shall definitely invite him.”
“He’ll come,” the boy said as he went to open the door after another knock.
“I’ve a load of fresh vegetables and goods for your kitchens, Miss Appleby. If you'll show me the way, I'll get it put away for you.” Hero watched as Mr. Wallace stepped inside and stomped his feet on the doormat. She’d frequented his shop often, asking for anything he could give her at a good price. The man was a miserly sod, yet now he was all smiles. “Lord Caruthers has asked me to stock your pantry, Miss Appleby, so I've a wagon full out there and I don’t mind saying the weather is not improving none, so if you'll lead on—”
“Of course. Please follow me, Mr. Wallace. There is a door off the kitchen that will provide better access for you.”
He followed and was soon hefting an amazing amount of goods inside—more food than any of the occupants of Bratton House had ever seen.
The next hour was spent alternatively opening the door and pointing tradespeople in the right direction. When she opened it for the last time, she found a huge tree carried by two men.
“This here be a Christmas tree. Lord Caruthers said you and the children need to decorate it,” one of them said.
“Decorate it?” Hero stood to one side as they walked the tree into the house.
“Ooh, I’ve heard about this,” Mrs. Bonny said, coming down the stairs. “That Hannah Larking from the village said she heard they decorate trees for Christmas in Germany. She saw it when she went there.”
“What was Hannah Larking doing in Germany?” Hero said because really, what else could she say? Two men were at present wrestling a huge fir tree into position in her front entrance; it seemed the only
question to ask.
“Her grandfather was German.”
“What do we decorate it with?” Hero moved closer to the tree, intrigued now. The fresh scent was filling the air and she knew the children would love having it here.
“Strings of popcorn, pomanders made from fruit spiked with cloves and attached with lengths of ribbon, gingerbread men and cornucopias.”
“You seem very knowledgeable on the subject, Mrs. Bonny.”
“Hannah invited me around to her house one Christmas to see her tree.”
“Well then.” Hero heard the thunder of feet from above and seconds later her children were running down the stairs. “We’d best make a start.”
“You need to write that Lord Caruthers a note at once, Hero, thanking him,” Mrs. Bonny said, giving her a steady look.
“But what do I say in the face of such generosity?”
“Honesty is always the best policy, I find.”
Honesty. She could do that. In fact, she would do that.
“What’s that tree doing inside, Hero? You told us we weren’t allowed to bring branches in here.”
Mrs. Bonny took over the detailed explanation of the tree and its function, then told the children what they would need to decorate it, starting with items found in the kitchen. Hero said she would join them shortly and slipped away to her room to write the note.
She thanked Lord Caruthers profusely, again apologizing for her earlier behavior and told him the children were right now starting to decorate the fir tree. She finished with an invitation for him to join them on Christmas day to share their meal. Of course there was hope of him joining them, yet she had needed to offer just the same.
