Andrew and Nathan turned hopeful eyes to Hayley. "Today, Hayley? Please?"
"Tomorrow, my good knights. No searching for the Holy Grail until we finish our lessons and chores."
Andrew and Nathan groaned, but prepared for the remainder of their lessons. Stephen observed Hayley's teaching methods with interest. She started Nathan composing a short story, invented a half-dozen complicated mathematical problems for Andrew, then instructed Callie to draw pictures of objects using every letter of the alphabet. Last, she discussed various household items with Pamela while they set up their picnic lunch. It was certainly different from the strict lessons he'd received at the hands of his forbidding private tutors.
Did this woman do anything in the conventional way? Damn it, no. She didn't. And he was beginning to suspect that was part of her appeal.
When the children finished their assignments, everyone clamored onto the quilt to eat. Hayley passed out plates of cold meat pies, chicken, fish, and cheese while Pamela cut thick slices of bread.
After the children had been served, Hayley turned to him. "I hope you're hungry, Mr. Barrettson."
"Starved," Stephen assured her, reminding himself they were discussing lunch.
"What sort of chicken do you care for?" she asked, peering into the hamper. "I have three thighs, one leg, and two wings."
"Indeed? You must have a devil of a time getting clothes to fit."
At first she seemed puzzled by his words, then, as their meaning sank in, she blushed bright red. "I didn't mean-"
"I was teasing you, Hayley," he said softly, feeling more lighthearted than he had in years. He reached around her, grabbed a chicken leg, and bit into the meat with gusto. "Delicious," he proclaimed, giving her a broad wink. By damn, being a tutor was great fun.
Leaning toward her, Stephen said, "You're blushing, Hayley. Just as you did when you said your name means 'from the hay meadow.'" He paused and lowered his gaze pointedly to her mouth. "I believe we know each other well enough now for you tell me why the meaning of your name brings such color to your cheeks."
Glancing around, he saw that Andrew and Nathan were engrossed in the unlikely combination of activities of eating meat pies and catching a grasshopper. Pamela and Callie sat on the far end of the huge quilt, eating and laughing at Andrew and Nathan's antics. "This is as alone as we'll ever be in such a crowd. Tell me," he urged.
Amusement gleamed in her eyes. "I don't want to shock you."
He waved his chicken leg with a flourish. "I am completely unshockable, I assure you."
"Very well, but don't say you weren't warned. It's an Albright family tradition to name the children in commemoration of the place or circumstances surrounding their, er, conception.
Stephen stared at her for several heartbeats as understanding dawned. "You mean your parents-"
"Precisely. In a hay meadow. I'm deeply grateful there was no stream nearby or I might have been christened something truly horrid like 'Atwater' or 'Riverhead.'"
"Indeed." A deep chuckle rumbled through him. "I must admit, I'm now curious about the origins of the other children's names."
She raised her brows. "You're certain you're unshockable?"
"Positive."
"All right. Pamela means 'made from honey.' Papa brought Mama a porcelain jar back from a voyage, and…" Her voice trailed off.
Stephen suppressed a laugh. "Say no more. I quite understand."
"Nathan means 'gift from God' and was chosen because my parents had prayed for a boy. Andrew means 'manly,' chosen by Mama because she said Papa was, er, manly." She coughed into her hand. "And Callie means 'the most beautiful,' again chosen by Mama to commemorate her, um, night with Papa."
Stephen wasn't sure what amused him more-her outrageous story or the ever growing crimson staining her cheeks. Their eyes met and his mirth faded, replaced by an overpowering desire to touch her. To kiss her. All the promises he'd made himself last evening fled his mind, his resolve melting like sugar in hot tea.
For the first time in years he had absolutely nothing to do but sit on a quilt by a lake and nibble on chicken legs, and by damn he was enjoying himself. All the cares and responsibilities he shouldered were miles away for the time being. An unprecedented sense of peace washed over him.
He shouldn't be flirting with Hayley, but he couldn't help himself. His gaze fixed on her wide aqua eyes and a slow grin curved one corner of his lips.
He ran a lazy fingertip across her flushed cheek. She drew in a quick breath and her lips parted slightly, drawing his attention. The need to taste her again was quickly overpowering his common sense. Leaning closer, he whispered, "Your skin turns the most fascinating shade when-"
"Hayley!" Callie's voice broke in. "May I have some cider?"
Hayley gasped. Disappointment flooded him. Jerking back from his hand, she focused her attention on pouring Callie some cider and the moment was lost.
Pamela rejoined them, helping herself to another slice of bread. "What age are the children you tutor, Mr. Barrettson?" she asked.
He forced his gaze from Hayley's tempting mouth. "The young man I was in charge of recently went off to Eton, thus ending my employment," he improvised smoothly. "I am scheduled to begin with another family next month."
"Where does the family live?" Callie asked. "I hope it is near Halstead so we can see you often." Her huge eyes looked at him with a hopeful expression.
Stephen's light mood sobered a bit. Once he left Halstead, he doubted he would ever see the Albrights again. His life was almost exclusively in London or his country estate, Glenfield Manor, which was situated several hours from London in the opposite direction of Halstead. He and the Albrights moved in completely different social circles. No, he was unlikely ever to see them again.
"I'm afraid the family lives very far from Halstead, Callie," he answered. The hopeful light faded from her eyes, yanking something tender in his heart.
"Oh," Callie said, clearly crestfallen. Then her expression brightened. "Perhaps you can come to visit us. Hayley promised me a party for my birthday next month. Would you like to come? We'll have a grand tea party with cakes and cookies."
Stephen was saved from answering by a loud bark. He turned and gaped, watching as three huge dogs-or were they small, barking, horses?-emerged from the woods and barreled toward the group at breakneck speed. He made a halfhearted attempt to stand, but Hayley laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"I wouldn't get up if I were you," she warned in a laughing voice. "It is only inviting them to knock you down."
"What the hell are they?" Stephen eyed the approaching beasts distrustfully. "They looked as if they could eat Callie in one gulp. And they're nearly upon us."
"They're our pets. Oh, I know they look intimidating, but they're gentle as lambs. Just sit still and let them smell you. You'll be the best of friends in no time."
Stephen didn't have a chance to reply. The three dogs descended, tongues lolling, tails wagging, and chaos reigned. The beasts alternately gobbled every morsel of food on the quilt, licked the Albright children, and barked in a deafening fashion. Stephen sat perfectly still, praying that the monster smelling his ear wouldn't decide to make an hors d'oeuvre out of it.
"May I present our dogs, Winky, Pinky, and Stinky," Hayley said, trying without much success to smother a grin. "Boys, this is Mr. Barrettson, our guest. I expect you to treat him with the utmost courtesy and gentleness."
The beast directly in front of Stephen had only one eye. "This, I take it, is Winky?" he guessed, casting a sidelong glance at Hayley.
"Yes. Poor Winky lost an eye several years ago. And this is Pinky. Callie named him that because he had no fur when he was a puppy, only pink skin."
Stephen refrained from pointing out that Pinky did not have much hair now. He was easily the most moth-eaten character Stephen had ever set eyes on.
The third big beast came up to Stephen, thrust its snout in his face, and barked once. Without a doubt this animal was Stinky. The
stench of his breath nearly choked Stephen. Then, before he could stop the beast, it swiped the entire side of his face with a stinking, slimy tongue.
"Come on boys!" Nathan and Andrew shouted. They picked up sticks and headed for the lake shore. Several seconds later the dogs ran into the water, eagerly fetching the pieces of wood.
"Do you need a handkerchief?" Hayley asked, staring pointedly at his wet face.
Stephen touched his fingers to his cheek. "Actually, I think a bath is more in order," he said dryly. If Sigfried saw him now, the formidable valet would succumb to apoplexy-immediately after he condemned those dogs to death.
"Wait here. I'll wet a napkin for you."
She walked to the shore, bent over, and dipped one end of a linen napkin into the lake.
"Hayley! Look out!"
Andrew's warning came too late.
Just as Hayley straightened, one of the beasts jumped up and placed its huge front paws on her shoulders.
Hayley, clearly unprepared for the dog's enthusiastic greeting, lost her footing. She fell backward and landed with a wet splash in the water, the huge dog standing on top of her, wagging its tail and licking her face.
Stephen jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain the sudden movement caused in his tender ribs, and raced to the shore.
"Stop it, you crazy canine!" Andrew yelled, giving the beast an unceremonious shove. The dog lavished Hayley's face with one last swipe of its tongue and jumped off, racing down the shore with his cohorts following in a frenzy.
By the time Stephen reached the shore, Andrew and Nathan had helped her up and were leading her out of the water. Stephen skidded to a halt, and stared.
She was soaked, head to foot. Her hair lay plastered against her scalp, bits of leaves clinging to the strands. Flecks of mud marked her face, like dirty freckles against her pale skin.
Black mud streaked her gown, which clung to her body like a second skin. Stephen's gaze wandered down her length, his imagination easily conjuring up the perfection of her curves under the wet material. His nostrils twitched as he caught a whiff of her. She stunk to high heaven. Obviously Stinky was the culprit. His eyes traveled back to her face and he froze, stunned by what he saw.
He'd fully expected her to be outraged. Any woman of his acquaintance, including his normally sweet-natured sister, would be furious and apoplectic over such an incident.
Hayley was smiling.
"Are you all right?" Pamela asked, holding Callie by the hand.
Hayley laughed and looked down at herself. "Well, I look like the very devil, and smell even worse, but other than that I'm fine." She shot a sheepish look at Stephen. "Did I mention that the dogs are somewhat high-strung?"
Several other words to describe those filthy beasts sprang to Stephen's mind, but before he had a chance to utter them, the dogs bounded back at full gallop, tongues lolling. The three beasts surrounded the group and simultaneously shook themselves, showering sprays of muddy water in all directions. Then they took off in a tear, disappearing into the woods.
Stephen looked at his soaked shirt and wiped the water drops from his face with his wet sleeve. "High-strung, did you say?" he asked, surveying the rest of the group. They were all wet and bedraggled, especially little Callie, who was nothing short of drenched.
"Perhaps 'overly enthusiastic' is a better term," Pamela suggested with a giggle, pushing her wet hair from her face.
"How about zealous?" Andrew said with a grin.
"Mentally unbalanced is actually more accurate," Stephen muttered, shaking his head.
Nathan turned beseeching eyes to his bedraggled sister. "Can we dunk in the water, Hayley? Please? We're already all wet."
Stephen thought Hayley was going to refuse, but he watched a mischievous gleam sparkle in her eyes. She lifted her sodden skins to her knees.
"Last one in is a wart-nosed goblin!" she shouted.
The rest of the Albrights, including Pamela, who until that moment Stephen had believed fairly sane, splashed into the lake. Nathan performed a belly-flop dive, sending a sheet of water over everyone as he dunked beneath the surface. Stephen stood on the shore, half amused, half horrified by their exuberant, uninhibited behavior. They tossed water at each other, flinging Shakespearean insults back and forth.
"Your 'offence is rank, it smells to heaven!'" Splash!
"'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!'" Splash!
"'My nose is in great indignation!'" Splash!
"'You have a blasting and scandalous odor!'" Splash!
Stephen shook his head in amazement. They were all candidates for Bedlam. But damn it, their hilarity was contagious. Throwing his head back, he laughed until his sides ached. He just couldn't help himself. The group of them, from the supposedly adult Hayley down to little Callie, were soaked, bedraggled and obviously enjoying themselves to the limit.
"Mr. Barrettson! Mr. Barrettson! You're the wart-nosed goblin!" Callie ran to Stephen and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. "Come on! You're missing all the fun!"
Stephen hesitated. Frolic about in a lake? In one's clothes? He'd never done anything so undignified in his entire life. It was one thing to watch them and quite another to participate.
Callie tugged again. "Don't be afraid, Mr. Barrettson. It's only water."
He drew himself up. "I'm not afraid."
Leaning closer, she confided in an undernote, "If Winston were here, he'd say 'get yer bloody self wet. Yer arse won't melt.' That's what he tells Andrew and Nathan when they don't want to take their baths."
A bark of horrified laughter nearly choked him. Half appalled, half amused, he shifted his feet and debated if he should correct her. Callie clearly interpreted the movement as a sign of capitulation. She yanked on his hand, and he gave in. What the hell. No one will ever know. He allowed Callie to pull him forward into the lake. The instant he joined the others, a wall of water hit him in the face, shocking him, leaving him sputtering.
"Oops!" Hayley flashed him an unrepentant grin. Determined to regain his dignity, Stephen issued a low growl and plunged his hands into the water, and splashed for all he was worth. His bruised ribs protested the movement, but he ignored the discomfort, intent on regaining his honor. Callie and Andrew sided with Stephen against Nathan, Pamela, and Hayley, and soon all-out war was waged.
After nearly half an hour Hayley called a cease-fire. "Halt!" she gasped, puffing with exertion.
Stephen remained bent over, arms beneath the surface of the water, ready to pounce. His eyes narrowed on the opposing troops. "Are you surrendering?"
"Yes. I give up. I can't go on," Hayley said, pushing her soaking hair from her forehead.
"Nor I," panted Pamela.
"But, Hayley!" protested Nathan. "I'm not ready to surrender."
Hayley rumpled the boy's hair. "Part of being a successful leader is knowing when you're beaten. We shall be victorious next time."
"We accept your surrender," Stephen said solemnly. The opposing forces shook hands all around and sloshed out of the water, laughing and dripping.
They'd just reached the shore when a man's voice came from beyond the thick copse of trees.
"Hello? Is that you, Miss Albright?"
Everyone's attention focused on a group of people emerging from the forest.
"Good heavens, Hayley, it's Dr. Wentbridge," Pamela gasped in a distressed undertone. "Whatever will he think when he sees me in such a state? Oh dear."
"Come quickly." Hayley grabbed Pamela's hand and hurried her back to the quilt. She yanked the blanket from the ground and vigorously shook the leaves from it. "We cannot do anything about your hair, but at least we can hide your gown." Hayley wrapped the quilt around Pamela, brushed a soggy curl from her sister's wet, flushed face, then turned to greet the newcomers.
Stephen and the young Albrights joined Hayley and Pamela just as two gentlemen and a woman approached. When the newcomers were several yards away, they paused.
"Miss Albright!" said the shorter man. "
What manner of tragedy has befallen you?"
Stephen looked the speaker up and down. He was a handsome young man with light brown hair and concerned blue eyes. Stephen noticed the young man's gaze settle on Pamela, who immediately flushed a delicate shade of pink. Turning his attention back to Hayley, Stephen was surprised that her face appeared pale and that she remained uncharacteristically silent. Her attention was focused on the other gentleman in the trio.
The other young man was also quite handsome, with blond hair and light blue eyes. Stephen stiffened when he saw him scrutinize the way Hayley's wet gown clung to her curves. His gaze flicked to the woman standing between the two men. She was quite attractive, in a petulant sort of way.
Hayley cleared her throat. "We were playing with the dogs and ended up in the lake, I'm afraid."
"How unfortunate, but so very like you, Hayley dear," the woman said, her small nose wrinkling. Stephen watched her haughty gaze wander over the group and come to rest on him. Her hazel eyes grew round with surprise, then narrowed with interest. "I believe some introductions are in order, Hayley," the supercilious beauty murmured, her eyes taking in every aspect of Stephen's wet appearance and apparently liking what she saw.
"Introductions?" Hayley followed the woman's glance and saw Stephen. "Oh, yes, of course. This is Mr. Stephen Barrettson from London. He is our guest for the next several weeks." Hayley nodded toward the woman. "Mr. Barrettson, may I present Mrs. Lorelei Smythe, a neighbor from the village," she intoned without a lick of enthusiasm.
Stephen bowed formally over the woman's extended hand. "A pleasure, Mrs. Smythe."
"Indeed, Mr. Barrettson," Mrs. Smythe agreed in a silky voice, her knowing eyes once again traveling down Stephen's wet length.
Hayley continued her introductions. "This is Dr. Marshall Wentbridge, another neighbor from the village. Marshall recently finished his studies and is now a physician. He paid a visit when you were ill."
Marshall Wentbridge extended his hand to Stephen in a friendly fashion. "I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Mr. Barrettson. You've obviously already met Winky, Pinky, and Stinky," he said with a wry twist of his lips.
Red Roses Mean Love Page 12
