“No, you will not. I must say you’re not acting very earl-like. Since when does a lord take care of his own horse?”
“I am not your typical earl,” he mumbled.
He was swaying more and more. A fall into the mud couldn’t be far off. He leaned on her as she led him to the small hut. She pushed open the door to find a one-room dwelling that was empty, cold and mercifully dry. She led him to a chair with some difficulty, then all but dropped him into it due to his weight.
“I shall be back directly to start the fire, but I should see to the horses.”
“I reckon they will be easier to handle than me.”
“At least they won’t argue with me,” she said, as she went back into the storm.
He wasn’t sure how it was possible, given the circumstances, but Nick had no choice but to laugh.
CHAPTER TEN
Kate was overwhelmed as she went back out into the storm to see to the horses, who were waiting patiently for her. If one of these had been Lord Layton’s mount originally, mayhap he never would have been thrown from his horse. They might at this very moment both be back in Weymouth warm and dry, with him at the inn and her at her cottage.
But they were both soaked through and about to spend the night together alone in a cottage in the middle of a storm.
She patted the horses as she led them both to a large shed which looked to be bigger than the hut. Her hands were so cold she could barely move her fingers, but she somehow unsaddled both of them. There was plenty of straw and several blankets, so whoever normally used this hut had been there recently. Whispering a prayer of thanks, she rubbed down both of the horses, then placed two blankets over each and led them to separate stalls. She gave them plenty of hay and water, along with a grateful rub on the nose, then hurried back to the hut.
She was surprised to find Lord Layton kneeling before the fireplace, where he had managed to start a fire which was burning brightly.
“You should be resting,” she said, as she stood in front of the fire, warming herself.
“It was bad enough that I allowed you to curry the horses. I couldn’t very well let you come back to a cold shelter.”
“While I appreciate the fire, I do not believe you ‘allowed’ me to do anything, my lord. I did everything I set out to do, of my own free will.”
“You sound like my sisters and my brothers’ wives.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
“I did not think lords appreciated ladies with good sense,” said Kate, as she reluctantly moved away from the fire in search of dry clothes and blankets.
“Most lords do not, which shows their lack of good sense. Personally, I cannot imagine sharing my life with a dullard. Life is too short when one has true love, but can seem interminable when alone or, even worse, married to the wrong person. Of course, none of it will matter if I succumb to this chill.”
“Do not say such a thing even in jest,” said Kate, as she rummaged through a trunk. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, simply a table and three chairs – one of which was missing part of a leg – two trunks and a bed that was low to the ground. Kate tried not to look at it, but was unsuccessful time and time again.
Her search of the trunk turned up dry clothing and blankets. She almost wept with relief. She was no longer just worried about his lordship’s health, but hers, as well.
“I have found clothing which seems clean and dry, though not as fashionable as an earl might require.” She held up a nightshirt made for a man considerably shorter than Lord Layton. She handed it to him, as well as a pair of cotton stockings. She blushed as she did so, knowing that he was about to take off his clothes and get into them.
“Hang fashion,” he said, even as he took the garments. “But are there no dry clothes for you?”
“I am afraid there is a duplicate set for me,” she said, as she held up a nightshirt even smaller than the first. She didn’t know how she would dare wear such clothing in front of him. But the practical side of her knew her modesty must give way to the very real possibility she could catch a fever and die.
They both could. And that spurred her to action. She needed to get him out of his wet clothes. “Sir, you must change into these garments. I fear additional delay could be detrimental to your health.”
“Then I am afraid I must ask another favor of you, Miss Winston. After you have changed into your dry clothes, I’ll need your assistance to get into mine. This jacket is the devil to take off even when it’s dry, if you’ll pardon my language once again. I cannot imagine trying to remove it when it’s wet.”
Kate did not want to even think about helping the man undress.
He cleared his throat again. “And if you require assistance getting out of your clothes, I am at your service.” Even in the dim light, her look of panic must have shown, for he added, “Fear not, Miss Winston, you shall be safe with me. I am a gentleman.”
“And you are likely too cold to make an advance. I should also add that I’ll not hesitate to hit you over the head with a skillet if you forget yourself. And since your head is in none too good of shape to begin with, I cannot imagine you would be anxious to add insult to injury. And by ‘insult’ I mean a clash with a skillet.”
He let out a bark of laughter, then winced from the pain to his head. “I am adequately warned. I shall turn my back to allow you to change.”
“No. We must attend to you first,” she said, nervous – and, admittedly, excited – by the very prospect. He might be a gentleman. But she was having thoughts no lady should entertain.
“I am too exhausted to argue,” he said. “Now, if you could please assist me with my jacket I would be most appreciative.”
As Kate approached him, he seemed to loom ever taller. “How shall I do this?” she asked, facing him.
“It is best to start on one side, then go around the back,” he said, as he held out his left arm.
Kate was almost afraid to touch him, as if she would melt into him and he’d have to take a skillet to her head. She shook off the fanciful thought – he was likely too weak to lift cast iron – then began the arduous process of peeling the form-fitting jacket from him. She discovered a body that was strong with muscle. She had never touched a man like this before. When dear Oscar had been ill, she had occasionally helped him sit up or stand. But she’d certainly never helped a young man in such robust health remove his clothing.
She had to tug to get the jacket off his shoulder. “Why do London gentlemen insist on having such tight clothes? Are you afraid someone will steal it off you?”
“I believe it is to justify the cost of having a valet.”
“Do you have a valet?”
“Are you applying for the position?”
“I was simply wondering what an earl is doing without one.”
“I’m not very earl-like.”
She finally succeeded in getting the sleeve off his shoulder. “That is the second time you have said that. Would you care to elaborate?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then would you care to tell me why you were attacked on the road? They obviously weren’t highwaymen since you are still in possession of your cravat pin which looks to be onyx.”
“I did not get the chance to ask them and they didn’t volunteer the information. But whoever it was wanted me injured, not dead. They had the opportunity to kill me but didn’t take it.”
“You must have some idea why someone would shoot you.”
He simply shrugged.
“Kindly hold your shoulders still, for this is already quite the arduous task. What happened in Dorchester?”
“I did not learn anything of note. The Revenue agent even warned me off.”
She tugged a bit harder on his other shoulder. “Perhaps that could explain why you were set upon.”
“Because of a Revenue agent? I hardly think it likely. He and his comrades were about to put out to sea.”
�
�In this weather? I doubt it. Someone could have seen you go in there and become suspicious of your intent.”
“Simply because I stepped foot in the customs house? Miss Winston, are you trying to remove my jacket or my arm?”
“My apologies, my lord,” said Kate, as she tugged one more time to have the jacket finally pull off his shoulder. “Now are you able to get out of the rest of these clothes and into the garments I gave you?”
“I shall give it my best attempt,” he said, as he began to loosen his soaked cravat.
“Not in front of me!” exclaimed Kate. It was one thing to have felt his body as she was helping him with his jacket. It would be quite another to see it, though honesty forced her to admit that it wouldn’t be a hardship to see the man unclothed.
“Where do you suggest I go?” he asked. “This is but one room without a screen. If I go outside, I will only become soaked once again. Perhaps you should look away.”
She could try, though she wasn’t certain she’d succeed in staying that way. “Perhaps we should both turn away from each other, since I also have to undress.”
She saw his eyes flare and she wasn’t certain if it was a sign of interest or fever. “Very well,” he said. “I shall turn around and not turn back until you tell me. Pray do not forget about me, Miss Winston, because I am dearly looking forward to sleeping in that bed.”
“Very well,” she said, as she turned and began unbuttoning her gown.
“Do you need assistance?” he asked from behind her.
That was the last thing she needed. “Thank you, no. I have never had a lady’s maid, so my gowns are practical in nature. I can easily do for myself.”
The air was cold as she peeled off her gown and dried herself with a blanket. She quickly donned the woolen leggings, which were much too large, and the nightshirt which fell below her knees but not to the floor. She felt scandalous to have her legs exposed, even if they were encased in scratchy wool.
She suddenly realized she was ravenously hungry.
“Is it safe to turn around?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She turned around to see him in the nightshirt which was so tight it stretched across his shoulders and chest. And it was so short it rested just above his knees, revealing bare legs.
She immediately turned back around. “You said it was safe to turn around, but you aren’t decent.”
“I am decent enough. While I am grateful for the nightshirt, it seems to have been made for a stripling rather than a grown man. I should also add that a man can be completely clothed but quite indecent. I am immodestly attired, but am, as promised, a gentleman. You can turn around now.”
She slowly turned around, but averted her eyes. “I brought food and was about to warm it by the fire.”
“Miss Winston, I was remiss in not thanking you for coming to my rescue. But now I find myself even deeper in your debt. I do not require warm food. I am certain anything you have would be delicious as it is.”
“Thank you, but I would like to warm it for my sake, sir,” she said, as she went in search of a pot. She was grateful for the activity to keep her mind off Lord Layton and his bare legs.
“Miss Winston, I believe we have moved past the point of such formalities. My friends call me Nick.”
“I could never call you that, sir. It is much too informal.”
“You could call me Layton.”
“I could call you Lord Layton.”
“What is your Christian name, Miss Winston?”
“There is no reason to know it since you shall be calling me Miss Winston.”
“Yet, I am curious just the same. I could be a dying man, Miss Winston. Will you not grant this small request?”
“You are not a dying man, Lord Layton. But my given name is Katherine, though I prefer to be called Kate.”
“Kate,” he said.
And the very sound of it on his lips warmed her more than the fire.
“Kate,” he repeated. “I like it very much. Now please call me Nick.”
“It would be most improper.”
“Yet, I would like it just the same. If it helps, you can go back to Lord Laytoning me tomorrow – though I wish you wouldn’t. But tonight, you and I are simply two….” He indicated the nightshirt. “Who do you think owns these clothes? What is their occupation?”
“I believe this is used to watch for storms, though in years past I believe it was the lookout for smugglers, to make sure the Revenue wasn’t going after the ships. They would then signal the smugglers to drop their cargoes, if necessary.”
Nick – Lord Layton – had a look of alarm. “Do you think smugglers will be returning tonight?” he asked.
“No, Lord Layton.”
“Nick.”
She sighed. “No, Nick. For the simple reason that only a fool would set sail knowing a storm was coming in. Whoever was here last is likely warm and dry in either Weymouth or Dorchester.”
“Because only a fool would venture out on a night like this?”
“Are you asking me to call you both ‘Nick’ and a ‘fool?’”
“Nick will suffice, thank you very much. So think of us as two storm watchmen or smugglers’ lookouts or what have you. They wouldn’t use formalities with each other, so you and I shall be Kate and Nick. Now, what about that meal?”
“When I rented the horses from the ostler, I also secured a kidney pie and bread.” She reached into the pocket of her cloak to pull out the wrapped meal. “It should take but a moment for me to warm them over the fire.”
“I shall forever be indebted to you, Kate.”
“Forever might not be too far off, Nick, if you do not warm yourself. And I would just as soon have you indebted to me for many years to come. Please get into bed.” She blushed when she saw his rakish smile, though how he managed it when he was so cold she hadn’t a clue.
“Why, Kate, you are being quite forward.”
“Nick, get into the bed to warm yourself before I knock you senseless with the skillet that would be better employed by heating this pie. When supper is ready, I will bring it to you.”
“If you insist. And, you do look most resolved,” he said, as he moved toward the bed. He stumbled a bit, then looked at her sheepishly. “I assure you that I am usually more adept in the bedchamber.”
“No doubt from practice. Please, Nick. Do as I say, for I am truly worried about you.”
She helped him cross the tiny room to the bed. She pulled back the quilt to find a surprisingly clean set of sheets. She helped him lie down, then pulled the quilt up and tucked it around him. “Rest here. I shall bring you the food when it is warm.”
“Kate, I am not a small child. You don’t have to tuck the covers about me.”
“I know you aren’t a child, but you are quite cold.”
“I can think of better ways to warm me.”
“But this is the one which will actually be employed.” She carefully probed the cut on his head. “It stopped bleeding.” She gently brushed her fingers through his hair. He looked surprisingly vulnerable in the firelight, lying on the bed. Perhaps his brush with death had affected him more than he was letting on.
“You have a gentle touch,” he said. “I believe you’d do well with children.”
“That would be a good trait for a governess.”
“It would also be a good trait for a mother.”
“But I am not very likely to become one.” She wanted to be a mother, yearned to have a family. But there was no one in Weymouth for her and her chance of marrying would decrease further still when she left the village to seek employment. She rose from the bed, not wanting him to see how much his words had affected her. She crossed the room and busied herself by finding a pot for the food, then placing it on a grate in the fire.
“Kate?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t suppose the lads left some brandy for us, did they?”
“No self-respecting fishermen would be without it, though wh
ether they left it behind remains to be seen.” She searched the lone cupboard, finding little but a few extra plates and some salted pork. Then she searched the trunk where she’d found the clothes, only to discover a bottle tucked in the back. “I feel bad drinking the spirits they took so much care to hide.”
“I do not,” said Nick, as he tried to get out of bed to take the bottle.
“Stop right there, sir. I will bring it to you,” she said, as she crossed to him and handed him the bottle. “I was going to take the time to find a glass.”
“Not needed,” he said, as he unstopped the bottle and sniffed appreciatively. “I believe I paid a great deal of money for brandy not nearly as good as this during the war. I shall happily empty the contents of my purse for our hosts.”
“Unfortunately, you cannot give them all your coins,” said Kate. “I’m afraid I had Mr. Peck charge the cost of the horses and the food to your account. I didn’t have enough money with me.”
“As it should be,” said Nick, as he took a sip of brandy, then let his appreciation show. He closed his eyes and put his head back. Kate didn’t know why, but she had an odd feeling in her midsection as she watched.
“May I?” she asked, as she held out a glass.
His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass from her, then poured two inches of brandy into it. Her hand trembled just the slightest from the contact as she raised the glass to her lips. He was looking at her intently. She took a sip and felt the warmth flow across her mouth.
“Do you feel the heat?” he asked.
For a moment, she wasn’t certain if he meant the warmth from the spirits or the way she felt with his eyes upon her. So all she did was nod. Then remembered to breathe.
Then she remembered the food and rushed to rescue it from the fire.
“I feel like the veriest cad for having you do all the work,” he said.
“Would you be helping me cook if you were well?”
“No one would want that, Kate. I am not much for cooking. But I could have at least found the brandy.”
“I shall survive, sir,” she said, as she transferred the food onto two small plates. She crossed to him. She handed him his plate, then stood beside the bed.
Always Believe in Love (Emerson Book 4) Page 10
