Damnation, how I envy you, Maxwell!
He could not take his eyes off her. His chest tight with feeling, he looked down at the top of her nose and fair cheek, and after a moment of long, careful hesitation, bent down and kissed her brow.
Her skin was smooth and sweet and soft. He shuddered, looked up—
—and saw two pretty girls standing at the side of the road with their ponies, giggling and pointing at him.
“My son,” Colin said, blushing furiously.
Their high laughter followed him.
“Bollocks,” he swore.
Shareb-er-rehh snorted.
“Yes, you would think it’s funny, damned horse!”
Lady Ariadne stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. But she did not lift her head from Colin’s shoulder. “What’s so funny?” she murmured, sleepily.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep or anything, do I? Or God forbid, drool. That would be quite ghastly and embarrassing, drooling.”
“You did not drool. And if you talked in your sleep, you spoke to yourself, because I did not hear you.”
“Mmmmm.” She closed her eyes, and belatedly, Colin realized he still had his arm around her back and shoulder. He leaned back and tried to pull his arm away.
“Dr. Lord . . . please don’t. I’m so comfortable . . .”
“This is unseemly.”
“Only if I deem it so. And I don’t. So please, let your arm stay where it was.”
He sighed, allowing her to take his arm and pull it about her like a blanket. Tightness coiled in his loins, and he mentally counted off how many days, how many more hours, he would have to put up with this sweet torture.
He looked down at her, but she was asleep once more.
“Heaven help me,” Colin said, and drew her close.
In a few days, she would belong to Maxwell.
But for the moment, she belonged to him.
CHAPTER 8
“I’m sorry, sir, but I ‘ave only one room left. Ye might try Mrs. Downing’s place back up the road a mile or two—sometimes she ‘as a few extra rooms, and would probably be able to take ye in. On second thought, yer horse—be it a mare or a gelding?”
“Stallion.”
“Oh, then forget that,” the innkeeper muttered, waving his liver-spotted old hand in dismissal. “Won’t put up a stallion, Mrs. Downing won’t. Husband got killed on one and she won’t ‘ave one in her stable. Says they’re too wild and unpredictable.” He straightened up, put a hand on his hip and with a twisted grimace, jerked the crick out of his back, allowing Ariadne to see beyond him and into the tavern. It was dark, gloomy, and low-ceilinged, with great beams and rafters darkened by centuries of pipe smoke; quite ordinary as taverns went, with lanterns cutting swaths of cheer through the smoky gloom, maids rushing around with plates of food, groups of men engaged in lively conversation. The pungent scent of smoke and greasy meat hung in the air like a fog. “Well,” the man said, impatiently. “I have one room left, take it or leave it.”
Ariadne saw her companion reach up to palm his brow and rake his hand back through his hair, making it stand on end before it tumbled haphazardly back into place. The veterinarian was tired—she could see it in the faint lines around his eyes, the grimace of pain he’d tried to hide when he’d stepped down from the chaise and, walking up to the door of this coaching inn, all but dragged his leg behind him.
“Thank you, but I think we’ll continue on and see what’s up the road a bit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and turning to leave.
Ariadne caught his arm.
“Nonsense,” she said, counting out some coins and pressing them into the innkeeper’s hand. “This is the third coaching inn we’ve tried tonight, and yours is the only room to be had. My poor . . . brother is very tired. We’ll take the room.”
“But—”
“Now Colin, don’t argue with me. I’m right this time, and you know it. Sir? If you’ll be so kind as to show us where your stable is so we can tend to our horse?”
“Let me get the ostler and ‘e’ll take care of ’im—”
“That is very kind of you, but we would prefer to do it ourselves,” Ariadne said.
The innkeeper knotted his receding brow and regarded them thoughtfully, then dropped the coins into his pocket. Turning, he cupped his hands over his mouth. “Meg! Guests! Show ‘em where the stable is, would ye?” He turned back to them. “Take care of yer horse, and by the time ye get back in I’ll have a good supper on the table, waiting for ye.”
A serving maid, wiping her hands on her apron, sauntered around the corner, looking over her shoulder and laughing at something someone had said back in the kitchen. She was buxom and pretty in a rustic sort of way, with yellow curls tumbling about her shoulders and blue eyes that were alive with humor.
She shot a ribald report back to the unknown person in the kitchen.
And then she saw Colin Lord.
The narrowing of the eyes, the sudden, silky smile, the passing of the tongue over the full lips—Ariadne saw it all, and was filled with a sudden, unreasonable, sense of irritation.
“Right this way . . . gentlemen,” the woman said huskily, casting a long, assessing look at Ariadne’s companion. Then she picked up a lantern and glided past him, looking coyly over her shoulder to make sure he was following.
Totally unaware of and completely oblivious to the serving maid’s interest in him, the veterinarian merely removed the spectacles he’d donned earlier in an attempt to rest his tired eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and followed the woman out of the inn.
“Methinks you have an admirer,” Ariadne said, a bit more sharply than she intended, as he put the spectacles back on.
“I beg your pardon?” He stopped and looked at her, his eyes confused behind his glasses.
Ariadne jerked her head toward the serving maid, who was several strides ahead of them and rolling her hips exaggeratedly as she walked. “I sincerely doubt that brazen display is for my benefit!”
The doctor frowned, looking more confused than ever. “Oh. Her. I hadn’t noticed.”
Ariadne grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. “Never mind. I swear, Dr. Lord, you’re as blind as a bat sometimes!”
They followed Meg outside, and across the drive to the darkened stables. The wind had become gusty, the summer air heavy and charged. As they approached the stable, a cat melted out of the darkness and wound itself around Colin’s ankles, mewing plaintively and gazing up at him with adoring, feline eyes. He reached down to pick it up while Meg unlocked the door.
“Looks like rain,” Meg grunted, wrestling with the latch. Then she spotted the tortoiseshell cat in Colin’s arms, and her eyes widened with surprise. “Well, would ye look at that! Gemma ‘ere never goes to anyone, ‘specially strangers!”
“Dr. Lord has a way with animals,” Ariadne said, flatly.
“I should say he does,” Meg murmured, letting her gaze wander up and down his body in a heated caress that he, still petting the cat, never even noticed. “Bet he’s got one with the ladies, too.”
That comment caught the veterinarian’s attention. He looked up and, despite his fatigue, managed a broad, engaging smile that had Ariadne bristling in annoyance and feeling like a third wheel. He stood cradling the cat in his arms as the servant dragged open the door, then, giving the feline a last fond rub behind the ears, carefully put it down and went to get the stallion. The cat ran after him, following worshipfully at his heels, meowing, and nearly tripping him.
“What happened to yer brother?” Meg purred, leaning against the stable door while they waited for Colin to return with Shareb-er-rehh. “Such a pity, that limp.”
“He was in the War.”
“Fine lookin’ man. Too bad he’s a cripple.”
Ariadne stiffened and bestowed a withering glare on the other woman. “He is not a cripple. He’s capable and confident and I’ll thank you not to demean him so.”
“
Don’t get so huffy, little boy, I was merely making an observation,” the wench said, her voice a husky, sultry thing that grated on Ariadne’s nerves. “In fact, ye can tell yer handsome sibling that I rather fancy him . . . limp or not.”
“Yes, well, you can fancy him all you wish, but he’s taken. He already has a lady friend.”
Now why on earth had she said that? The other woman laughed, obviously unfazed.
“Is that so? Well, I’m sure he won’t mind . . . another.”
There was nothing that Ariadne, in her role as “little brother,” could say without drawing suspicion to herself, and so she raised her chin and bit her tongue and dug her nails into her palms to keep her angry retort at bay. She hated herself for feeling so possessive about something—or rather, someone—who didn’t belong to her. She had no claim on Colin Lord. For heaven’s sake, he was just a servant! Yet why did she feel this red shaft of jealousy?
Shareb’s smart hoofbeats heralded his approach out of the darkness, and Colin had barely gotten him into the stable and unhooked from the chaise before the skies opened up in earnest, the rain hammering against the roof at such a volume that talk was impossible. As the other horses turned their heads to watch his arrival, Shareb-er-rehh’s sulky attitude immediately vanished, as though he’d been humiliated by pulling the vehicle and had just been released from a terrible burden. He whinnied softly, and each horse in the stable stared at him as he passed, tail high, neck arched, nostrils flaring with self-importance.
Ahead, Meg walked with the lantern, leading them down the gloomy aisle, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to smile invitingly at Dr. Lord. She had regarded Shareb-er-rehh’s oversized saddle cloth and bandaged legs rather dubiously, and Ariadne hoped that the disguise did not call suspicion down on all of them.
She saw the veterinarian watching her from above Shareb’s withers, the lantern light gilding his fair hair.
“Go inside, little brother. I’ll see to the horse.”
And leave him to Meg? “No. I’ll stay and help.”
He merely grinned, causing her to suspect that he knew exactly why she chose to stay.
It was infuriating.
Meg paused outside an empty stall, and jerked her head to indicate it for the stallion’s use. As Dr. Lord led Shareb inside, the woman let her eyes rake appreciatively over his back, his face, his form. Again, Ariadne felt the hot lance of jealousy.
She raised her chin. “We have no further need of your services, save for supper and a good breakfast in the morning. Good night.”
Meg looked startled, then indignant, at Ariadne’s unexpectedly haughty tone. “My, such airs,” she commented, and giving the veterinarian a last, inviting look that he never noticed, turned on her heel and strode angrily out of the stable.
Ariadne went into the narrow stall. Her companion was removing the harness, looking down at Shareb’s sweat-dampened hide, and smiling a private grin.
“Care to tell me what you find so funny?” she snapped.
“Not really.”
She reached up and straightened the saddle cloth into which was sewn more money than he’d ever see in his lifetime. “Here we go, more secrets.”
“Forgive me, my lady, but you seemed almost . . . jealous.”
“What, of that overblown rose? Hardly!”
“She didn’t look so overblown to me. In fact, I thought she was rather pretty.”
“I’m sure you could do much better.”
“You really think she fancied me?”
“Well she did issue you an open invitation to her bed. Maybe you ought to take her up on it, might do you some good.”
He raised one brow; then, his eyes twinkled, and his mouth turned up in that helpless, crooked grin that she didn’t know whether to love or hate. Ariadne swung away, her face flaming, and busied herself with unbuckling the harness. “Very well, then,” she admitted, sullenly. “Maybe I was a little bit jealous. I mean, angry. But I disliked that woman, and I disliked the way she was looking at you. She had no right.”
“And you do?”
“I’m . . . paying you!”
“Oh, that’s right. You own me. How dreadful of me to have forgotten.”
“Dr. Lord.”
“Yes?” he said, innocently.
“Mind your impertinent manners.”
He grinned, tied the lead rope to a ring bolted to the wall, and put the harness in the chaise. “Yes, my lady,” he said in an exaggeratedly grave, deep voice. “Anything you say, my lady.” He scowled down at her until her frown faded to a helpless smile, then offered his elbow with a gallant flourish. “Come, let Shareb and Bow have their suppers and let us go have ours, and perhaps after a good night’s sleep we’ll both feel better in the morning.”
“Oh, how do you put up with me?”
“With patience and delight,” he said honestly, and then, before she could question him on such a remark, he led her out of the stable and through the rainy darkness.
# # #
Supper was a fine steak and kidney pie served with roast potatoes, parsnip, and swede, accompanied by a loaf of hot, freshly baked bread, creamy butter, a wedge of aged cheddar, and plenty of ale to wash it all down. Respectful of her companion’s aversion to eating flesh, Ariadne traded her vegetables for his slab of pie. She held off on the spirits this time, and when Meg brought deep dishes of apple cobbler topped with cream for dessert, she set her mind to thinking up a way to sneak her portion out to the stable so she could give it to Shareb-er-rehh.
God forbid if the stallion didn’t get his nightly dose of pastry and ale. He’d be an absolute demon come morning.
She pretended to toy with the cobbler, and shot a quick glance up through her lashes at the veterinarian. His face was golden in the glow from the lantern, his hair rumpled, but tired as he looked, those clear, keen eyes of his were alert and awake.
And on her.
He smiled, and looked at her from over the rim of his tea cup. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?”
“Bringing that cobbler out to the horse.”
She widened her eyes and with a guilty little laugh, plunged her fork into the crumbly topping. “Be serious, Dr. Lord, do you think I could just put it in my pocket? What a mess it would make, with all this cream and sticky juice.” She smiled innocently up at him. “Why, I’d soil my clothing!”
He looked at her for a dubious moment before sighing heavily and shoving his half-finished cobbler away. Then he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and sat staring down at the table, too tired to trade banter with her.
“Dr. Lord?”
He looked up. “Yes?”
Ariadne took a bite of her dessert and dabbed delicately at her mouth. “Is it past your bedtime?”
“It’s been a long day.”
Both of them looked down at their dessert bowls, thinking about the bedroom that awaited them upstairs, and neither quite willing to bring up the subject of sleeping arrangements. A minute dragged past. Two. Ariadne glanced up and saw that the doctor’s head was drooping, his beautiful, long lashes starting to slip down over his eyes, and that he was fast on his way to falling asleep in his chair.
“Dr. Lord!” she said, sharply.
He jerked his head up, blinking.
Ariadne got to her feet. “Despite the fact that both of us feel rather awkward about this situation—”
“Well, one of us does, anyhow—”
“I see no reason to delay it any longer. Come, let us go upstairs. If we both sleep with our clothes on and don’t share the bed, there is nothing unseemly about it.”
But Colin wasn’t thinking about the unseemliness of the situation. He was thinking how lovely and desirable his companion looked, and wondering how the devil he would be able to pass a night with her in the same room, not just any room, but a damned bedroom, for God’s sake. He rested his elbows on the table, then reached up to knead his aching nape, trying to massage away the stiffness caused
by Shareb’s ceaseless pulling.
She was already on her feet, beckoning him with a practiced motion of her hand to rise and follow her. Too tired to protest, Colin got up, threw down his napkin, and limped painfully after her. They passed the landlord’s old dog, sprawled before the hearth, and headed for the stairs, she marching like a general and he all but dragging his leg behind him. The other patrons had long since gone to bed, and each step creaked loudly beneath them.
At the end of a short corridor was their room, and with no small degree of trepidation, Ariadne pushed open the door. The chamber was small, cozy, alarmingly intimate—and dominated by the bed.
She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her bravado and poise, and glanced at her companion. But he’d already turned and was headed toward the door.
“I think it best if I sleep in the stable.”
She sidestepped so he couldn’t pass. “No, no, Dr. Lord, I should.”
“Nonsense. You’re an earl’s daughter, for God’s sake, you can’t be sleeping in a stable.”
“The good Lord not only slept in a stable, He was born in one. If He can sleep in a stable, then so can I. You stay here, and take the bed. You’re far more tired than I am.”
“No, I must protest. As a gentleman, I insist that you take the bed.”
“As your employer, I insist that you do.”
“You hired me to look after your horse. Therefore, I will sleep in the stable with Shareb and Bow, and I’ll hear no more argument on the subject. Good night, my lady. I shall see you in the morning.”
He strode past her in a gait that belied the pain his leg must be causing him, leaving her staring after him with her jaw agape. In his wake, the room suddenly felt lonely, empty, and cold, and Ariadne waited just long enough to hear his tread on the stairs before she went marching after him.
“Dr. Lord,” she announced, watching his broad back as he went down the stairs, “you’ll not have the final word about this!”
“I just did.”
“You just think you did! I shall not let the matter rest here, do you hear me? I won’t!”
Danelle Harmon Page 10
