UnexpectedChristmas

by Jean Hart Stewart

  “Even so, someone tried to get in both our locked doors last night. I would have taken care of him if he’d persisted. This is not a safe place for any girl, let alone one as beautiful as you.”

  She flushed as she recognized her own disordered state and her flowing hair. It took her only a moment to regain her composure. She gathered her hair and flung it over one shoulder. When she did raise her eyes she looked around with contemplation.

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry, sir. My name is Atterby. Caroline Atterby. I thank you for helping me last night. But why is the inn so quiet? This time of day there should at least be a cook bustling around the kitchen. Shouldn’t someone have come running with the unseemly racket I was making?”

  My dear God, not only beauty but also self-possession and a sharp mind.

  He stilled, not moving a muscle as he listened. There was no noise at all. No sound of the innkeeper scurrying around, cleaning up from the night before. No chatter from downstairs. No sign of clatter coming from the kitchen or of anyone preparing to serve the guests breakfast.

  “And I’m Sebastian Trantern. Something is very strange. I’ll go investigate.”

  As he wheeled to go she caught his sleeve.

  “I’m going too.”

  He saw no way to stop her peacefully. He hoped the inn was truly empty and he’d be the only one privileged to see her rare beauty.

  They descended the stairs together, not saying a word. The barroom had not been well-cleaned. The dirty glasses had been removed but the room itself had not been touched. Chairs were still overturned and litter cluttered. The fire in the big fireplace was down to embers. The kitchen held no sign of recent activity. Dishes and tumblers were piled in the big sink. No sign of breakfast having been prepared or served to anyone.

  The silence seemed to reverberate as they both gazed and came to the same conclusion.

  They were alone in an abandoned inn.

  Caroline spoke first, in a voice that shook.

  “We’ve been deserted. We’re alone with no servants and it looks like it’s been snowing heavily all night. I can’t believe the innkeeper left nothing but a note for us. And I would guess we have no way to leave.”

  Sebastian had been prowling the room. He soon came back to her, a slip of paper in his hand.

  “This was left by the stove. Shall I read it to you?”

  “Yes, please.” Her voice was not quite so hostile and he began to read.

  “I’ve received word my wife is going into labor. I don’t know what I can do for her but I have to go. It’s doubtful we can even get a message to the local doctor. I’ve done what I can for you, my lord. But I must leave. Wood is stacked outside the kitchen door. I advise you not to let the fire go out. The path to the jakes has been cleared daily so you can still get there, although with this amount of snow it will need shoveling again when you wake up. I’m sure the roads will clear in a day or so. I’ll be back or send someone as soon as I can.”

  “That’s all?”

  Her questioning voice was steady. He could almost see her marshalling her resources.

  “Yes. From the state of the fire, I’d best go see about bringing in more wood. What a damnable development.”

  Her eyes met his steadily. She’d not even flinched when he mentioned using the jakes.

  “But your horse, sir? Surely you can saddle him and ride for help.”

  He shook his head. “I sent my valet off with my horses, Trujax and Suleiman, to find better quarters for both of them than this stable. I can only hope they did. Trujax has been with me for years.”

  Seeing her eyes lighten with amusement, he added hastily, “Of course I’m concerned about Bates too, you regrettable girl.”

  She grinned and turned away.

  “I’ll go get more appropriately dressed and be down to see what the larder contains.”

  Without another word she ran up the stairs.

  Sebastian’s eyes followed her. What an unusual female. Instead of having to spend time consoling her, he found he’d better match her pragmatic attitude. Forget the indisputable effect she had on his unruly cock. They had to work together to survive.

  This was definitely not the time to linger on licentious thoughts of the beautiful girl running up the steps. Even in motion she was graceful and appealing. That well-rounded bottom was a delight.

  He wanted above all else to go after her. Indeed he did. Not to catch her but to get decently dressed himself. He’d better concentrate on the not-so-simple act of keeping them both alive.

  To think he’d survived Waterloo only to be facing death by freezing in a disreputable inn.

  Fate was inscrutable.

  With a sigh, he went out to check the woodpile.

  And found it, as expected, covered by about eight inches of snow from the night’s storm. Well, they could expect no help today from anyone but themselves. He’d better bring the embers in the fireplace back to life and get the damn inn warmed up. He’d hate to think of trying to start a new fire. That would make matters infinitely worse.

  At least the snow had stopped sometime during the night.

  He set to work, carrying in a few logs and arranging the smaller ones on dying embers. Resigned to necessity, he flexed his arms and began to use the nearby bellows. He watched as the air fanned a few sparks.

  After all, what else was there to do except to, quite literally, live through this?

  * * * * *

  Caroline found the food in the larder adequate but decidedly monotonous. Eggs, several loaves of bread, slices of ham, a huge chunk of cheese and a handful of carrots. Probably there was a food cellar outside, buried in snow and inaccessible. At least they wouldn’t starve. There was a goodly supply of coffee bean, but no milk, and she saw only one full jug in the kitchen.

  She grabbed a kettle and headed for the back door. Best to bring in some snow to melt. Water was the prime necessity. As she opened the door she saw Sebastian, wielding a shovel and attacking the drifts from the previous night. He’d not put on his greatcoat and had stripped off his jacket. As his shoulders and arms began to use the shovel she could see the powerful muscles under his shirt. His corded chest and abdomen strained when he heaved snow to the side of the path.

  As he threw the shovelful up and onto the snowbank that was higher than his head, she stood transfixed. No matter what else she thought of him, he was the most handsome specimen of sheer virile manhood she’d ever seen. Actually, the most she’d even dreamed of. He was magnificent. Simply magnificent. Not that she was prey to such blatant perfection.

  He seemed to feel her presence and he turned around and grinned.

  “I love physical activity, even if it’s something this prosaic. I seldom get a chance to actually indulge. This feels good.”

  Almost speechless, she looked around and saw the jakes at the end of the path and her mouth quirked in amusement.

  “A most necessary effort, my lord. I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done.”

  His grin widened as he leaned on the shovel.

  “We’re going to be together for a few days and I detest this ‘my lord’ business. Please call me Sebastian.”

  She turned and then looked back over her shoulder.

  She hesitated and then surrendered. Even if it were only a few days, she’d love to use his name.

  “And I’m Caroline. But I’m usually just Caro to my friends.”

  His dark eyes flashed and then locked on hers.

  “Then I’ll definitely call you Caro.”

  He resumed shoveling while she stood flushed and flustered out of all proportion. He was a practiced rake who knew well how to tie women in knots. That burning glance meant nothing.

  This was just his routine way of charming a woman. She’d pay no attention to any of his lighthearted ways. Still she paused to again admire his magnificent physique as he tackled the mounds of snow. It was truly an effort to stop watching him.

  Snorting to herself at her foolishness, she fil
led the kettle with snow and brought it in to swing on the iron spike set over the fire. They’d need more snow, lots more, but his physically inclined lordship might be glad of an excuse to keep exercising that beautiful body.

  She deliberately shut down the image of his powerful strokes with the ax and set about providing an adequate breakfast for them both. If they were bound in for more than a day or two the fare might grow monotonous but at least they wouldn’t starve. She wondered how long the bread would hold out with a man who doubtless ate in proportion to his large frame.

  She’d never made bread. Still, she’d better check the dry cupboard to see if there was any flour.

  * * * * *

  When Sebastian came in the door, exuding masculine strength and thoroughly pleased with himself, she quickly looked down at the breakfast she’d prepared. She didn’t know how to hide the physical attraction she felt at just the sight of him. He’d pulled on his jacket but that did little to disguise his superb body.

  “Your breakfast is ready, my lord.”

  Her voice was more reserved than she’d intended. Just the thought of being alone with him for two or three days made her heart leap in a most unbecoming way.

  He’d pulled out her chair. “Prickly again, are we, Caro? I think I’ll not answer you until you call me Sebastian. No, I won’t even eat, even though I’m fair to starving.”

  He waited until she was seated then sat down, staring pointedly at his plate. He did not even pick up his fork, just looked at her in mischievous inquiry. She sat for a moment and then capitulated.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake. Sebastian. There. Do eat. It wasn’t easy cooking eggs over a fire. Don’t waste my efforts, please.”

  He still didn’t eat. “Did you burn yourself?”

  Taking her hands, he examined the palms and then dropped them, smiled and picked up his fork.

  He didn’t even try to control his sigh of relief and pleasure as he tackled the four-egg omelet she’d made for him. She herself had two eggs and she passed him a plate of cold toast and only took one piece for herself. Sebastian looked at her in inquiry, and when she shook her head, ate the rest.

  “There are coffee beans but I couldn’t find a grinder. The tea leaves are stale but I could fix you a cup of that.”

  He thought for a moment. “I could use a hammer and crack the beans, I suppose. Steeped in water they might be better than poor tea. I’m not fond of tea, in any case.”

  Caro wasn’t sure but he seemed eager to get at the beans.

  Funny, she could have sworn he was enjoying himself, this fashion plate of a lord. One whose exploits fascinated the ton. The London society columns relished any tidbit of news about him and the latest beautiful lady seen on his arm. Even she had occasionally seen a paper and knew of his amorous activities, although she knew little else about him. She’d never expected him to seem so intrigued with tasks usually done by a servant.

  Sitting back and looking perfectly happy, he idly asked her how she’d managed to cook the eggs.

  “There’s a long-handled pan hanging by the stove. I rinsed it out with snow and used that.”

  With a small sigh, she began to clear the table. She’d better get more snow to melt. At least she knew one thing—even though she’d worried about their survival, she now knew this beautiful man would see to keeping them both alive.

  If his lordship seemed admiring of her cooking feat, it meant nothing. He was undoubtedly used to females producing miracles for him.

  Sebastian smiled with satisfaction, his hunger replete. Not the fanciest food he’d ever tasted but definitely the best. He’d attack the coffee beans next. His body tingled from head to toe from exercise, including a few muscles he’d not used for a while. He’d thought boxing at Gentleman Jim’s and working out at the fencing academy were keeping him in excellent shape but swinging an axe called on a few muscles he hadn’t even known he had.

  He felt more at peace than he had for some months. This situation might seem regrettable but by god he’d hadn’t been bored since he set foot in this miserable excuse for an inn.

  His companion was more enterprising than he’d expected. Certainly a governess, as he’d mentally classified her, wasn’t expected to cook eggs over a fire. She was much younger than he’d thought her to be. But not too young, thank the lord. Now, with a smudge from the cooking marring her perfect skin and her hair tied back with a simple ribbon, she looked about the age of the debutantes at their first dance. Her eyes, which she’d kept downcast before this morning, were as gorgeous as he’d first thought. A beautiful shade between blue and purple. She was as beddable as any woman he’d ever seen.

  His trousers felt uncomfortably tight. By god, he’d better get his licentious thoughts under control. He’d always been careful his liaisons were with women who understood the rules of the game. Widows with unmet sexual urges, eager to experience his expertise in the arts of love—actresses or painter’s models—never an innocent.

  He’d wager his last pence this girl had not been touched.

  This was no time to break his lifelong code. She had no idea how she could inflame a man. Hell, he doubted if even a ninety-year-old could keep his cock in his pants if he saw her now.

  And you, Sebastian, had better not show her any differently.

  He turned to her with a smile.

  “Let’s see if we can’t we make the task of cooking a little easier for you. Let’s go look at the kitchen. Maybe the stove would be better than holding food over a fireplace.” She shrugged.

  “I’ve already looked, Sebastian. It’s an impossible monster.”

  “Maybe I can do something,”

  He grinned in delight and strode toward the kitchen.

  “Let’s go see.”

  Striding ahead of her so she had little choice except to follow, he soon found himself in a kitchen that was obviously used only for the necessary food a bar might be expected to produce. Certainly no decent cook would do anything but stalk out in disgust. The stove was an old-fashioned monster. He knew little about stoves, but surely this one was from another age.

  He stared at it, almost nonplussed.

  “I’ve never seen a stove like that. But I’ll bet it works and that I can figure it out.”

  His companion let out a squeak of delight.

  “Oh look. Here’s flour and sugar. Maybe I can make biscuits when the bread is gone.”

  Amused, Sebastian turned to her. “Are you good at making biscuits?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. But I’m sure I can stir flour and water together and make something edible. And look, here’s a crock of butter. Yes, I’ll make biscuits as soon as the bread gives out.”

  She looked so pleased at the prospect Sebastian again had to steel himself not to grab her in his arms. Her answer gave him further pause. This was no ordinary girl. Everything about her, the purity of her features, the delicacy of her hands, the fact she knew a few things but not much about a kitchen confirmed what he’d already determined. She’d been raised to be a lady. A lady who’d been loved by her servants and indulged.

  What had happened to force her into traveling alone and in some of the most regrettable clothes he’d ever seen?

  “How did you know how to cook the eggs?”

  She flushed. “When I was a child I used to watch Cook when I had a chance. She let me stir the eggs for an omelet once.”

  Seeing his stare, she added, “Surely all children find kitchens fascinating.”

  “Yes, of course they do.”

  He didn’t add that not all households had a cook. Nor one addressed by her job title. Intrigued, he probed a bit further.

  “I’m sure Cook taught you more than just eggs. What else did you learn from her?”

  She flushed, bit her lip and turned to the sink.

  “That filthy sink is disgusting. I’m glad I didn’t eat anything here last night.”

  He let her get away with the change of subject. She was not about to volunteer an
y information. Still, she was so guileless he thought if he could keep her talking he’d find out a bit more.

  This girl was so unspoiled he found it hard to credit. All of his liaisons had been with women who expressed complete enchantment with his person and his lovemaking. When he first came to town he’d believed their flattery and thought himself one hell of a virile fellow. Now he wondered if any of them would have given him a second glance without his title and his money.

  Shrugging, he set to work bringing in wood for the monster stove and getting it to work. Two fires would keep him busy chopping wood but he didn’t want to have Caro’s skirts catching on fire if she leaned too close to the fireplace.

  God bless the fates. It felt good to be in charge of his life in the most basic way. He found himself responsible for not only his own life but that of his lovely companion. He’d be almost sorry when this unexpected interlude was over.

  In spite of his father keeping him from actively joining the fighting with Wellington, he wasn’t exactly useless.

  * * * * *

  Twilight began to send little shadows into formerly sunny spots in the inn as Sebastian finally decided they had enough wood for at least twenty-four hours. He’d barely stopped since breakfast. The path to the jakes was clear, wood was stacked beside the fireplace and near the stove. He’d even found candles in a kitchen closet and two of them now burned in the darkness of the kitchen to help Caro as she cooked the inevitable eggs.

  But she’d also sliced off generous pieces of ham and warmed them. She’d toasted more bread and set two places at the kitchen table. The table looked inviting, if you weren’t particular about the setting. Two banged-up tin plates were in place, as well as two spoons. She’d opened a bottle of wine from the bar and filled two shining glasses. She proudly assured him she’d rinsed everything with snow.

  Evidently the innkeeper served mostly food eaten with fingers only. Probably he’d hard-boiled the eggs.

  With a grin he sat down. He’d eat sawdust if that was what she was about to serve. He raised his glass to her and was pleased when she raised hers in return.