Copyright
ISBN 1-58660-863-0
Copyright © 2003 by Kimberley Comeaux. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
One
Christina Wakelin quickly realized the situation had developed into quite a dilemma. When she’d seen the poor old yellow cat, crying while it clung in terror to the unsteady limb near the top of the tree, she’d wanted only to help it down.
So without a care for how unseemly it might be for a young lady to climb a tree or the fact the tree just happened to be on the estate of Lord Nicholas Thornton, the Earl of Kenswick, she set forth to rescue the poor creature.
If only she’d heeded her friend’s warning, she would not be in this predicament! Helen, who stood staring up at Christina with worry marring her pretty face, had pleaded several times for her to give up the foolish mission and climb down.
She should have taken the advice earlier, however, because now she could not. Not only was the cat stuck in the tree, Christina feared that she was too. But the fact remained—the cat needed rescuing, and she must try to save it.
“Please, Christina! Do come down,” Helen told her in an overloud whisper. “What if Lord Thornton finds you frolicking around in his tree? He hasn’t been exactly friendly and sociable since his return. I do not want to even consider what he might do!”
Christina carefully moved her hand to get a better grip on the branch as she hugged it with both her arms and legs. “Helen, I do not think he could do anything that could be worse than falling out of this tree.” She winced as her arm slipped, scraping the tender skin of her wrist. “I don’t suppose you could climb up here and help me?”
“I can scarcely go up a flight of stairs without feeling faint from the height, you know that!”
Christina groaned with frustration over her inability to think of a way to get down from her perch and save the cat at the same time.
“Meeeoooow,” the scruffy animal cried again as it peered at her with big golden eyes.
“Do not carry on so, Cat. You are the reason I am in this situation in the—ow!. . .first place!” Christina slipped again, this time scraping the palms of both hands.
“Don’t tell me you are conversing with that animal,” Helen said from below. “What if Lord Thornton should happen to hear you? Why, he’d think you were not only a nuisance but mad as well.”
Christina tried again to reach out for the cat, but the contrary animal kept backing away, going farther onto the weaker part of the limb. “Since Lord Thornton has not been seen since his return to Malbury these last four months, I’d say you worry in vain. Besides, Helen, I do not understand this dismal fascination you have for the earl. One would think him a monster by your comments.”
“He is a scoundrel, Christina! I dare say there is not one in all of England who has not heard of his exploits. He drinks excessively and frequents gaming halls, and it’s been rumored he has participated in two duels. Two, Christina!” she emphasized, her voice showing how scandalous she thought it was. “His own fiancée threw him over because she found him in the company of another woman of questionable reputation.”
“Perhaps you did not listen to my father’s sermon last Sunday when he spoke of how we should not judge our brothers,” Christina gently reminded her friend, as she dared to look down at her. Christina was the daughter of the village vicar, a man whose heart-stirring sermons brought parishioners from as far away as Nottinghamshire, ten miles away. “And besides, while I do not know the particulars of his engagement or the duels, I think we can safely assume he has not been gambling or calling someone to pistols since his return!”
Christina tried not to think about how unsteady the branch seemed as she scooted out a little farther. This time she could touch the cat but not quite grab it.
“Christina!” Helen cried out again, this time sounding more alarmed. “Can you not let the cat be and come down? I do believe the branch is bending!”
“Nonsense! I’ve almost got him,” she replied, though she could feel the branch giving way herself.
Just as she had the cat by the scruff of its neck, her attention was caught by someone walking from the house toward them.
“Oh, dear! Helen, it’s Lord Thornton and he’s headed this way!” she cried in a hushed tone.
Helen’s eyes grew round with fright. “Say it isn’t so, Christina! What are we to do?”
“You must run, Helen. Leave the grounds before he sees you!”
“But what about you?”
“Surely, he won’t see me up here. I’ll climb down just as soon as it is safe.”
Helen looked doubtful, but she didn’t argue further. Casting a worried last look up to her friend, she started running toward the opening in the fence through which they’d slipped.
Christina turned her eyes back toward the earl. He appeared to be quite a dour, brooding gentleman, not at all like he’d been when he left Malbury years ago. Even his appearance was vastly changed, older and somehow wilder. His black hair was tousled about his face and falling unfashionably past his collar, framing features that were stern and proud with defined cheekbones and a straight, noble nose. He walked with a definite limp that Christina knew must have been a product of the war.
Despite his grim countenance, he was smartly dressed in a dark green riding coat over a tan waistcoat, and his buckskins tucked into polished black Hessian boots encased his long legs. A snow-white cravat about his neck cinched the look and made him appear very much the lord of the estate.
He was nearly at her tree now, and she found herself holding her breath and praying he wouldn’t look up. Christina’s heart nearly stopped when he paused briefly and looked around, as if he were looking for something.
It seemed to Christina an eternity passed before he finally started to walk away. And just as she thought she might escape his notice, the old tomcat let out a long mournful meow Lord Thornton would have to be deaf not to hear.
Apparently, his hearing was fine, because he immediately turned and looked up into the tree—and directly at her.
His brooding expression turned thunderous. “What. . .?” he growled in unbelief. “You up there, who are you and what are you doing on my estate?”
Christina swallowed and hoped she could somehow talk her way out of this situation without her father finding out. “Uh, I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not mean to trespass, but—”
“I suppose you didn’t mean to climb my tree either?”
“Well, no, I didn’t actually mean to, but—”
“Yet here you are, trespassing on my land and my privacy,” he interrupted, his face stony and unreadable. “Come down at once. Although I should call for the constable, I must find out your identity and return you to your parents.”
Christina had many faults, but her worst, as her father frequently reminded her, was her inability to bridle her temper or her tongue. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from interrupting me and let me explain! Had you looked at my situation up here with a rational mind, you would see I am not alone but am attempting to rescue this poor unfortunate cat!” Unable to lift her hands without falling, she nodded toward the animal that sat looking at her as if it didn’t have a care in the world.
“That is my unfortunate cat,” he s
aid, surprising her.
“Yours?” He did not look like the sort of man who would be a pet owner. “Then what is his name, pray?”
She saw that her question disconcerted him for a moment. “Well, he doesn’t have one. I just call him Cat.”
“I am not sure that I believe—”
Before Christina could finish her statement, the cat leaped from the limb and sailed down to the next limb, and then the next, until he landed perfectly in the Earl of Kenswick’s arms. As she watched the big man cuddle the cat and fondly scratch those scruffy ears, she wished she could leap out of the tree herself and run away. How embarrassing to know her efforts were all for nothing; they served only to put her in an awful standing with Thornton and would probably get her in trouble with her father.
“My patience is wearing thin, Madam. I want you out of the tree this minute,” he barked at her, as he let the cat jump from his arms.
Christina bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She finally decided to confess. “There’s just a small problem, my lord.”
“And that problem would be?”
“I’m afraid if I move, this branch will break.”
He frowned. “Nonsense! The tree is as strong as any you’ll find in—”
A loud crack belied his words, and Christina found herself airborne. Frantically she reached out, trying to stop herself, and latched onto a branch full of spring leaves, but not before scratching herself even more in the process. The rough wood cut into the skin of her palms where she held fast to the limb, and Christina knew she could not maintain a grip for much longer.
“Madam! Look down and see where I’m standing. You’re not very far up now, so let go and I’ll catch you,” Thornton called from below in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.
Tears began to well up as Christina forced herself to look down to where the man stood. Not very far? It looked a distance of miles from where she hung. She recalled his limp. “How. . .?” she began, unsure how to ask it. “Your leg, Sir. Won’t it hurt?”
“Forget my leg and just let go.” When she didn’t respond, he shouted, “I said now, Woman!”
The booming command worked better than any gentle coaxing could do. Christina closed her eyes and let go, screaming the whole way down until she hit something solid. Firm, strong arms wrapped around her, and she heard Lord Thornton grunt at the impact. He stumbled a moment and then righted himself.
“You can open your eyes now,” he told her with a dry, almost humored, voice.
She did, but she wanted to close them again when she realized the compromising position she found herself in. The earl cradled her legs with one arm and supported her shoulders with the other. With her arm around his neck, there could be no more than an inch separating their faces.
His glittering blue eyes stared into her own bright green ones, and for some reason Christina found herself a little light-headed. There was something so disturbing about him, so compelling.
What would it be like, she wondered fancifully, if he kissed me?
“I should think we ought to be introduced first, don’t you?”
With horrified shock, she gasped, realizing she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. Like a fly trying to free itself from a web, she scrambled out of his embrace, backed away from him, and began tugging at her dress and smoothing her hair. Hot waves of embarrassment swamped her, and she did what she always did when she got nervous.
She began to prattle.
“Well, that didn’t turn out so bad, did it? I mean, the cat’s fine, you don’t seem too wounded from my crashing into you, and as you can see I’ve sustained no broken bones, so I’ll just run back to my home and leave you to your coveted solitude. I’m sure you’re anxious for me to leave, since you all but said so just a minute ago when I was perched in your tree, so I’ll say cheerio and—”
“Do be quiet, will you? You’ve already jarred every bone in my body. Don’t add to it by giving me a headache,” he snapped, making a show of rubbing his temple.
“Oh, dear! I knew I would wound you! What can I do? Do I need to fetch a servant?”
He put out a hand to stop her from fawning over him, and then he froze. A look of astonishment crossed his features. “I just realized who you are!” he exclaimed, not looking too happy about it. “The red hair, the penchant for getting yourself into messes, the rattling tongue. You’re Christina Wakelin, the vicar’s daughter!”
Christina was a little insulted that his last statement sounded remarkably like an accusation. “Very good, my lord, now I’ll just leave and—”
“It was you who pushed Harriet Cummings into the pond the summer before I left for the war!” he charged, coming toward her with eyes narrowed.
“I thought she could swim,” Christina said defensively. “I didn’t mean to almost drown her.”
“I suppose you didn’t mean for me to get blamed for it either?”
Christina swallowed and took another step back. “Well, it was all sort of confusing after she fell in,” she explained, knowing the excuse was weak. Actually, Harriet had been teasing Christina cruelly that whole day. Even now Christina didn’t understand why Harriet seemed to hate her so much. But Christina, tired of being teased and too immature to think about the consequences, decided on a whim to exact her revenge when she’d seen Harriet walking with Nicholas Thornton along the lake’s edge.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come forward and take the blame, but that was so long ago, my lord. Surely you can’t still be holding it against me. Harriet survived, after all.” She tried to smile but erased it once she saw he was not placated by her apology.
“My father almost disowned me over the incident, and my brother was upset I’d ruined his sixteenth birthday party. Not to mention Harriet declared never to speak to me again.”
Christina backed up until she hit another tree. “Well, she really wasn’t a very good friend, then, was she?” she reasoned with a half-hearted smile.
“I didn’t want her for a friend. I intended to begin courting her!”
“Oh, dear.”
“That’s just one instance. I have a dozen other memories of your mischief!” he emphasized.
“Surely you’re not going to list them all,” she pleaded, hating that he was correct in his allegations.
“That would take all day.”
He looked so peeved, Christina briefly wondered if all the rumors about him were true. Was he such a cad that he would harm a lady?
“But that was so long ago, my lord! Surely you don’t hold me accountable for things I did as a child,” she reasoned.
He looked at her as if she had just told him the moon were made of cheese. “I don’t if the person learns her lesson and grows up to be a responsible adult! Did I or did I not just find you in my tree? You, Madam, have not changed.”
“You’re not going to challenge me to duel are you?” she asked, remembering the conversation she’d just had with her friend.
He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard right. “I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind,” she answered quickly, wishing she would think before she spoke. “My lord,” she began again, “you are wrong in saying I haven’t changed. I am a Christian woman and strive to—”
“Don’t start handing me any drivel about religion! I lost any faith I might have had years ago.”
Christina’s heart broke at the bitterness that marred his face and laced his words. “But God can restore—”
“No one can take away the bitterness of war or the contempt I hold myself in for causing my father’s death! And now word has come that my brother’s ship has been lost at sea. . . .” He seemed to choke on the last sentence and quickly looked away, but not before Christina saw the sorrow that filled his eyes. “Now, if you don’t mind, Miss Wakelin, I’ll escort you home. But from now on, I’d appreciate you not trespassing or climbing any more of my trees.”
Christina wanted to say something to make things better, but she thought it wise to hold her tongue
. At least for now. But, being the crusader that she was, she knew she would not let this subject or this man be for long. There had to be a way to help him. Perhaps her father could provide her with answers.
“This isn’t London, my lord. My home is only a stone’s throw, so I shall see myself home and leave you to your solitude,” she told him as she started to go. But when she had taken only a few steps, she turned back to where he stood looking at her. A strange expression filled his eyes as he stared at her, as if he were puzzled by something.
His eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue, and Christina thought she could stare into them for hours. But his sudden frown dispelled any fanciful thoughts she entertained about the earl. A bitter, disillusioned man was not someone to have romantic feelings for. Of course, a mere vicar’s daughter had no business entertaining any sort of feelings for a titled man.
“You’ve changed your mind about needing an escort?” the earl spoke, breaking Christina from her thoughts.
She blinked, embarrassed she’d been staring at him for such a lengthy time. “I only wish to thank you for catching me. I could have come to great harm, had you not been there.”
His face was one of cool indifference. “You are fortunate I did not know who you were or I just might have let you hang there.”
Christina could not help it; he seemed to be trying so hard to appear the mean-hearted villain that she started to laugh. “Then I thank you for having such a bad memory. Good day, my lord,” she told him. Turning from his glowering face, made even angrier by her laughing, she ran to the back gate and off the estate.
Two
Nicholas Thornton, the sixth Earl of Kenswick, was not having a good day. He had not had a good day for three days since his encounter with Christina Wakelin. It confounded him, and even irritated him, that he could not seem to get her out of his mind.
He, who had been in the company of the most refined women of England, of whom he had given no more than a passing glance, could not make himself forget the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she stared down at him from atop the tree.
Vicar's Daughter Page 1
