by Meara Platt
He seemed to be upsetting her, so he released her and said nothing more. When he turned back to the window, he suddenly felt her hand on his arm. “Move away, my lord. You make too easy a target, even in a blinding snowstorm.”
A new butler had returned with a laden cart and Gavin caught the delightful scent of warm cocoa and ginger cake wafting from it. One of the footmen had earlier lit a fire in the hearth that now crackled and spit as Gavin tossed another log on it.
“Will that be all, my lord?”
He glanced at the man decked out in the dark blue jacket and gold breeches denoting the Duke of Devon’s livery. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Mr. Barrow, I presume?”
“You are most astute,” Taffy said, walking over to the cart to pour a cup of cocoa for Rafe.
“Not really. Ye gave me an excellent description of yer employer. It is good to meet ye, Mr. Barrow. Miss Ralston speaks quite highly of ye. The Duke of Devon must think very highly of ye as well since he’s retained ye to protect me and…” He nodded toward his son who was busy watching Taffy set out his cocoa and ginger cake. “Would ye care to join us?”
“Oh, my lord. That’s quite gracious of you, but no. I shall leave you in the care of my best Bow Street runner while I keep an eye on the house. We have several men positioned throughout Hartland Abbey. Monstrously large house, but you need have no worry. Just don’t wander off on your own.”
He frowned. “He’s very close, isn’t he? Perhaps already in the house.”
Taffy’s head was tipped toward them, no doubt hoping to hear their quiet conversation. Rafe, fortunately, was enjoying his cake and showing Taffy how far he’d gotten in his game of spillikins.
“Not in the house yet, m’lord. But all indications are he plans to make his move very soon. Perhaps tonight or no later than tomorrow night.”
“Bastard,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“With all due respect, my lord. Please allow Miss Ralston to handle the villain. I would kindly ask you to do as she asks and not question her.” He cleared his throat. “She will remain with you and your son tonight. I know this is unusual, and she shall be as unobtrusive as possible. But he is too close now. You and your son cannot be left alone from here on in.”
He knew Taffy had heard this last part, for her cheeks suddenly reddened.
When she glanced his way, he cast her a knowing grin. She hastily returned her attention to the cup of cocoa she had just poured for herself, looking as though she wanted to dive in and swim in it. Perhaps drown in it, she was that discomposed.
He was as well.
Ridiculously, the first thought that popped into his head was the possibility of seeing her without her mobcap and finally having a glimpse of her hair. It was lunacy, of course. But the realization that she would be with him tonight had his body responding in inappropriate ways. There was a killer on the loose who was going to find a way into this house, and he was thinking of Taffy’s hair?
He was also thinking of Taffy in his bed.
He stifled a groan.
Whatever might happen between him and this lass was for later. All his concentration and hers had to be on protecting Rafe.
They remained in the library a while longer after Mr. Barrow left them. When they’d finished their afternoon repast, the Bow Street man, keeping to his butler disguise, had wheeled out the empty pot, and empty cups and plates.
Taffy and Rafe were still seated at the small table and she was now helping him write his name. “R-A-F-E,” she spelled out slowly and complimented him on his letters.
When Rafe ran over to him excitedly waving his parchment, Gavin saw that the ‘R’ was backwards and the ‘E’ was tilted on its side. But he’d done a decent job with the other two letters. “Well done, lad.”
“Do I get another point, Papa?”
“Indeed, you do.”
The boy ran back to Taffy. “How many points do I have now?”
She sat him on her lap and took his hands in hers. “You had ten points and have used up five so far. Show me how many ten is on your fingers.”
He held up both hands.
“That’s right. So take away those five points.”
He stuck one hand down, leaving the other up with his fingers splayed. “I have five left.”
“Yes, that’s excellent. And now let’s add the other point you earned by spelling your name so well. So hold up another finger. How many does that make in all?”
“Six,” Rafe said.
“Yes, that’s it.” She nodded. “Shall we save these points for tomorrow?”
“No. Tonight.”
Gavin chuckled. “The lad is as impatient as his father.”
“What prizes can I choose from?” Rafe asked, becoming quite adept at the game.
Taffy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, because it will be nighttime and you ought to be in bed, you can choose to have me read a book to you. Or tell you a story. Or sing you a song. Each shall be worth one point each.”
He nodded as though also giving thought to his options. “And kisses are still free?”
“Yes, a hug or a kiss is always free whether from me or from your father.”
“Papa’s are free, too?”
“Yes, Master Rafe. I modified that rule because I don’t think it was fair of me to require you earn points before you are allowed to hug or kiss him. Showing affection for your father is something you ought to be able to do whenever you wish.”
He nodded again. “Will you kiss me and wish me sweet dreams like my papa always does? My mama used to sometimes, but she went away. Papa said she isn’t coming back and he was sad about it. It made me sad, too. But I don’t think mama is sad. I think she is happy she left us.”
“How can that be, Master Rafe? You are a wonderful boy and I’m sure it was very hard for her to leave you. She would have stayed if it was her choice.”
“No, she didn’t like me,” he said and resumed playing with his spillikins.
Taffy looked as though she was going to shed tears, so Gavin changed the topic of conversation. “Which will ye choose tonight, son? A book, a story, or a song?”
“All three, Papa. I have six points and that is more than three.”
“Do ye think Taffy can sing? What if she has the voice of a polecat? We’ll have to cover our ears while she screeches out a tune.”
Rafe giggled. “If she canno’ sing, then we can sing to her instead. Taffy, will I get a point if I sing to you?”
“Yes, most certainly.”
“And my papa? Will you give him a point if he sings to you, too?”
She laughed. “Yes, Master Rafe. You shall each get a point.”
His eyes lit up. “Papa, you’ll get a point, too. And remember, hugs and kisses are free, so you can ask Taffy for as many of those as you want.”
There was something exquisitely touching about the way her face turned to flame.
This lass was such a contradiction, able to fell villains without blinking an eye and yet completely undone by the thought of a man kissing her.
Or was it that he was the man?
Gavin gave a hearty laugh. “As many kisses as I want? What do ye say to that, Taffy?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAFFY TOOK A moment shortly after supper, which they’d eaten in the marquis’s guest bedchamber, to follow Mr. Barrow out as he carried the tray bearing the remains of their meal back to the kitchen. Once again, the marquis had ordered three place settings. Once again, she’d protested to no avail.
Everyone on staff was now aware she’d dined with the marquis. The dratted man was shattering her ability to blend in with them. Watkins had already voiced his disapproval to her, passing a disparaging comment when he thought Mr. Barrow would not hear.
She did not want everyone to think she was getting above herself and putting on airs. Perhaps the scullery maids would not care, for they were so low, they had their own dreams of betterin
g their positions and would cheer anyone able to rise above their hopeless lives.
But the others?
“Please, Mr. Barrow. You ought to be the one to guard the marquis and his son. It is most improper for me to spend the night with them.” Because dining together was not the only thing the staff believed she was doing with a marquis as handsome as this splendid Scot.
“Miss Ralston, the boy trusts you and so does Lord Falkirk, which I may say is quite an impressive feat. He is not the sort of man ever to trust anyone, especially on such short acquaintance. Yet, it is obvious he has full faith in you.”
“Oh, I–”
“More important, he trusts you with his son. Anyone can see that boy is the light of his life. Lord Falkirk will be impossible to handle once the villain approaches. He will be mad to protect his child and start behaving like a beast in the wild. A jungle cat who will sink his teeth into anyone who gets in his way. Only you can tame him.”
“That is absurd.”
“I can assure you, this man will take orders from no one but you. Now get back to him and the boy. I will hear no more complaint. Just as he trusts you to know what you are doing, I am asking you to trust me to know what I am doing.”
She nodded. “I do, Mr. Barrow. Most heartily.”
“There’s a good lass. You’re my best runner, Miss Ralston. Go in there and do your job. I assure you, there will be no damage to your good moral character.”
She returned to the bedchamber, her stomach in knots. If only she could be as certain that her reputation would remain untarnished…or that she would not be the one to willingly tarnish it for a night in the arms of the marquis.
She paused in the doorway, caught by surprise by the magnificent sight of him. He was down on one knee, running a washcloth over his son’s scrunched face and little hands. “Ye’re back,” he said with languid amusement, knowing exactly why she’d frantically sought out Mr. Barrow. He did not seem surprised that she had been kicked back in here.
“Seems I am, my lord.” She picked up the boy’s nightshirt laid out on the bed and came to his side, kneeling as well. “I can take over from here and help Master Rafe remove his clothes.”
“Verra well, lass. Go right ahead.” He slapped the washcloth into the basin, causing the water to splash over the lip onto the table.
When he rose to walk away, Rafe must have thought he had somehow irritated his father. “Papa, don’t be angry,” he said, dismay in his voice, “Taffy will help you undress next.”
She coughed.
Dear heaven, no.
“Because I need help with my buttons and you don’t,” the boy continued, afraid he was no longer in his father’s good graces, and not understanding what he had done. Of course, the poor lad had done nothing. It was the adults who were misbehaving. Or, more to the point, desiring to misbehave and knowing it would be the most foolish thing in the world to do.
This is why they were both so tense around each other.
The boy was still trying to soothe his father’s feelings. “That’s why she came to me first.” He stared at Taffy, his eyes wide and sad. “Will you help him undress?”
“Master Rafe, I don’t think–”
“Please.” He squirmed in her arms as she tried to undo his shirt front. “And you won’t need to help him with his nightshirt. He doesn’t wear anything to bed.”
She fell into a fit of coughing.
The marquis slept naked?
Cough. Cough. Cough.
“Blessed saints. Lass, ye canno’ think I’d…”
She knew he would not remove his clothes to sleep tonight. But that did nothing to calm her down. Cough. Cough.
She heard the clinking of glass. In the next moment, he was once again kneeling beside her, but this time he had one arm around her waist and had drawn her up lightly against his big, muscled body so that she felt a splendid, masculine heat radiate off him. “Here, Taffy. Drink this.”
He put a glass of wine to her lips and gently urged her to sip it. “There. Feeling better?”
Had he taken complete leave of his senses? No, she was not feeling better now that she was pasted to his hard body. Was this man forged of steel?
She nodded. “Yes, I must have swallowed the wrong way. It is nothing.”
He cast her a knowing grin, before turning to his son. “Rafe, can ye put the nightshirt on by yerself?”
“Yes.”
He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Good lad. Hop into bed afterward. What if I read ye a book and we give Taffy’s voice a rest tonight? She can sit beside ye and I’ll read to both of ye. That is, unless she has something else she needs to do. She’s a busy lass and canno’ always pay attention to us.”
He still had his arm around her.
This was not good.
He was throwing her senses completely off kilter.
How was she to remain alert when her thoughts grew wooly whenever he was near? No, no, no. This cannot be.
Fortunately, he released her soon after and strode over to the bed to tuck his son in. “Which story would ye like me to read to ye, lad?”
“The one about the boy and the sword in the stone. His name is Arthur but Taffy called him Rafe.”
The marquis nodded and drew a chair over to the side of the bed. “Then I shall call him Rafe, too. But don’t ye wish to hear a different story?”
“No, Papa. I like that one. And we didn’t finish it.”
He drew the covers up to the boy’s chin to tuck him in. “Verra well, King Rafe it shall be. I’ll pick up where Taffy left off.”
“No, start at the beginning.” Rafe popped up to a sitting position when Taffy tried to quietly retreat to the sitting alcove. “Aren’t you going to join us?”
“I’m a little worn out, Master Rafe. I was just going to curl up on the settee for a little while. You won’t miss me while your papa is reading to you.”
The marquis rose with a frown.
Now what had she done to irk him?
“Lass, how are ye going to get any rest on that stiff thing? I’ll be awake for another several hours. Take my side of the bed. Is it no’ important that ye get a decent rest?” He regarded her meaningfully, knowing she would be up all night to guard them and needed to be at her best. She could say with utter certainty that she was presently at her worst. This is why she’d begged Mr. Barrow to relieve her from night duties.
How could she protect this man when her legs were too wobbly to hold her up? How could she think with cool determination when her blood was so fiery, it was volcanic?
And now the marquis was striding toward her, his crystalline gaze capturing her own dumbfounded one. “I’ll no’ hear of it. Use the bed. I’ll wake ye when I retire.”
Rafe was already patting the mattress beside him, so starved of a mother’s affections, it broke her heart. He needed a woman’s soft touch. She understood what he was feeling, understood it to the depths of her soul. “Very well. But please wake me no later than midnight. Promise me, my lord.”
“Aye, lass. Ye have my oath.”
He said no more because neither one of them wished to alarm the boy. While they both had their hearts in their throats, dreading what might transpire over the next twenty four hours, the boy himself was having the best time of his life.
How could any child not enjoy the constant attention from his loving father? Even from her, although she was no substitute for a doting mother. She sighed. No, if what the marquis had told her was true, Vera had never been particularly warm to the boy.
The boy had even said it himself.
She slipped off her boots. Despite feeling quite uncomfortable, she settled atop the covers beside Rafe. “Take off your hat, Taffy,” Rafe said with a giggle, no doubt finding it very strange that someone wore a head covering to bed.
Did these Scots never wear a night cap to bed despite the Highlands chill? Obviously, the boy was not in the habit of wearing one since he found hers so funny. The marquis – oh, heavens – slept na
ked, so she doubted he’d bother to put a cap on his head when the rest of him was…she cleared her throat, suddenly feeling the air between them turn charged.
Wordlessly, she took it off and tucked it over the drawstrings of her apron.
She was afraid to look up at the marquis, but felt his gaze on her, and it was hot and intense. Why would he care what she wore or did not wear on her head?
“Papa, read to me now.” Rafe scrambled atop his covers and snuggled his little body against hers, so she moved her arm under him to hold him in an embrace.
How was it possible to fall in love with father and son in the span of a day? But she was glad the boy felt comfortable with her. Everything she’d taught him was planned to be something fun, so that if the situation grew extremely dire and he had to run while she held off a madman, he would remember and know exactly where to go and hide.
He’d racked up so many points finding his way to the library, he could now do it in the dark. And he knew the best places to hide, which had been the point of the hide and seek game they’d played amid the bookshelves.
Her eyelids turned heavy as the marquis began to read in his smooth, rumbling brogue. There was something so comforting about the deep resonance of his voice. Of course, to be sinking into a mattress as soft as this one also felt heavenly. She’d never known such luxury.
She had trained herself to be a light sleeper, but the effect of a sumptuous meal, a warming fire, and now lying in the most comfortable bed in existence while the handsomest man in existence read to her, and the sweetest boy in existence was nestled at her side, had her out cold before he’d finished reading the first page.
The next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her awake. “Lass, it’s midnight.”
She recognized the deep, honeyed smoothness of the marquis’s voice. His hand felt warm and gentle on her shoulder. She nodded and forced her eyes open. “Thank you, my lord.”
A fire was still burning in the hearth, no doubt recently replenished, for there was a soft, golden glow about the room. His smile was also soft as he gazed at her. “I hated to wake ye, lass. I think ye needed the rest. Ye looked so peaceful.”
