The Earl's Christmas Delivery (7 page)

She didn't try to escape that, either.

Her own arms wrapped tightly around him, seeking to keep herself snug up against him, pressed into his form as she tasted him and breathed in his smoky, spicy scent. She'd not kissed a man before and no doubt was making a muddle of it, but she could not care. It was wonderful! She let him lead the way, to move his mouth against hers and to dance his tongue across her lips. There was nothing to do but react and cling to him for dear life.

The loud cough and accompanying chuckle from just outside the stall interrupted them.

Carole suddenly dropped from heaven into the cold, dank reality of the stable. She pushed herself away from the earl quickly, her face burning and her knees decidedly weak. One of the shepherds leaned over the stall rail and grinned at them.

"I don't suppose ye be needing any help in there?" he asked.

"I think we're fine, thank you," the earl replied.

How could he sound so
controlled, so ordinary? Had he not just felt the ground shift beneath them, the earth cease its turning and the skies open up to the sound of angelic chorus? Perhaps not. Perhaps all those things had merely happened to
her
.

"Oh, I
can tell the two of ye be just fine," the shepherd said. "But I thought maybe ye'd want help tending the mare, seeing as she's trying to birth that foal just now."

Carole glanced at Holly. The pony was not pacing the back wall as she had been. No, she was lying down in the straw, her sides heaving and her breath coming heavily. One look at the back end of her and Carole thought she might faint.

The earl cleared his throat.

"As a matter of fact, since you mention it, my good man, I believe
we'd be appreciative of any help you might give just about now."

For the first time
since she'd lain eyes on him, the formidable and composed Earl of Bahumburgh appeared every bit as shaken and unsure as Carole felt.

The foal stood on spindly legs, wobbling perilously as his tiny hooves sought purchase on the straw-covered floor, but he kept himself upright. The mare nuzzled and nudged him. She seemed very nearly as proud of her efforts as Myserleigh was of his.

By God, he'd helped birth a horse! And he'd done a fine job of it, if he did say so himself. Miss Meriwether could relax, could breath once again knowing her pony was safe and that he,
someone who usually had servants to tend to all the difficult and unpleasant tasks of life, had a hand in making this beautiful tableau.

He could only hope his generous efforts with the pony might help to make up for his deplorable behavior prior to the birth.

By God, he had kissed the girl like a man who had every right to do such a thing. He did not, of course. If not for the interruption of the shepherd and the impending birth, he could only imagine what further liberties he might have allowed himself to take with Miss Meriwether. In her cold, exhausted state it had been most unfair of him to press his advantage.

He liked to think, of course, that she had welcomed his advance, but from the way she had avoided eye contact and spoke only when necessary to him, he could be sure she did not. Why would she, after all? He'd done very little all day to give her reason to look favorably upon him. To drag her into an uninvited kiss when her resources were spen
t and her nerves were beyond frayed... well, he knew there were words to describe men who treated women that way.

None of them were complimentary.

What could he do to make things right? He doubted there was anything. He may have entertained doubts about Miss Meriwether's character when he first found her this morning, but after a full day in her presence he could do nothing but credit her entirely respectable. Clearly she'd endured some difficult times, but she was fully a lady, nonetheless. She deserved to be treated that way but instead he'd treated her shabbily. He could not blame her one bit if she refused to forgive him.

He'd best simply remove himself from her life as expeditiously as possible
. Once his brief Christmas visit with Estelle's family was over he'd be headed back to London and his bachelor quarters there. Miss Meriwether would be happy to see him go. She would go on with her life in Estelle's household and probably not ever think of him again. Surely he'd not think of her. Occasionally, perhaps, but not often.

The shepherds had helped tidy up the stall and then gone back to their sheep.
It was well into the wee hours and their one lone lantern flickered in the drafty stable, casting crooked shadows that quivered and trembled against the stall walls. Myserleigh tried not to think about how chilled the dusty air was, or how warm Miss Meriwether had felt in his arms. It was foolishness to let his mind wander in that direction. Miss Meriwether was taking extra care to keep plenty of distance between them.

It was not a large stall, however, so even though she tried to busy herself at the other side of it, talking sof
tly to the pony and stroking its velvet, gray head, she was still only feet away. She might not be looking at him, but the earl could certainly look at her. Recalling the feel of her soft curves when he had pulled her up close against himself gave him a new appreciation for her muddied, rumpled clothing and the rough, shapeless blanket she had pulled over her shoulders.

"The foal seems to be healthy enough," she said.

He knew it was more from an effort to convince herself than to actually engage him in conversation, but he was happy to hear her voice. He would take care to keep his reply civil and perfectly respectful.

"He's a beautiful colt. Estelle's children will be beyond thrilled."

"Do you suppose it will be safe to transport them tomorrow? Perhaps I should remain here with them while you go on to the Bexley's."

So she was eager to be rid of him, was she? It shouldn't surprise him, nor should it feel like such a slap in the face.

"We've come farther today than my initial plan, so it is not a great distance to Bexley Manor," he assured her. "With no students or shepherds to accompany us tomorrow, there ought to be room in the wagon to carry our new little family inside."

She seemed to like that idea and actually smiled briefly at him before remembering herself and looking away again.

"That would be an excellent idea. I should think getting them settled in where they belong would be the best thing for them, as long as the travel isn't too taxing."

"Will it be too
taxing for you? Do you need some time before we continue our journey tomorrow?"

"No! No, I'm very eager to get there. The sooner the better."

Yes, he could see that she meant it with all of her heart. She wanted to be safe in a fine manor with her dear friend Estelle, not here in this cold, dirty stable with him. Well, he would see that she got her wish.

"We'll get on the road at first light in the morning."

She nodded in appreciation, but whatever she might have been going to say was lost in a yawn. Now that the drama was done, fatigue was taking her over once more. He needed to convince her to rest.

"Why don't you lie down over here," he suggested. "I've laid out fresh st
raw and gathered some blankets."

She eyed his makeshift bed warily.

"I don't know... Perhaps I should keep an eye on the ponies."

"You can't even keep your eyes open. No, I will stay awake and watch over the ponies. You need to get some sleep."

He could tell that she wanted desperately to agree with him. She hesitated, though, and he knew why. After the way he'd manhandled her she could hardly feel comfortable trusting herself in his care. He'd have to set her at ease on that score.

"As for what happened between us earlier, I assure you that was an error."

"Please, sir, you don't have to—"

"No, I do have to. I
apologize for my behavior and I promise you do not need to worry for any future lapses of that nature."

If she had any clue at all just how difficult it was for him to make such a
promise she would not have frowned in such a dubious manner. Apparently she did not believe him. Perhaps she
did
know how difficult it was for him to make that promise. Especially just now, as her sea-colored eyes were dark and questioning, the lantern light made her skin glow warm and satiny smooth, and he could still taste the tantalizing sweetness of her on his lips... By God, it was going to take all the determination his tired body could muster to keep his eyes on the ponies tonight rather than on her.

Somehow he would manage, though. She needed her rest and he would convince her to
trust him. He'd find a way to trust himself, too.

"What occurred was a mistake, Miss Meriwether, and I
—"

"Please sir," she snapped, interrupting him. "If there is any part of you that is a gentleman, please do not mention what occurred. Promise me you will never speak of it again."

Her words left him no room for question. She hated him. She would not even hear his apology. Whatever hope he held for reconciliation he might as well dash it all now.

"Very well, Miss Meriwether. I will not speak of it. But I will insist that you get some rest. My sister would never forgive me if I delivered you tomorrow all yawning with red, bleary eyes."

"If you're sure Holly and the foal will be fine..."

"Yes, the shepherds said everything went just as it should. See? This little foal is a sturdy fellow already. And he's found his way to a meal."

Indeed, the little creature had been very much a prodigy on that count. The diminutive mare tended to him nicely and there was truly no reason at all for them to expect any difficulties. The very best thing now would be for Miss Meriwether to get a few hours of sleep. And for him to spend a few hours learning how to keep his mind off of the very thing he'd just promised never to speak of again.

He regretted what happened; she could see that plainly enough in the pained, uncomfortable way he had insisted on bringing the subject up. She'd stopped him from persisting in his apologies, expressing his great remorse at such a lamentable thing as taking her into his arms and kissing her. It was one thing to know his kiss had meant nothing to him, yet it was quite another to hear him vow and promise never to make such a dreadful error ever again. He may as well have run screaming in terror from her.

She shouldn't have let him get so close to her, anyway. What did she know of kissing, anyway? Nothing. She'd lived the sheltered life of a gently-bred girl, raised to be ignorant of such things. If Papa had not suffered such a drastic financial downturn the very year she'd been expecting her come-out, she'd likely have learned about beaux and gentlemen's advances and, perhaps, even kisses. But she'd not had her grand Season that year, then Mama's illness took over their lives and things had gone from bad to worse.

What she'd learned of men over the past
six years she'd learned simply for self preservation. She'd learned to avoid nearness and any situation that might give a man the notion she welcomed such actions. Obviously she'd broken all of those rules—and several others, too—with his lordship today. Now even he regretted it.

She wished she could say she did, though. Sadly, as she gave in to his demands that she stop fussing over the ponies and allow herself some much needed rest, she could not deny the fact that deep down inside she
had no regrets. She could never regret kissing the earl.

She would never forget it, either
. There was little chance she'd ever experience anything like it again, so her memory was all she would have. Her prospects were not good and she was hardly a young miss any more. Without youth, connections or dowry to recommend her, she would not fool herself regarding the future. Lord Bahumburgh's sleep-deprived lapse in good judgment was likely the closest she would ever come to finding herself courted by some dashing gentleman.

And what a dashing gentleman he was, at that
. No other man could ever compare. Drat it all, but she had indeed come to feel something most unwelcome for her traveling companion. Despite his airs and his bluster, she'd gone and let herself develop a fancy.

Dear heavens, but she hoped that's all it was! The way her heart pounded at the thought of him and the way her lips still tingled from his touch she could not help but wonder
—was this a mere girlish fancy, or had she stumbled into something infinitely worse? She desperately would not let herself answer that question.

She turned herself away from him, going to the pallet he had laid out and unceremoniously making herself comfortable there. She snuggled under the blanket he had laid out and kept her face resolutely toward the wall. Hopefully he would think this was her way of saying his kiss had meant nothing and she couldn't care less what he did with himself just now.

Really, though, it was primarily to be sure he did not notice her tears.

The night dragged on.
Myserleigh watched her sleeping, his gaze tracing the form of her gentle curves under the blanket and wishing she'd stir, perhaps turn over so he could see her face. She'd been so tired, so worn by the cares of their day. He hoped in sleep her worries might fade, her dreams might put a smile on her pink lips. He could not see them, but he could picture them as clearly as if he could. He kept himself alert by studying the color of her hair, the way the strands cascaded around her like waves of golden silk.

She breathed evenly, though in her demure position on her side he was not afforded a view of her rising and falling chest. A true gentleman would not even dream of such voyeuristic wishes, but he had not behaved very gentlemanly today. He had been rude and suspicious, he had driven her without
accommodation through the worse of storms, and now the best he could provide was a bed on the floor. In a stable.

A cold, dark stable, at that. The lantern was nearly sp
ent and sputtered profusely. Its light was enough, though, that he could see her shiver. Yes, she was shivering now, her tired body overcome by the cold. He'd hunted down every dry covering he could find to make this pallet for her, yet it had not been enough. He ached for her as her exhausted body trembled uncontrollably and she moaned in her sleep, pulling the blanket more tightly around her.

He'd never felt so utterly useless, so ridiculously incapable before in his life. Yes, he'd helped two able-bodied shepherds birth a healthy foal tonight, but he'd not been able to keep one undemanding
, uncomplaining woman from sleeping on the cold floor. Worse, he'd not been able to keep his hands off of her.

But maybe that's what she needed. He couldn't secure her better accommodations for the night, but he could keep her warm.
She refused to accept his apology for that kiss, so he was fairly certain she would not appreciate any further contact, but he decided her welfare came above her measure of esteem for him. He'd likely get a tongue lashing from her in the morning, but for now he would keep her as safe and warm as he could.

He left his spot on the crates. The mare
stirred, turning her huge, gentle eyes on him but not shifting position where she stood guard over her sleeping foal. The little one's tail flicked, but otherwise he gave no response to Myserleigh's motion.