The Perfect Gift (3 page)

She seriously wondered if they would reach their destination unscathed.

Cissy, young and town-bred, looked out of the window and screeched. Sarah, who was older and a country lass, slapped her soundly. “Get a grip, ‘tis but a covering. We will have no trouble in reaching the hall. As our lady says, it is but a couple of hours away. Compose yourself. What good is a private servant who goes to pieces at the first tiny setback?”

Judith listened to the admonishments and watched as Sarah’s words calmed Cissy. She herself was not so insouciant. Sarah was born and bred in a country much gentler than the rugged splendor of this area, and would have never seen how snow could, on occasion, fall at speed and settle at depth. Therefore Sarah could not imagine any terrors. Judith, who had lived as a child in the hunting shires, had no such illusions, and that was nowhere near as desolate as this. She had vivid recollections of one occasion as a child, when she and her parents had spent an unexpected week at her father’s hunting lodge due to the inclement weather. To her young mind, the first few days had been fun, the rest one long struggle to have heat and food. She never wished to experience such hardships again.

Outside on the box, John-coachman was encouraging the horses to continue, with words, not the whip, for which Judith was grateful. She wondered how much farther they had to go, and could only hope it was not far. Dusk was fast approaching, and she was sure the still-falling snow prevented any of the landmarks that should show their way from being seen. If all had been well, this was the time they should have been arriving at the hall, not still having a considerable distance to cover.

At last the horses turned between tall imposing gates, upon which she could see inscribed the welcome words ‘Carrland Hall.’ She peered out of the carriage window to see a gray-stoned building on her right. If they had indeed arrived at the correct driveway, this was the chapel for the estate Amanda had told her about. They therefore had but a mile to go to their destination.

A sharp bend and a steep incline, both mentioned by Amanda as places to beware, were upon them. Judith knew better than to lean out and remind her coachman of the directions given to them. He needed no distractions.

Distractions or not, she felt the coach begin to slide.

“My lady, it’s tipping. Hold on tight,” Sarah said, her voice urgent.

On the seat opposite, Cissy grabbed hold of Sarah, her eyes wide and scared. In all truth Judith could reprimand neither of them. Her own body was taut with worry.

John-coachman was swearing under his breath. It was this more than anything that brought home to Judith the predicament they were in.

“Hold on m’lady, we’re a going.” His voice was harsh. “I’m holding the horses, brace yourselves.”

That, of course, was a given. “Cissy, Sarah,” Judith said, her voice high with the urgency of her message, “I fear you are correct. Take a tight grip onto the straps. We may spill.”

No sooner were her words uttered than she felt the coach tilt. For one heart-stopping moment she thought John-coachman would keep it righted, and then her world spun.

The screams of the cattle mixed with those of her servants as their axis spun. Judith saw stars and felt her head where her feet should be. There was a sound, not unlike that of a cannon she had heard when Napoleon’s defeat had been celebrated. It was followed by a grating noise that set her teeth on edge, as when a pencil was used without care on a slate.

As the world settled, albeit upside down, Judith shivered. It might be the weather, they might be within the grounds of Carrland Hall, but it seemed it was an omen. One which was not in her favor. The North Riding of Yorkshire was said to be wild, and could, in places, be dangerous. Who could forget Dick Turpin? Even though he had been hanged at York Gaol almost a century earlier, no sensible traveler was to be found abroad after darkness fell. The carriage lurched again, and her companions both yelled as the lamp swayed wildly and went out.

Judith’s hand slipped out of the leather strap she had been certain she was holding, and then her skirts covered her face.

Such an ignominious position, she decided as her head stopped spinning.

The hand that fondled her arse seemed not to agree with her.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

Stephen sat in his library and stared at the dancing flames in the grate. Outside the snow fell steady and unstopping, obliterating the garden, shrouding the trees with a cape of white. If it continued thus, he guessed it would be several inches deep before morning. Perhaps, he mused, if it did keep going in that vein, his guests would not arrive the following week, and he might have a quiet Christmas season. He shuddered at the thought the opposite might occur and once ensconced, the weather would ensure they would be unable to leave. That he perceived would be unbearable. He had decided his attitude towards Judith must be distant, and he had to ensure never to be alone with her. He might be able to hold out against her charms and wiles within company; he was not so sure his resolve would hold in private. Why was he so determined to do the honorable thing? A lesser man would have taken what was offered without blinking. Sad to say, he was not a lesser man. It occurred to him he no longer included Lady Mallins in any of his equations.

There was a rap at the door, and it was opened even before his command to enter was completed.

“My lord,” Thwaites, his major domo, spoke hurriedly. “There has been an accident near the main gates. A carriage has overturned. The gamekeeper saw it all as he returned home. He asks we send help, the snow is thick and he is not the best with prime cattle, as you know. I have taken the liberty to send notice to the grooms, but feel perhaps…?” One eyebrow rose.

“I will, of course, go at once,” Stephen replied as he stood and moved towards the doorway. “Please bring my greatcoat and dispatch someone to the village for Dr. Soresby. Do we know why a carriage was approaching? We are not expecting visitors for several days yet.”

Thwaites shook his head as he helped Stephen into his overcoat and handed him his hat. “I couldn’t say, my lord. I know no more than I have divulged.”

“Ah, well, I will no doubt soon find out.” He opened the door, to be met by a groom and two horses.

Within seconds Stephen was making his cautious way up the drive, cursing the fact that the snow nigh on blinded him.

“’Tis unconscious bad, my lord,” his groom spoke in a loud voice. “Who would wish to be about on such a night?”

“I know not, but it will not be long before I do,” Stephen spoke, his tone grim. He was not best pleased at having to risk his staff and horses in such weather, all for an unknown and unbidden visitor. “If we ever reach them. This drive is dangerous. Take care.”

The coach was dark against the brilliance of the snow-covered landscape. Even through the storm he could see it, and hear the terrified cries of the horses, mingling with the shrill screams of females. Stephen cursed. Silly women, no doubt lost; they had no right being abroad on such a day. He ignored the fact that the storm had surprised them all. His horse slipped, and he had no time to think of anything else except to concentrate on guiding his mount.

By the time he reached the vehicle, two of his grooms had begun to soothe the horses and tend to the coachman, now sitting in the snow, his head in his hands. He looked up as Stephen approached him.

“My lady will not be best pleased with me, but my lord I could not stop the slide,” he said earnestly. “Indeed, if we had known the weather would be so bad we would have not stopped in Boroughbridge but pressed on, and arrived several hours ago before the storm struck.”

“Yes, I would imagine so.” Stephen paused. “This is your destination?” he asked, suspicion uppermost in his mind. Lady?” He walked to the carriage door now uppermost, its window to the sky, and glanced back at the red-faced coachman. He was certain he knew that face. He searched his mind but could not fathom where from. It was, however, well-known, and not because of his sister.

“Why Lady Judith, of course. Your guest.” The coachman sounded perturbed. “We were expected today, were we not?”

Why am I not surprised? Harry needs to put Amanda over his knee and spank her until her arse is red and her…
He groaned; that was too much supposed information. Ruthlessly he turned his mind away from the thought of Judith in such a position with him, to the matter in hand.

Stephen glanced at his head groom, who, with a nod of understanding, handed him a lantern. Its warm glow cast long shadows across the snow.

“Of course,” Stephen said to the coachman, urbane and all gentleman. The coachman still looked worried. He should have guessed something like this was afoot the minute he got his sister’s missive. “But when his weather set in, I thought maybe you would wait it out somewhere. No matter. Robinson, Pickering,” he addressed the two other grooms. “Stand ready to receive the maidservants, I see my coach approaching, do take them back at once. Someone inform Chef and Mrs. Clegg our guests have almost succeeded in reaching their destination. Ask Mrs. Clegg to ensure Lady Judith’s room is ready to receive her, and have hot baths awaiting her and her maids. They will need them. Let Dr. Soresby check they have taken no harm. I will help the lady.” It was only once his grooms bowed and moved to one side he realized how his words could be misconstrued.
Ah well, ‘tis too late to rephrase my words.

With one wrench, he threw the door back and hauled himself down into the coach. The sight he saw would, on any other occasion, be the cause of great merriment. Now it made his cock ache and the hairs on his arms stand on end.

The maidservants seemed nigh on useless, and both sat on what had been the side and was now the floor of the coach huddled together. It was but a moment’s work to hand them out, and turn to the third person in the coach.

Or what he could see of her.

Why on earth had her maidservants not helped her?

Stephen gave in to temptation. He stretched out and caressed the perfect globes of the milk-white arse presented to him. His fingers ached to sample the delights he could imagine between the delicate curls that covered her quim. He nobly resisted the urge to venture further, but fondled her arse, and circled the perfect rosette of her anus. Even that small degree of intimacy made his cock rise up and demand attention. Thank the lord for the decrees of the ton that stiff breeches were not
de rigueur
in all situations. He was pleased to be wearing pantaloons, even if they were frowned upon as fast by some of the upper echelon of the ton.

A noise not unlike a kettle about to boil was coming from under the skirts. It seemed the lady was not amused.

With an inward smile of satisfaction, Stephen used his fingers to tease for a few seconds longer, squashing his innermost desires to take things a lot further. Judith, for he was sure it was she, was upside down; her skirts hung over her upper body and shielded him from her view.

With regret, he turned her upright, letting her skirts fall and cover her perfect body.

She was red in the face as she glared at him.

Stephen suppressed a chuckle. “Ire because I took a small liberty, my dear, or because I stopped before I began to explore?” He raised one fine-shaped eyebrow, and held the lantern closer to her.

The light swayed, and he saw stars as pain radiated from his stomach, to his cock, and thence upwards. He could have sworn his teeth rattled with the intensity of the blow he received.

The minx has hit me.

His breath whooshed out of him, and through the ringing in his ears he heard her furious voice.

“You bastard, you cad, you, you, villain.” Her voice was deep and full of scorn. “Is that the lone way you can justify touching me? When my head is covered and I cannot either take part or deny you?”

Put like that it did seem rather more underhand than he had intended. Stephen did his best to gather air into his labored lungs and not wheeze like an old man. It was several seconds before he decided he was in control of his breathing once more. His chest heaved as he struggled to formulate his sentence.

“I apologize, my lady,” he said, stiffness uppermost in his voice, “if I offended or upset you.” He was not going to apologize for his actions, and he saw the gleam in her eyes when she realized it.

“And do you apologize for anything more?” she asked, her hands clenched by her sides.

Stephen eyed those tiny weapons. He knew the signs of ire in a woman. “If I did so, it would be a lie,” he replied. “I must be frank, I enjoyed every tiny touch, and my body aches for more.”

“So why did you stop?” Judith demanded. “Did not the way my juices coated my curls and your hand indicate my enjoyment?”

He sighed. “I could say, I remembered where we were, with servants outside, but in truth Judith, if I did not stop then, I would have unleashed all my desires on you, and I fear they are too dark and dangerous to apply to such a young lady.”

“You fear.” Her voice was full of scorn and he winced at the tone. “Always you. Have I no say in the matter?”

How could he explain his ideals without scaring her? The thought she would be disgusted by him did not bear thinking about. “Perchance I dare not let you, for in truth Judith, my palate is jaded, my desires not of the norm. I feel too much for you to subject you to them.” He waited for her response, his heart heavy.