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Authors: Rebecca Connolly

BOOK: An Arrangement of Sorts
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“You are never allowed to meet Geoff,” he muttered, standing up from the bed and rubbing his hands on his trousers.

“Why not?” Moira asked with a laugh as she went back to pinning up her hair.

“Now telling you that would be counterproductive, and give you far too many ideas, and I refused to be baited by you,” he scolded with a smile. “Shall we go down to breakfast?”

She nodded and walked over to the door, where he escorted her out and took her hand. “If you tell anybody about you-know-what…” he warned in a low voice.

“Oh, really, who am I going to tell, Nathan?” she interrupted with a hiss.

He gave her a look. “Knowing you, anybody you can find.”

She laughed out loud and tugged on his hand, pulling him into the room where a good many patrons already sat eating.

Well, there would hardly be a need for convincing the public of their proper relationship, Moira thought as they sat down themselves. The way Nathan was laughing, the way their hands were linked, combined with the ring on their fingers, told everybody exactly what they already suspected.

If only it was the truth.

“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” Nathan said some time later, after they had been riding a while.

Moira looked where he was indicating, and shrugged. “They don’t look too terribly imposing to me. Don’t worry about the clouds.” She flashed him a teasing grin. “Unless you are also secretly afraid of thunderstorms.”

He glared at her in what he hoped was a menacing manner. “No, I just don’t want to be caught out here in the middle of a storm. We are not near any shelter, and it would hardly be an easy thing to get our horses to behave if it storms.”

That sobered Moira slightly, but she still smiled. “I think it will pass us by, Nathan. We had that large storm yesterday. I don’t think we will have another one. Now, stop worrying and ride!” She took off suddenly at a mad gallop, laughing just as wildly.

He had no choice except to follow after her, but he grumbled about her lack of concern. Just because a storm had come yesterday did not mean that they would not get one today, and if she honestly thought that weather patterns actually followed a pattern, then she was not nearly as intelligent as he thought she was.

Urging Mercury on faster, he caught and passed Moira, earning a cry of outrage from her.

They continued to race back and forth, laughing all the while, until suddenly, the storm was upon them. And it was not some gentle spring rain. It was a torrential downpour with raindrops so large and falling at such a speed that the impact of one was almost painful. The wind howled and blew them about, nearly carrying away Moira’s bonnet, which she had decided to don the moment the rain started.

“The bonnet?” Nathan yelled over the sound of the storm. “Really? I think it’s a bit late for that!”

“Shut up, Nathan!” she bellowed as she hung onto her bonnet with one hand and Flora’s reins with the other.

Nathan grinned in spite of the storm and turned back to the road, which was rapidly became impassable. Up ahead, he saw light coming from what looked to be a farm. He maneuvered closer to Moira and said, “I think we should make for that farm, see if they will let us take shelter there. Perhaps in the barn or something.” He saw her face, and misread it. “It will be better than nothing, Moira.”

“If you think I am going to be particular about where we take shelter, you are an imbecile,” she said over the wind. “Flora is making me nervous. She is ready to bolt.”

Nathan looked towards the farm, then back to their horses, who were whinnying and shifting anxiously, as well as getting their hooves stuck in the mud of the road. “Let’s get off of them and make a run for it,” he suggested.

Moira nodded and slid off quickly, her boots immediately sinking into the thick mud beneath her. She gripped Flora’s reins tightly in her hands and tried to move, but found her feet to be stuck. “Nathan!” she yelled with no small amount of irritation.

“What?” he called back, his own level of frustration very high.

“I am stuck in the mud, Nathan,” she bellowed, trying once more to free herself. “What a grand idea that was, getting off of the horses in the middle of the road. Did you think we would fare much better than they did in the mud?”

“I didn’t hear you object!” he argued as he made his way over to her, clutching Mercury’s reins in his fist. “Did you have any better ideas? No!” He drew out the “o” dramatically as he trudged through the mud. “‘Don’t worry about the clouds,’ you said. ‘It will pass us by,’ you said. Well, are you happy now, Moira? I said I was worried about them, but since you were so sure they were nothing, we did nothing. I should just leave you in the mud and let you fend for yourself.”

“Oh, who asked you to do anything?” she barked, shielding her eyes from the rain. “If you want to ride on ahead to safety, then be my guest! I can manage very well without you!”

He snorted as he reached her and bent down to examine her boots. “Yes, very well indeed, from the looks of things. You have things quite in hand, haven’t you?”

She screeched in frustration. “Ugh, if I had the use of my feet, I would kick some of this disgusting mud into your face, Nathaniel Hammond!”

He glanced up at her through the rain, looking rather sardonic. “That is not very good incentive for me to get you out of here, is it?” Before she could respond to that, he began unlacing her boots.

“What are you doing?” she screeched.

“You are not going anywhere in these,” he commented matter-of-factly. “They are only going to sink further and take you along with them. They must come off.”

“So you are going to make me march all the way up there in my stockings?”

He sighed and looked up at her again. “Tempting. But you know me better than that, Miss Dennison.” Without another word, he swept her up into his arms in one fluid motion, leaving her boots behind.

She squealed in surprise and held onto him as best as she could, and he grimaced as she wriggled in his arms. “Hold still, woman,” he growled. “This is going to be difficult enough as it is.”

She frowned up at him. “Well, my apologies for not being the size of a twig.”

“That is
not
what I meant, Moira,” he scolded as he slogged through the thickening mud towards the grass on the other side of the road.

“Oh, well, now you are claiming I don’t understand you. That’s a true statement, if ever I heard one,” she drawled, reluctantly latching a hand behind his neck.

“Stop choosing to be offended!” Nathan cried, slipping a touch on the grass. “Do the whole world a favor and shut up!”

“You first!” she protested, tugging on Flora’s reins as the horse tried to escape. “Why don’t you try hurrying along instead of talking the storm out?”

“I could go a lot faster without you as an added burden,” he informed her, “but as that is hardly an option, I am doing the best that I can.”

Moira ducked her chin as her cheeks flamed. She was cold and sopping and obviously irritated, but it did not stop her from tucking herself a little closer into the moderate warmth of Nathan’s chest.

Nathan tightened his hold on her, feeling her shiver against him. Her warm jacket was worn and too thin for a storm, but he had nothing better for her. His own jacket was hardly substantial and was far too wet to offer. “We’re almost there,” he said gruffly, wanting to comfort her, but not willing to let go of his argument.

“Good,” she said shortly as the arm around his neck tightened ever so slightly. Then she growled and untied the bonnet from her head. “This bonnet is useless,” she muttered, flinging it off into the storm.

Nathan looked down at her with a quirked brow.

“What?” she asked without concern. “I am already soaked through, it is not as though it was actually being of use. It was a tatty thing anyway.”

“You cannot go with nothing.” He shifted his hold on her enough to take his own hat from his head and place it on hers, but not before a steady stream of water fell from the rim onto her dress.

“You did that on purpose!” she cried as she tried to shake the water off, which did nothing but spray them both with droplets.

“I might have,” he said with a shrug, “but now you have protection for your head and I do not, so my actions are negated by each other.”

“That is hardly accurate,” she mumbled as she adjusted the hat. “There was no need for protection for my already sodden head, and your hat is hardly worth wearing itself.”

“You are welcome.”

“Must you always have the last word?”

“Must you?”

She muttered under her breath, unaware that he could hear every word, and he bit back a grin at her choice of words.

“If you are going to be so poorly behaved,” he said calmly, “I would be more than happy to carry you over my shoulder instead.”

“What makes you think I would not prefer that over this?” came the immediate response.

Nathan sighed and shook his head, torn somewhere between terribly amused and irritated beyond belief. One thing was certain, miserable and cold and drenched as they were, he was rather enjoying having Moira in his arms. And protesting as she might be, she was making no effort to shift away from him.

It was an odd sort of peace amidst the strife.

The thunder and lightning came in earnest then and Nathan quickened his pace as much as he dared, fearing they would lose control on the horses.

Suddenly, three men appeared from the farmhouse rushing towards them.

“Do you have shelter for us?” Nathan called out to them.

“Yes, of course!” the youngest of the three called as he reached up and took Mercury’s reins from him. “Mama is already making some hot tea and soup and my wife and sisters are setting to the rooms.”

“Oh, we only need the barn,” Moira insisted as an older man took Flora’s reigns from her.

“Nonsense,” he said as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We have room.”

“Besides,” said the third man, also quite young, “Mama would never hear of it. She would put us out in the barn before she would let any guests do so.”

“We are most grateful,” Nathan said as they made their way to the house. “I’m Nathan, and this is Moira.”

“Squire Joseph Cutler,” the oldest man said. Then he pointed to the others. “My sons, Jacob and William. There are two daughters, a younger son, one son-in-law, my sons’ wives, and three grandchildren inside, along with my wife.” He smiled at them, in spite of the storm. “You may wish someone else had found you tonight, sir. It is hardly going to be peaceful.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nathan commented dryly. “I’ve not had peace in quite some time now.”

A sharp jab into his ribs from the woman in his arms left Nathan quite unable to comment on anything else for a while.

C
hapter
F
ourteen

T
he squire’s words should have been fair warning, but neither Nathan nor Moira could have expected just how true they were.

From the moment they had entered the spacious farmhouse, they were set upon by a rather demanding, yet impossibly sweet Mrs. Cutler, who insisted they call her Madeline. She bemoaned their sorry state and instantly rushed Moira upstairs and ordered the men to see to Nathan.

They immediately dried and warmed her thoroughly, then changed her into a frock belonging to one of the girls, though which one Moira couldn’t have said. She didn’t recall any of the names, despite having had hurried introductions.

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