Corey McFadden (14 page)

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “I am so sorry. I was so anxious to get out. It’s all my fault. I can’t ride at all. Horses and I hate each other, but that’s no reason for her to be shot. I made her fall with my stupid ill-handling. Oh, please don’t shoot her,” Joanna ended up on hiccup.

Two tears, one on either side of her nose, made their way down her cheeks. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to reach over and wipe them away with his big, clumsy thumb. The thought unnerved him with its sudden, unexpected intrusion. Taking a deep breath, he pulled from his waistcoat pocket a large white silk square.

“It’s not your fault,” he said gently, unable to stop himself from dabbing her cheeks with it. Such a clean, white cheek. Red now with distress, but not the sort of red that would have to be laundered later out of the cloth.

“Oh, but it is, Sir Giles. I am such an idiot. I knew I couldn’t ride well enough but I came out anyway. It was thoughtless and selfish of me, and now you may shoot Angel because of me.”

It was all he could do not to take her in his arms. The thought quickened something inside him, and he suppressed it immediately, shocked by its intensity.

“But I won’t have to shoot her, not unless her leg is broken, and I don’t think it is. Please don’t cry, Miss—whatever is your first name, Miss Carpenter?”

“Joanna,” she said with another hiccup.

“Joanna, then. Look, see, Angel is in no distress. It cannot be broken or she’d be wild with pain. She’s just lamed. She’ll be just fine after Jims fusses over her awhile.”

Joanna did look at Angel. Indeed, the horse was holding her hoof up, but she was calm. If the horse’s large brown eyes held reproach, at least there was no malice and no pain. Joanna took a deep breath and hiccupped again.

“And actually, I think I should apologize to you, Joanna. I could see that you were not comfortable on horseback but I insisted on riding out anyway. I am sorry I put you through all that.” He took one last swipe at her cheeks and gave her a twisted grin. “Anyway, are the fells at least scenic enough to make up for my bad judgment?”

“It’s just beautiful, Sir Giles. Little Haver is in rather flat countryside. Of course, Little Haver is beautiful, too, but the fells are simply breathtaking,” she finished, her eyes on the distant hills.

Good. Perhaps he could get her mind off the awful mishap. She must have no idea how close she came to death or grotesque maiming. He had damned near dislocated his one good shoulder grabbing and holding Angel until the horse could find her footing. Had her hooves slipped any further, she would have fallen on the treacherous, rocky incline. Joanna would have fallen with her, rolling under the heavy horse, perhaps.

Amazing how the girl could feel so badly about the horse. It had been so clear that she and Angel had wanted nothing to do with one another. Eleanor would have held the pistol herself and laughed about it, while this girl cried at the very possibility. Angel was too old to withstand a serious injury to her leg. But he’d make sure Joanna never learned of the outcome, should the worst transpire.

He took Joanna’s arm and moved further down the trail away from the horses. Angel would need a few moments to rest, and Red Devil would have to do double duty on the way back. The girl trembled a bit under his grasp, and again he fought the urge to put his arm around her.

“How are you getting on with the children?” he asked, casting about for something to talk about besides horses. “You seemed to be having fun at the beach this afternoon.”

“I think we’re doing rather well so far, sir. They seem to be opening up. I’ve gotten them both to laughing a bit, and they are attentive to their studies. Emma is quite bright, I think, and Tom has some intelligence in those sweet brown eyes.”

“They seem happier, I think. Less melancholy,” he observed. He always had a stab of guilt when he thought of the children. He certainly had done nothing to ease their sense of loss, or to make them feel welcome in the few months they had been here.

“I think they will grow and prosper, Sir Giles. They are carrying around a great deal of grief on such little shoulders. It just takes time.”

“And love, I think,” he said sadly. “I’ve neglected them rather badly, I’m sorry to say. I was not close to my older brother. We were a good number of years apart and we did not share the same mother. He was nearly grown and gone when I was born, so I barely knew him. When the accident happened, and there was no one else to take the children, I agreed to do so, but Eleanor...” he trailed off, uncomfortable. It was clear this young woman was a godsend to his blighted household, but there were some things he could not tell her.

A crack of thunder startled them both. Looking up, Giles noticed for the first time that the sky had grown dark and ominous.

“There, you see, you made it rain,” Joanna said with a laugh beside him. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky until you made that transparent attempt to get me off the horse back at the stables. But oh, I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn,” she finished sadly.

“Come on,” he said, laughing and taking her arm again. “Well have to both ride Red Devil and lead Angel behind us.”

“But can Red Devil carry all that weight?” asked Joanna, somewhat aghast at the thought of getting up on that huge beast. “I can walk alongside. I like walking, honestly,” she added rather lamely.

He laughed and pulled her along. Great big raindrops were just beginning to fall. “Now, don’t turn into a coward on me, Joanna,” he said. “I was proud of you when you refused to get off the horse. Besides, I’ll be right behind you.”

They had reached the spot where the two horses stood together. Giles had not bothered to tie either of them. Angel couldn’t wander off, and Red Devil wouldn’t. Giles tied Angel’s reins to the back of Red Devil’s saddle. If Angel couldn’t manage the slow walk back, he’d have to leave her behind, and just not tell Joanna how she would probably be dealt with.

“All right,” he said, straightening up. “I’ll have to get you into the saddle one-armed. Let’s see if we can manage it.” He grabbed her around the waist with his good arm and lifted her effortlessly. She kicked her leg up over Red Devil’s back and astonished herself by gaining a seat on the tall horse. For a brief moment she teetered up there alone, then with an easy leap, Giles was behind her and she was safe.

The rain had begun falling in earnest. The wind had picked up and Joanna shivered. “Here’s your cloak, Joanna,” Giles said behind her. “I took it from Angel’s pack.” He unfurled the cloak in front of her and covered her with it, settling her back against him. His own cloak surrounded him and overlapped hers, its great hood sheltering them both.

“I know you don’t much like this, Joanna,” he said close to her ear, “but I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

To the contrary, she liked it very much indeed. The warmth from his body at her back soothed her chill, and his arm tight around her waist made her feel secure on the great beast. Beneath the shelter of his large cloak, she watched the cold rain fall and touch them not. Even when he gave Red Devil a nudge and they started on their slow trudge home, the rhythmic sway held no terror for her.

Giles, however, felt no such ease. He did not fear the treacherous path. Red Devil had a sense of balance that defied physics. But the slow gait of the horse and the contour of the saddle brought Joanna tight up against him. He could feel her round derriere pushing close with every step of the horse, and the feeling was pure torture. His cloak hood covering them both, he inhaled the sweet fragrance of her clean hair, along with the fresh, wild scent of the spring rain. He must have been mad to bring this young woman out onto the fells. He had forgotten his sleeping hunger....

* * * *

Joanna blinked her eyes, confused by the light of the stables. Has she actually slept on that great beast, on a steep, wet trail where one misstep could have brought death to them all?

“Down you come, Miss Carpenter,” came Jims’s flat accent. She felt hands reaching toward her and pulling her away from the comfortable warmth of her dream. Her feet touched the earth just about when she cleared her muddled, sleepy head. She looked up, smiling at Sir Giles.

“I am so sorry, sir. I must have slept. I hope I was not a great dead weight for you and Red Devil to manage.” Her smile died on her lips. The man was rigid, his eyes not meeting hers.

“I—I am glad to see Angel made it back with us,” Joanna ventured again, confused, hoping for some flicker of his earlier warmth.

“Oh, she’ll be just fine, miss, no need to worry about Angel,” she heard Jims say heartily. “Tough as nails, she is.”

Giles gave her a curt nod and rode Red Devil back into the depth of the stables. Joanna watched his retreating back with sinking heart. What had she done wrong? What had she said to turn his face cold and his eyes so hard? With a small, tight smile for Jims, she turned and made her way back to the rear entrance of the house, gathering her cloak around her, some remnant of his clean scent lingering....

* * * *

Inside the stables, Giles swung down from Red Devil, furious with himself. He had not dared dismount in front of the girl. In fact, he’d like to get away from the stables before anyone noticed. Perhaps he’d go down to the beach. Perhaps a dip in the pounding, icy surf would take away the hard, insistent swelling, the pain, the madness of desire. Never again would he succumb to a pretty smile. Once before, he had surrendered his soul, only to have it trampled beneath Violet’s dainty, treacherous feet. Never again....

* * * *

In the back of the house, in the steward’s small office, Hawton let the drapery drop back into place, a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. So the master and little puss were out riding today, were they? And come back seated all cozied up on one horse. He’d have to find a way to drop this little tidbit into his next conversation with the high-and-mighty Lady Eleanor. She would not like it one bit.

Chapter Seven

Emma’s little voice droned on with her reading lesson. Joanna was finding it difficult to keep her mind on the child’s work. She had already been surprised once or twice out of her morose reverie by a question from the girl. The draperies in the schoolroom were pulled open, but she almost wished they were not. Outside was as gray and rainy a day as she had seen in her fortnight here. The rain blew in sheets against the glass, obscuring all view of the sea. Just as well. Considering the wind howling around the great house, the sea was probably not a comforting sight just now.

With a sigh, Joanna turned her attention away from the gray of the window and tried to give Emma a bright smile. “Your reading is improving every day, my dear,” she said, putting some enthusiasm into her voice. The girl gave her a shy smile in return.

Each day had been better than the last with these dear children. Emma had opened up like a flower parched for water, suddenly given a long drink, and while Tom still did not talk, it was clear that he understood a great deal of what was said to him and could follow simple directions. More importantly, the boy’s eyes were bright and merry, and the room would ring with his joyous laughter.

And his laughter was part of what was bothering Joanna, she reflected grimly. Lady Eleanor had returned home last night with a large party of her friends. Joanna hadn’t yet seen any of them, but she had heard the raucous arrival long after the household was in bed. And this morning Mrs. Davies had put her head in at breakfast and reminded Joanna that the children must be kept quiet at all costs. There had been a tightening about the housekeeper’s lips and a terseness to her remarks. Already, Joanna could feel the tension in the house, as if the stones themselves reflected the strain.

And Sir Giles was nowhere to be seen, gone as if he had never been there at all. He had simply disappeared the day after their ill-fated ride. She had asked after him in the kitchen—for the children’s sake, of course. But she had received little more than a shrug from Mrs. Davies, who explained that Sir Giles never stayed longer than a few days and that his arm had healed enough for him to go back to the mines. Joanna had felt such a stab of disappointment. He hadn’t even said good-bye, not to her, of course—why should he?—but to the children. It had been small comfort that Lady Eleanor had disappeared as well—Joanna hadn’t asked about her—but now the woman was back and there would be the devil to pay if the children inconvenienced her or her guests.

As she had done repeatedly during the morning, Joanna sighed and turned her thoughts again to the children who were waiting quietly and expectantly at their desks.

“It’s rather a dreary day, isn’t it? Perhaps we could work on geography. Then we can imagine all sorts of different weather. For instance, I’ll bet it’s not raining right this minute in the Sahara Desert, is it?” Joanna said brightly. Emma giggled and Tom grinned. “Let’s look at the globe, shall we, and imagine ourselves somewhere where the sun is sure to be shining.” They moved toward the brightly colored globe, and Joanna cast another mournful glance at the rain. It would have been so lovely to take the children to the beach, away from the sleeping, fashionable guests. But instead she had the rest of this long, slow, rainy afternoon to keep them very quiet. What a dreadful day....

* * * *

Giles arrived about half past four in the afternoon, riding into the stables to the rear of the house in a streaming downpour. He noted the array of carriages standing outside. Thank God he had arranged with Mrs. Davies before he left to notify him at once if Eleanor returned to the house.

He had been uneasy since he’d left. His life at the Dufton mines was usually stimulating and pleasantly absorbing, but in these last ten days he had found himself at odds over everything, arguing over the least significant points, sometimes just for the sake of argument.

He told himself it was the problem of the children that was bothering him. His half brother had married young, and for love, and Giles had been pleased in a vague sort of way to hear that he had a niece, and disappointed a few years later to hear the sad news about the boy. But by the time the children had arrived on his doorstep a few months ago, all he wanted to do was find them a governess and retreat again to Dufton, away from this hell house.