The Earl's Christmas Delivery Page 6

  Miss Meriwether warmed herself near the fire and struggled to keep her eyes open as they waited to hear word on their young companion's condition. Myserleigh stayed very close to her, watching the various groups of travelers and visitors who populated the room, keeping his eyes open for anyone of unsavory character that might pose some risk. It was beyond foolish for the young woman to have set off on such a journey without a companion. She was just lucky she had ended up with him. If he'd sent some anonymous delivery person as he'd initially planned on, there was no telling where she'd be now.

  "Excuse me, sir," a voice at his elbow interrupted.

  He turned to find one of the shepherds approaching him.

  "Are the lambs safe for the night?" Myserleigh asked. "Do you expect them to recover?"

  "Indeed, sir. Thank ye for asking. But I thought that... well, it's about the little miss's pony out there."

  Now Miss Meriwether perked up. "Holly? What has happened? Is she unwell?"

  The shepherd twisted his still-damp hat in his hands and seemed uncomfortable. Myserleigh did not look forward to whatever bad news the man clearly had come to deliver. He could have kicked himself. Damn, but he must have pushed them too hard for the last mile of their journey. In his efforts to get out of the storm, he must have overtaxed the already exhausted pony. If the poor thing collapsed now, it could only be his fault.

  "I just thought you might want to know, Miss, and I don't think that you do, else you probably would have said something."

  "What is it, man?" Myserleigh chided.

  "The pony, sir. She's... well, she ain't just fat like I first thought she was."

  Miss Meriwether wrinkled her brow. "But what's happened to her?"

  More hat twisting from the shepherd. "Er... she's gone into her labors, Miss. It seems your fat pony has rather a good reason for being so round."

  Miss Meriwether still appeared confused. Myserleigh understood completely, though.

  "Good grief, you mean to say I dragged an expectant mother halfway across the country today?"

  "It seems that way, sir," the shepherd replied. "Your little miss seemed so concerned for her I thought I'd better come in from the stables and tell ye."

  "Thank you," Myserleigh said. "Are there any grooms out there who can attend the mare for us?"

  "The grooms are rather tied up, I'm afraid, but I can help ye with the birthing. Can't be much different than my ewes, I imagine."

  "Birthing! Oh heavens," Miss Meriwether said, the whole thing becoming clear at last. "That poor pony. All this time I had no idea—I should not have made her travel so far."

  "These beasts are made for this, missy," the shepherd assured her. "Don't see no reason she shouldn't come through it fine. Ye'll have a healthy young foal there by morning."

  "I should go out to her!" Miss Meriwether exclaimed, leaping up from her chair and gathering her wrap.

  Myserleigh tried to convince her to allow the shepherd and other stable hands to take care of things, but knew from the start he was fighting a losing battle. Shed' been charged with the care of the pony and, by God, she was going to do just that.

  Before she could escape the room and rush out through the rain to the stables, though, Basil and Mel showed up, blocking her way.

  "We thought you'd be wanting an update on Jasper," Basil—or maybe it was Mel; Myserleigh really never knew the difference—announced.

  "Yes, of course," Miss Meriwether replied, only slightly breathless from her pony concerns. "How is he?"

  "He's going to be just fine. Nana said that cut on his head was all bluster without much ado. She patched it up and says a few days of plaster will have it mended good as new."

  "And what of his arm?" Myserleigh asked.

  "Broken, but not badly. Nana put a splint on it and told us we'll have to do things for him until the bone fixes together again. He's likely to run us ragged, the scapegrace."

  "I'm so happy to hear it," Miss Meriwether said, earnestly beaming for them. "I was so worried for him."

  "Takes more than an overturned carriage to do away with us Kings," Basil—or whoever—said with a roguish wink at her. "But we do thank you both for helping us out."

  His brother agreed. "We'd have been in a sore shape if you hadn't come along, and we won't soon forget it."

  "I'm happy we were able to help out," Myserleigh said and realized he actually meant it. There was something decidedly pleasant in feeling that he had done worthwhile things for his fellow man today.

  "Did you hear the news about my pony?" Miss Meriwether said, changing the subject and practically bouncing up and down.

  The young men were very interested—or at least they pretended to be—as she told what she had just learned from the shepherd. Myserleigh watched her eyes as they grew larger and larger, her smile infectious as she described her excitement and shock at this stunning turn of events. And then she was all worry and concern again.

  "But what will we do? What if there are difficulties? Oh, I need to get out to the stable. Holly should have someone with her she knows she can trust."

  And of course that meant they were heading for the stable. Myserleigh bid good evening to the young men and made sure Miss Meriwether was bundled up appropriately. He left word for Mrs. Hark to send something warm out to them, then hurried after Miss Meriwether as she dashed out into the storm. God, but he hoped this pony didn't disappoint the woman tonight and do something regrettable like die. He didn't know much about Miss Meriwether, but he had a feeling she could use something happy in her life.

  It had definitely been warmer inside the crowded inn, but Carole refused to think about that. She also refused to think about how untidy it was in this stable. Very likely that was because most of the stable hands had finished settling their charges for the night and then gone off home, eager to spend Christmas Eve with their families and in their own beds. A few shortcuts had been taken and fresh bedding for some of the stalls had obviously been neglected.

  But it was not a bad stall that Holly was in. There were no leaks in the roof and the floor was good and solid, not muddy or covered in rotted boards. For a pony, Carole was content this appeared a more than adequate place to give birth.

  For an earl, however, it was a terrible place to spend the night. She couldn't believe he was still here with her. Yet here he was, keeping vigil on the makeshift bench he'd created for them out of some crates and an old plank.

  "Perhaps it was a false alarm and the foal will not come until tomorrow," Carole suggested, noting how the earl tried valiantly to hide a yawn. "You should go back inside. Surely for you Mrs. Hark will find a room."

  "No, it is full up to the rafters in there. I'm far better off out here," he replied. "Besides, you cannot possibly believe I'd leave you to tend the little mare alone?"

  "The shepherds said we could wake them if needed," she reminded.

  "A young lady passing the night in a stable with snoring shepherds still counts as 'alone', Miss Meriwether. No, I am staying and that is final."

  Gracious, but he did tend to be imperious about things. Still, she could not complain. Those shepherds had been decent sorts, but she was truly glad for the earl's company tonight. Even as low as her circumstance had brought her, she'd never yet slept in a horse stall. She had to admit the wind battering the roof and the occasional squeaky scurry of rodents left her feeling less than at ease.

  Not to mention her nerves were completely on edge for the little mare. How could she possibly not have known the pony was nearly ready to give birth? When she found the sweet little gray last month she'd simply thought it a bit overweight. The man she bought it from had not mentioned any special condition. Very likely if he'd known he'd have charged extra for her.

  It did, though, make her feel rather stupid to be so very ignorant. Poor Holly... to have been hurried along through all sorts of weather, now to be in a strange stall with no one knowledgeable to tend her... it seemed so very wrong. She could not imagine how there might be a
positive outcome to all this.

  "She seems rather agitated, and her breathing is rushed," she said, watching the pony.

  "I believe that is normal."

  "You've assisted with this sort of thing before?"

  "I do keep a stable at my family seat. Admittedly, I'm not there often and usually my grooms attend to such things, but I see nothing here that appears out of the ordinary with your little pony's behavior."

  "I hope so."

  "Estelle will be very proud of your selection. This is a fine little mare, and she comes with something extra. You chose quite well, I must say."

  She shook her head. He was being awfully kind to her, but she could not allow him to pretend for her sake.

  "No, I chose foolishly. Estelle wanted a pony the children could ride. I should think it ought to be several weeks, at least, before they can do that now."

  "But how excited they will be when you show up with a foal."

  It was no use. She was not going to let him excuse her incompetence.

  "I was not asked to supply a foal. Thank you for being so gracious, sir, but the truth is I'm a failure. Perhaps you've realized by now that I'm not really an instructor. It's been years since I've even been around horses and Estelle was merely taking pity on me. I have no right to accept her kindness under such pretense. As you can see, I'm the last one who should be giving horse instruction to anyone."

  And now she could see that she'd made him feel badly for her. She turned away so he could not see the tears that were welling up in her stinging eyes, but not before she had a good look at the expression filling his. Pity. Yes, she recognized that all too well.

  Drat, but this had not been her intent. Earlier in the day she hadn't cared one way or the other what his opinion was of her. Now, however, the idea that he should feel nothing more than pity nearly broke her heart.

  That heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she suddenly felt his hands—hot like glowing embers—on her shoulders. He turned her back to face him. When she could not bring herself to look up into his eyes, to see that aching pity again, he put his fingers to her chin and tipped her head up. She had no choice but to meet those eyes.

  "Don't ever think you have no right to accept kindness from anyone," he said firmly.

  He spoke in a voice she'd not heard before. It was a kind voice, warm and gentle, yet it assured her no argument would be tolerated. Not that she had any left in her.

  "Yes, my lord."

  But he would not release her. She was captive there, held in his fiery grip and frozen by his icy eyes. Only... they were not so icy now. In fact, they were blazing with an intensity that seemed to be building even as she watched. She doubted she could have escaped him if she'd tried.

  Which she didn't.

  She was very glad she didn't, in fact. Escaping would have made her miss out on the wonderful, tender way he slipped his arms around her and pulled her tight up against himself. Heavens! She felt like she could melt into his warmth and hide there from the world forever. The warmth, however, soon turned to an inferno when his lips came down upon hers.

  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.

  Chapter 6

  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 spent 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 softly to the pony and stroking its velvet, gray head, she was still only feet away. She might not be looking at him, but th
e 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 straw and gathered some blankets."