Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas (9 page)

No less grim was the piercing gaze he had fixed upon her face. She squirmed slightly under the severe scrutiny, though it was impossible to break away from the glittering intensity of his hazel eyes. 

No, she realized, they were not exactly hazel, for they had the most interesting flecks of molten gold—

“Well, she appears to be conscious.” The stranger looked away, and Emma was vaguely aware of Charles hovering somewhere behind him. His gaze quickly shifted back to her and then to the massive tree trunk and the patch of ice in front of it.

“Good Lord,” he muttered with ill-concealed disdain. “How could anyone be so cork-brained as to attempt such a stunt in these conditions?”

She managed to prop herself up on one elbow. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I am accorded to be an
excellent
rider.”

The stranger’s brow arched up. “It would appear that such praise is completely unwarranted.” There was a slight pause. “Thank God your horse wasn’t seriously injured.”

Emma gasped, first at the rudeness of his words, and then at the fact that he started to run his hands down the length of her arms and then her legs. “How dare you—
ouch
!”

The stranger leaned back on his haunches. “I don’t think any bones are broken,” he said to Charles. “But the ankle appears to be badly sprained. I suppose we shall have to move her to Hawthorne House for the present. Fetch her horse while I take her up.”

“But—” began Emma. The protest was muffled in the folds of his coat as he lifted her into his arms with one easy motion. To her dismay, she saw that her cousin had jumped to obey the man’s curt command.

“Put me down!” she snapped. “I do not wish for you to—”

“Stop squirming,” he ordered. “Lest you wish to add to your collection of bruises by taking a second tumble to the ground.” His arms drew her closer to his chest. “Though perhaps another thump would knock some sense into that brainbox of yours.”

She fell silent and ceased her struggling, taking care to avoid any further eye contact with the stranger. Harder to ignore was the corded strength of his shoulders or the heat emanating from his broad chest. From her precarious position, it was clear that he was at least several inches taller than her cousin and a good deal more muscular. Despite her own considerable height, he carried her through the orchard as if she weighed no more than a feather.

“Odious man,” she whispered under her breath, thinking of his last rude comment. For an instant, Emma thought she detected a faint chuckle, but when she ventured a surreptitious peek at his face, the same hard expression was etched on his features.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes. Awful though he was, the ordeal would be over in a trice, she reminded herself. Thank heavens one of her father’s carriages would soon be arriving to take her home.

N
oel Trumbull
, newly acceded to the title of Lord Kirtland, stared out the mullioned windows and let out a harried sigh. Of all the dratted luck! He had enough to worry about without being stuck dancing attendance on some spoiled heiress, no matter that she had hair like spun gold and eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea in summer.

His lips compressed. Oh, yes, Lady Emma Pierson was attractive all right. And the wealthy heiress damn well knew it, be reminded himself. Even though he had only spent a week in London on his return from the Peninsula, he had heard Lady Emma’s name mentioned as being one of the brightest Diamonds of the Season. And then he had seen her from afar at Lady Hightower’s ball—and had felt the air squeezed from his lungs.

She was, in a word, breathtaking. The perfect picture of loveliness, grace, and vitality.

What a pity that her beauty appeared to be only skin-deep.

Granted, he had been inclined to think ill of her before ever meeting her, as his good friend Augustus Taverhill had mentioned how Lady Emma had written a hurtful poem about his sister.

One mistake could, of course, be forgiven as an error of judgment. But his first impression confirmed that she was both arrogant and waspish—traits he abhorred in anyone, be they male or female. He could only hope that one of her father’s carriages would soon be arriving to take her home.

“Lord Kirtland. . .”

Noel quickly turned and crossed the carpet. But such hopes were quickly dashed by the terse pronouncement of the doctor examining Lady Emma, who was now lying on the sofa of his drawing room.

“Tis a nasty twist, Lady Emma,” he announced with a cluck of his tongue. “I’m afraid there is no question of you being moved until the swelling has gone down.”

But—” began both Emma and Noel at once.

They stopped short. Noel then clamped his jaw firmly shut, regretting that surprise had wrested any show of emotion out of him. He moved to the hearth, determined to keep to himself just how unwelcome the announcement was.

The last thing he needed was yet another responsibility weighing on his shoulders as Christmas approached. It would be difficult enough creating the proper spirit of the holidays without the presence of a conceited stranger in their home.

It quickly became clear that the young lady was no more pleased with the announcement than he was.

“I would not dream of imposing on this gentleman’s gracious hospitality any longer than I already have,” she said with unveiled sarcasm. “Surely my ankle can tolerate a short carriage ride.”

The doctor shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He pushed his spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose. “The injury should heal without any lasting ill effects, but only if great care is taken now. And even if I were to consider the request, it would not be possible, given the state of the lane leading here. It has been unused for so long that it is hardly better than a cart track. Any ride over such jolts and ruts could cause further damage.”

“Charles could take me up on Orion—” she began.

The doctor waved away the suggestion. “Now, don’t be foolish, Lady Emma. You are very fortunate that Hawthorne House has lately become inhabited. You will be quite comfortable here.”

“Ha!” she muttered under her breath.

“It will only be for a short time,” piped up Charles, slanting an uneasy glance at Noel. “That is, if you have no objections, Lord Kirtland.”

“It appears there is little choice in the matter,” he replied grimly. With a tone designed to match the young lady’s earlier mocking politeness, he added, “Though I must warn Lady Emma that we are hardly able to entertain her in the style to which she is no doubt accustomed.”

He watched Emma’s lovely features twist into a scowl. “But it’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “Robert and his friends are arriving soon for the holidays. And Papa. And your friend Mr. Harkness. Just think of all the fun I shall be missing.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And my ankle is beginning to throb unmercifully.”

Noel couldn’t help himself. “Dear me, life is indeed horribly fair, to have heaped such unconscionable suffering upon your poor head,” he muttered under his breath.

“I shall ride back this afternoon with a number of your things, Em,” said Charles quickly, seeking to forestall any further comment from his cousin. “And, of course, we shall all come visit and spend as much time—”

“No. I’m afraid that will not be possible.” Noel folded his arms across his chest and calmly regarded the two startled faces that turned his way. “My sister is still recovering from the death of her husband. I’ll not have my family and household turned on its ear because the Duke of Telford’s daughter imagines she cannot live without constant amusement. One visitor, for one hour a day. That is all I will allow.”

His eyes met hers. “You’ll survive.”

Emma’s chin came up. “Shall you keep me on bread-and-water rations, too? I imagine that is all a man of your strict temperament would deign to feed his troops.”

Noel gave a humorless laugh.
“
If
bread and water was to be had, my troops were infinitely grateful for it, Lady Emma. On the battlefields of the Peninsula, liveried servants do not appear at the ring of a bell with silver salvers.”

Noting she at least had the grace to color, he went on, “Neither will they here. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some rather more important matters to attend to.”

Turning on his heel, he quit the room, making no attempt to prevent the door from closing with a pronounced thump.

That should make it clear to the pampered little minx that he would not dance attendance on her like everyone else did, he thought as he walked down the narrow corridor toward the kitchen. It was quite evident that “no” was not a word with which she was intimately acquainted.

But she did have some spirit, he was forced to admit. He had half expected her to tum into a watering pot or lapse into a fit of hysterics on hearing his announcement. Instead, she had met his deliberate roughness with a show of spunk.

A faint smile crept to his lips. Her comment about bread and water showed she had a sharp sense of humor as well. And more than a little courage. Although he had made light of her injury, he knew it must be a very painful one. In all fairness to her, she had born the discomfort with a soldier’s fortitude, making no complaint until that moment.

He made a wry face. Perhaps the young lady had more to her than he had first thought. However, that was hardly any concern to him. As he had told Lady Emma and her cousin, he had a good deal of other things to occupy his mind.

Picking up the hammer and chisel that he had left lying on the scarred pine table, he turned his attention back to trying to loosen a rusted bolt on the door of the iron stove. The house had been sadly neglected by his predecessors, but until he could make a final assessment of the late baron’s finances, he was determined not to incur expenses that he could ill afford. For the time being, most of the rambling structure would remain closed off, save for the small wing where he and his family had taken up residence.

It, too, needed a good deal of attention to make it a snug place to live, so he had determined to do much of the menial labor himself. He didn’t mind—he disliked being idle, and the work would keep him busy until he could make long range plans and see about hiring a proper crew of workmen. Besides, it gave him a sense of satisfaction to see the improvements take shape with each passing day.

By Christmas Eve, he vowed, the fires would burn without smoking, the draperies would be free of dust, and the hearths would be polished and hung with greenery. He wanted Anna and Toby to have a snug, cheery home in which to celebrate their first holiday without James.

But try as he might to concentrate on the task at hand, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to their unexpected guest.

She was no milk-and-water miss, that was for sure. He preferred a lady who had opinions of her own, but whether Lady Emma’s spirit was indicative of merely a headstrong nature or other, more exemplary qualities, he wasn’t sure.

What he did know was that it was hard to find fault with the lush fullness of her lips, even when they were pursed in a pout. As for the spark in her eyes , it was  intriguing.

To his dismay, he found it impossible to banish the picture of a mass of spun-gold curls and the way her chin came up in a saucy tilt when she was angry. He supposed it was only natural to feel the stirrings of physical attraction for a beautiful lady, but his reaction to this particular one only caused his mood to turn blacker.

It grew even worse when a careless swing of the hammer caught a sharp blow to his thumb. Swearing under his breath, Noel gave it a shake, then clenched his jaw. No doubt Lady Emma already had a legion of besotted young men making cakes of themselves over her.

He would not add to their ranks.

And yet, whatever the young lady’s faults, she radiated a certain vitality. Lord, if only a single spark of Lady Emma’s lively fire might be rekindled in Anne  .

The kitchen door opened, and his sister and her young son came in with a basket full of fresh-cut pine boughs.

“Joseph says there has been some kind of accident,” she said in concern as she fumbled with the knots of her bonnet.

Noel pulled a face. “It’s nothing serious. Telford’s daughter has taken a tumble from her horse and twisted an ankle. The doctor and her cousin are with her now.”

He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. “The bad news is that it appears we are to be saddled with the lady until she is well enough to be moved.”

“Oh, dear, I had best go see if there is anything I can do to be of help.”

“Anne!”

His sharp tone caused her to stop in mid-stride.

“The chit is not at death’s door. Much as she might wish it, she’s not in need of someone to wait hand and foot on her.”

“But I don’t mind—”

“That’s not the point,” he continued doggedly. “You are as much a guest under my roof as she is. It’s bad enough that you must help with household tasks until I see what staff we can afford, but I won’t have you reduced to serving as a maid for some pampered aristocrat.”

Anne’s brow furrowed. “Surely the young lady cannot be as bad as all that.”

“Ha,” he muttered, then added another expression for good measure.

His young nephew had been listening to the exchange with great interest.

“The Devil take it?” he repeated. “What is he taking, Uncle Noel? And where is he taking it?”

“Tobias!” chided his mother. “You are not to use such improper language.”

“Sorry,” growled Noel with an apologetic shrug. “I shall try to set a better example.” Reaching out, he ruffled the lad’s tousled curls. “The Devil is taking me to task for using such horrid cant in front of your mother. Let it be a lesson of what you should
not
say in the presence of a lady.”

His nephew gave a solemn nod.

“Now, I need another man to give me a hand in fixing the stove. Will you help hold my tools while I work at this bolt?”

Toby gave a delighted grin and turned away to take up the hammer.

“I could not wish for a better example for my son, Noel,” said Anne quietly, a wistful smile stealing across her pale features. “Save of course for. . .” Her voice broke off, and she looked away.

“Well,” she continued after a moment in a brisker voice. “While you two are occupied here, I best see about setting one of the extra bedchambers in readiness for our guest.”

* * *

“
I
vow
, Charles, I would rather hop back to Telford Manor on one leg than stay here,” grumbled Emma as the doctor left the small drawing room. She looked at her cousin through lowered lashes and gave a long sigh. “Orion’s gait is smooth as silk. Surely you could take me up behind you without any trouble.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He crossed his arms. “You may wrap half the young bucks in Town around your little finger, but I know you too well to succumb to your wiles, Em. One disaster is enough for the day.”

He paused for a fraction as she fixed him with an imploring look. “You heard the doctor. It would be foolish to risk further damage, so I’ll not be swayed by any pleading or wheedling. The baron is right—several days of quiet recuperation here will not be an undue hardship.”

“But he is an odious man!”

“Because he stands firm in the face of your entreaties?” Charles countered with a glimmer of a smile. “Unlike any other gentlemen of your acquaintance.”

“Wretch,” she muttered. “So you truly mean to abandon me here with an ill-tempered martinet and a grieving widow?”

He didn’t budge.

“It seems a poor way to inspire any spirit of Christmas merriment,” she went on. “Whatever shall I do, since Lord Kirtland seems incapable of civil conversation and forbids me any more congenial company?”

“You might spend some time giving thanks for the fact that you were not seriously injured,” said Charles mildly. “After all, Christmas is not just a season for frivolity and fun, but a time to consider our blessings.”

As a slow burn rose to her cheeks, Emma suddenly felt a prickling of shame. “Do you really think me so shallow?” she asked in a small voice.