The Earl Claims a Bride (11 page)

In the house with the noisy dogs or the quiet of the garden? Harrison handed the woman his hat and gloves. “Perhaps I could just join her in the garden. Do you think that would be possible, Mrs.—?”

The woman smiled shyly, clearly flattered he wanted to know her name. “Oh, my name is Bickmore, your lordship. Mrs. Bickmore. And yes, if you say it’s all right to visit with her in the garden who am I to say different. It’s fine by me. I wouldn’t ever question an earl, but I don’t think Sam’s going to like it.”

Sam?

Harrison knew Miss Rule was an only child so it wasn’t possible Sam was her brother. Did she have another suitor? Was Sam the army captain? Perhaps he was a relative. But surely the housekeeper wouldn’t call a guest by his Christian name. In any case, the polite thing to do would be to stay in the drawing room and wait until the gentleman left, but how often had Harrison ever done the polite thing.

“Is Sam with her now?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. I’d like to meet him.”

A worried expression twisted her face as she laid his hat and gloves aside. “He’s not the friendly sort, if you know what I mean.”

No doubt the man was a pompous blade and would not take kindly to an earl intruding on his time with the lovely miss. But that didn’t give Harrison a moment’s hesitation.

“I do,” Harrison acknowledged. “That won’t bother me.” He wasn’t the friendly sort, either, so they would get along very well together.

“I’ll take you to her,” she said and started lumbering down the corridor.

Harrison followed the woman to the back of the house. She opened the door and moved aside so Harrison could walk past her and out onto the stoop. He caught a glimpse of Miss Rule sitting in a chair looking as if she was bending over something. The next thing Harrison saw was something large, dark, and growling loping toward him.

Miss Rule rose and yelled, “Sam! Stop!”

The brindle-colored dog kept coming and growling. “Sam,” she called again and started toward them.

The dog knew his mistress’s voice. He skidded to a stop at the bottom step, giving Harrison a curled-lip, wide-stance warning, a low growl coming out of his strong jaws.

“Sam, sit,” Miss Rule added in a strong voice.

Sam immediately rested on his haunches but kept his big black eyes locked on Harrison. By the looks of the animal, he was at least part bull terrier. His shoulders and legs were muscular and sturdy but thankfully he wasn’t as large as most of his breed. Harrison knew to be respectful of the dog’s territory so he remained perfectly still when he heard Mrs. Bickmore close the door behind him. Bull terriers were faithful to their masters but wouldn’t hesitate to threaten a stranger.

Not wanting to appear aggressive to the growling dog, Harrison didn’t look him directly in the eyes but said under his breath, “Don’t worry, ol’ chap. I promise not to touch her. At least while you’re around.”

Harrison kept his attention on Miss Rule. She walked toward him with an easy, confident stroll. She wore a paint-stained apron over a pale-gray dress. A brown woolen shawl covered her shoulders and was knotted at her breasts. A narrow green ribbon, tied neatly in a bow underneath her chin, held a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head. Her long golden-brown tresses flowed from beneath the hat and shimmered in the sunlight.

She was dressed nothing like the beautiful, expensively gowned goddess he’d seen three nights before, but for some reason he was even more captivated by the way she looked today. She reminded him of a mountain stream in the first few days of spring. Cool, clear, and refreshing. Her casual, at-home look made her appear chaste, wholesome, and very approachable. The flush on her cheeks was becoming, and he wondered if the pink tint was from his unexpected arrival or from the sun.

She stopped by the dog and patted him on his big head, then rubbed the side of his neck. “You are such a brute, Sam. I will have to apologize for your inhospitable welcome to his lordship.”

Inhospitable? That’s putting the greeting far nicer than it actually was.

“Go lie down, Sam,” she added.

The brindle hesitated. Miss Rule patted him again and lightly shoved his head, urging him to move away. Obviously satisfied, for the time being at least, that Harrison was no threat to his mistress, Sam turned and walked over to where her chair was and lay down.

“He minds well,” Harrison offered. “I’m afraid I will have to apologize to Mrs. Bickmore.”

Miss Rule gave him a curious look. “Why is that?”

“She told me Sam wasn’t the friendly sort. I didn’t believe her.”

“He’s protective of me but he’s never failed to obey me.”

“I’m not sure that gives me comfort.”

She gave him a knowing smile. He could tell she loved it that her dog had caught him off guard.

“I had no idea you were coming today.” She looked down at her soiled apron and paint-marked fingers. She quickly put her hands behind her back. “You caught me completely unprepared for guests, my lord. Mrs. Bickmore should have checked with me before she showed you into the garden.”

Harrison remembered how the housekeeper had yelled at the dogs. She was obviously not fond of them and probably didn’t want to tangle with Sam.

“No need to be harsh with Mrs. Bickmore,” he said, descending the two steps to stand in front of her. “I didn’t give her much choice in the matter.”

“That I can believe,” Miss Rule said, untying the sash of her apron. “Why don’t we go back inside? I’ll have some tea prepared, or something stronger if you wish.”

“I had my cook prepare a basket of refreshments. I thought you might enjoy a ride in the park this afternoon.”

He liked the surprise he saw in her eyes. “Does this mean you have an answer for me?”

He smiled. No reason to hurry the afternoon. “Perhaps. Let’s take a ride and you will find out.”

She turned loose of the apron sash and started untying her shawl. “And a ride with me would help you make up your mind?”

He tilted his head and gave her a small grin but committed to nothing.

“The ride would have been nice on such a lovely day, but my father isn’t home to give approval so I couldn’t possibly accept.”

“What about Lady Railbridge, your grandmother?”

“She’s isn’t available to consent, either. Every Thursday afternoon she goes to visit a friend who is ill.”

Harrison had thoughts that had no business being in his mind. What were the odds he’d arrive when Miss Rule’s only chaperones were a housekeeper and a snarling dog?

“Then I suggest we stay in the garden and save the ride for another afternoon.”

“I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t approve of us being out here alone, but I suppose it will be all right if you don’t stay too long.”

He watched as she untied the knots at the ends of her shawl. Her fingers were slender, nimble, and marked with various colors of paint.

“Would you like for me to hold your shawl while you remove your apron?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, seeming pleased that he’d offer. “If you don’t mind.”

She extended it to him and as she did she noticed the paint on her fingers and quickly closed her hands into fists. Harrison chuckled softly. “Too late to hide them now. I’ve already seen them. Nice colors by the way.” He took hold of the shawl and slipped it through her fingers.

She laughed, too. “I’m glad you approve, but again, my grandmother would not.”

A soft smile lifted just one corner of her lips and Harrison felt warmth and tightness surge through his loins. She was more than fetching. She was downright desirable.

He watched as she untied the ribbon under her chin and swept off her hat. He reached for it and she handed it to him. She was naturally sensual and didn’t even know it. Another twinge of desire shuddered through him. He had undressed many ladies over the years but he was certain he’d never before acted the servant’s role for one. He didn’t realize how stimulating it could be. He found her every move tremendously seductive.

She pulled the apron over her head. She wore a simple pale-gray dress with a round neckline that laced up the front of the bodice. The thought of untying those laces gave him ideas he didn’t need to explore when he was alone with her in a garden. It would be too easy to pull her to him and see if her lips were as soft and tasty as they looked.

“Excuse me, my lord,” she said, looking behind her. “I forgot to cover my work.”

Harrison followed her over to a table where her painting supplies were scattered. “What did I interrupt?” he asked, catching a glimpse of a fan with columns and a chandelier painted on it before she covered it with a tin dome.

“Nothing important,” she said, averting her eyes from his and laying her apron on top of the dome. “I don’t like to leave my paints unprotected. Insects have been known to land in them and create quite a mess.”

It surprised him that she hid her work so quickly. Most young ladies were eager to show him their stitchery or paintings, or read him their poetry. Miss Rule shielded hers as if it wasn’t very good, or she didn’t want him to see it. That was refreshing.

“What were you painting?” he asked.

“I paint different scenes,” she said, rubbing some of the pigment from her hand with her thumb. “On lids to snuff and mourning boxes, fans, and miniatures. The usual things.” Then, as if realizing the paint wasn’t going to come off, she reached for her hat and he gave it to her.

While Harrison was thinking it was a sin to cover her glorious long curls with that brown straw, he felt something wet and cold on the tips of his fingers and realized that Sam had decided it was time to walk over and sniff him. It took all his willpower but Harrison forced himself to keep his arm hanging still at his side and let the big animal sniff him wherever he wished so the dog would become comfortable with him.

“Your father obviously likes dogs,” he said.

She laughed lightly as she loosely tied the ribbon under her chin.

“Why does that amuse you?” Harrison asked.

“Sam, leave Lord Thornwick alone and go lie down. Now,” she ordered, giving him a firm stare. The dog obeyed and wandered away. She continued. “My father doesn’t like animals of any kind. He indulges me from time to time and allows me to keep a stray who happens by our house, but not often.”

“Sam was a stray?”

“Yes, he was wounded and starving when I found him. I nursed him back to health.”

“No wonder he is so protective of you.”

“I think it’s natural for his breed to be that way. He has some bull terrier in him I’m sure, though what the other breeds mixed in might be I have no idea. He gets along well with the other dogs and that’s what matters.”

Harrison knew another woman who liked to take in strays and wounded animals. But she wasn’t a woman he could introduce to Miss Rule. In her time, Mrs. Olivia Vaughan was legendary as the highest-paid mistress in London, and she loved dogs, too.

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

“All strays?”

“Yes. Rascal was the first and is the oldest and part hound. The newest addition is Mr. Pete. He’s a puppy and I think he might be part beagle.” She paused. “Well, we really have four dogs as my father often reminds me. My grandmother has a Maltese but she is so small she hardly counts. And she wasn’t a stray. It’s always important to my grandmother that people know Molly is the only purebred dog in the house.”

His gaze swept easily down her face and then back up to her eyes. So Miss Rule was not only very loyal to a father who would force her to marry a man she didn’t love in order to save his hide, she also had a love for wounded animals. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. He didn’t need one more thing to like about her—but how could he not be drawn to the fact she took in strays and cared for them?

“The wind is picking up. You should put this back on,” he said, holding out her shawl. She reached for it and he said, “Allow me.”

She hesitated only a moment before turning her back to him. He placed it on her shoulders and before she had time to turn around he lifted her long hair from beneath the shawl. It was warm and soft in his hands, and smelled heavenly. He was tempted to lift its weight and bury his face in it.

Everything about her was intoxicating. There was something exciting about her, and something elusive, too. He couldn’t fool himself. He knew what it was. She said her heart belonged to another and as much as he didn’t want it to be so, the fact was, it presented a challenge for him to woo her, and to win her.

Damnation, he didn’t want to pick up that gauntlet. There were too many ladies willing to share his bed, and his life for that matter, to worry with fighting for one who had already made it clear her heart was taken.

But Miss Rule was different from all the others. That was as evident and simple as night and day. And even though she claimed to love someone else, she wasn’t completely uninterested in Harrison, either. He’d watched her look him over with a discerning eye and appreciate what she saw. He was sure of that.

So how hard would it be to win her away from a soldier if he decided he wanted to?

He liked that she was passionate about trying to help her father. Loyalty was an admirable quality in anyone. She was obviously passionate about helping others or she wouldn’t take in the wounded strays. Something told him she’d bring that same spirited passion to her wedding bed.

When she faced him, she looked directly into his eyes and said, “So tell me, my lord, have you decided whether you will help me save my father? Or are you still thinking?”

That was the furthest thing from his mind presently. “I am thinking, Miss Rule, but not about that.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Then what?”

He stepped closer, deliberately towering over her so she would know he was the one in control, and said, “I’m thinking about kissing you.”

She went very still. He watched a flush creep up her pretty neck and into her lovely face. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her, and he no longer wanted to ignore what she was making him feel.

“That wouldn’t be wise, my lord,” she said.

She didn’t tell him no. Encouraged, he said, “Probably not, but I have done many unwise things in my lifetime. What will it hurt to do one more?”