Page 8 of The Recluse and the Runaway

“Yes, sir. I will.”

Chapter Three

Nell had made him a promise, and now she must keep it. In a way, it was a relief to know that she had two more days with him. She wished she might stay forever.

Like a fool, she had fallen in love with him.

Or maybe just with his cheerful kindliness, although he was greatly appealing in other ways, too. She recalled his strong arm around her shivering frame last night, the blessed warmth of his body behind hers, and her whole being heated.

Thank heavens she’d stopped herself just in time from blurting that some part of her wanted him to importune her. A lady would never think such a thing, let alone say it aloud!

In any event, one didn’t fall in love at first sight, or as close to it as made no difference. Still, as she watched him disappear into his study, she couldn’t help but sigh.

The little dog, fluffy and light, a fairylike creature, wagged its plumy tail. “You agree with me, don’t you?” she whispered. “He is the most wonderful man in the world.”

~ ~ ~

Rupert turned to close the door and saw her watching him whilst she knelt to pet the dog. He raised a hand and retreated into the study. An adequate first step had been taken. She seemed to value him, if that was what being unable to lie to him meant.

Mrs. O (if he confided in her, which he wouldn’t) might say that promises were not proof, but he knew better. Or thought he did. Nell had promised to stay till Christmas Day, and he must take advantage of that short, sweet time.

Either she would stay longer, preferably forever, or he would escort her to her destination. He wouldn’t let her leave alone.

He pondered the activities planned for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. He and the other men would fetch the Yule log and gather holly, ivy, and mistletoe. Together, they would all decorate the Great Hall.

He smiled to himself. He wouldn’t be much of a man if he didn’t do his best to kiss her.

Fine, but he mustn’t let even a few hours pass without getting to know her better, and doing his best to make her realize that no matter what she feared, she was safe—would always be safe—with him.

However, he couldn’t hover in the kitchen like a silly fool. He must spend more time alone with her, and therefore he needed an excuse…ah!

He hastened through the study and reached the kitchen just as Nell reentered from the garden, looking subdued and a little sad. Did she too wish she could stay? With him?

How lovely if she were thinking of mistletoe, too—but clearly, she was not.

“Nell! Do you know how to make lamb’s wool?” he asked.

She brightened, her cheer a patina over the sadness. “Why, of course I do, sir!”

“Wonderful. We shall need enough for a tankard for each guest tomorrow—say, fifty or sixty people, perhaps a few more. Have we enough apples?”

“Yes, sir, there are plenty in the larder,” she said. “I’d best check the other supplies, though.” She counted them on her fingers. “Sugar, of course, allspice berries, ginger root, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg.” She all but danced into the pantry to check.

“Have you convinced her to stay?” whispered Millie.

“Not quite,” he said softly. “But I believe she is beginning to trust me, and I shall do my very best.”

Millie clapped her hands, and Peg gave a soft squeak of glee.

Nell reappeared, and he said, “Fetch your coat and hat, Nell. You must come with me to the Green Lady—our nearby inn—to taste what Mr. Hicks has to offer. Rather than brew the ale ourselves, we benefit from his expertise in brewing and buy it from him.”

~ ~ ~

Obediently, Nell dressed for the wintry weather, but when she reached the door, she hesitated. There he stood, gazing up at his house as if deep in thought. He was so strong and handsome, and she was head over heels for him, no doubt about that. Why encourage such foolishness?

Fairy—for that seemed the right name for the little dog—nudged her from behind with one sharp, admonitory yip, and she hurried out the door.

“Nell! There you are. Tell me, what do you think of my house?”