Page 37 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

Stricken, Maria began to struggle in earnest. A hard ridge ground into the lower part of her stomach, unmistakably the very large bulge of his erection. If she could not get away from him, Lord Wetherby would surely push her to the ground and take her right here. She remembered well the heat and urgency Alan had shown when they had been here, at Kersey Hall, dallying before they were married. She and Jane had visited Lord Sinclaire’s estate, not far from the Hall, and she and Alan had met almost daily. The memory of how, once he had become aroused, it had been impossible to deny him anything came back sharply to her now. Now his kinsman, with a similar reputation as a rogue, seemed very like that as well.

Panic shot through her and she struggled in earnest against him, twisting to and fro. Her right hand he had immobilized, but her other was free. She slapped him on the back, though it was like hitting a wall, impervious to the blow. “Lord Wetherby, let me go!”

Ignoring her, he loosened her wounded hand and grabbed her around the waist. “I have been trying to catch you for weeks, sweet cousin. Why ever would I let you go now?”

“Stop this, my lord.” She pushed against him, but it was like trying to move a large boulder. The man was hard as granite. “Let me go!”

“Shhh, they’ll hear you.”

Scream. She could bring rescue with a simple shout. Gasping for breath, Maria filled her lungs and opened her mouth, only to have his plastered onto her before she could make a sound. His tongue shot into her mouth, thrusting in and out, making her almost gag as he delved deeper and deeper. She pushed again on his shoulders but couldn’t find a purchase on his jacket, so the heels of her hands slid harmlessly upward and off the garment. What could she do?

He’d bent her backward over his arm, pressing her so far she could see the sky directly above them. In a flash of intuition, she lifted both her legs off the ground. He’d tipped them so far off balance that they crashed to the ground. His arms had released her as he struggled to regain his footing, so Maria managed to fling herself away from him as they hit the ground. Unfortunately, the fall knocked the wind out of her and she lay staring at the sky once more, struggling to draw breath back into her lungs. Groaning and cursing from close by told her Lord Wetherby had not suffered any grievous harm. An eternity passed as she lay hitching in little gulps of air, praying that she would recover before Lord Wetherby could rouse himself and attack her again.

With a huge effort, she rolled to her side and struggled to her feet. Lord Wetherby had landed face-first on the ground, his head apparently coming down on a rock. He bled, though not copiously, from a gash on his forehead.

“What the devil is going on here?”

Maria whirled around to find Mr. Granger, face darkened with rage, speeding toward them. Right behind him were Jane, Miss Granger, and James Garrett.

Jane darted forward and pulled Maria into her arms. “Are you all right, my dear?”

Although still shaken, Maria nodded. Best for them all if she said nothing about what had just occurred. At least not publicly. “I am fine. There was a . . . little accident. Lord Wetherby took the worst of it I believe.”

“Anthony.” James Garrett dashed forward to assist his brother to rise, the latter groaning and clutching his head.

“Lady Kersey, tell me what happened.” Mr. Granger had come to her side, although he still sent deadly glances at Lord Wetherby.

Sighing, Maria cut her gaze briefly to Jane. Her cousin would understand and forgive the lie she was about to tell. Hopefully convincing enough that Mr. Granger would accept her word, or want to believe her enough to do so. “One of those freakish accidents you read about in The Times, Mr. Granger. Rather stupid really.”

Lord Wetherby was on his feet now, glaring at her while pressing his handkerchief to his forehead. He’d likely agree with the tale she was about to tell, as it would not paint him as the villain he actually was.

His gaze darting suspiciously between her and Lord Wetherby, Mr. Granger nodded. “Go on.”

Keeping Jane’s admonition to keep to the truth as much as possible, Maria launched into her tale with what she hoped was believable excitement. “I was gathering holly boughs and one of the thorny leaves pricked my finger rather deeply. I took off my glove and looked at it, but it was bleeding more heavily than it should have done. Lord Wetherby came to look at it and produced his handkerchief to bind it. As we were standing there, very close together, a huge bird swooped down as if to attack us.”

“A bird?” Mr. Granger’s brows lowered. “What kind of bird?”

“A very large bird. With brown feathers is all I recall. I’m afraid I have no idea what kind of bird it was.” Carefully keeping her gaze away from Mr. Granger’s, Maria continued. “I think it believed we had some kind of food in our hands, because it dove at us out of the blue.”

Mr. Granger narrowed his eyes and peered at her. “Lady Kersey, I hardly think—”

“I believe it was a kestrel, Granger.” Everyone turned to Lord Wetherby, still holding his handkerchief to his head. “It wasn’t especially large, although it probably startled the lady enough that she believed it to be enormous.”

His face a dark study, Mr. Granger folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “You expect me to believe you were attacked by a kestrel?”

“Kestrels are indigenous to this area, Mr. Granger.” Fishing in his pocket, Mr. Garrett drew out a clean handkerchief and passed it to his brother. “I am devoted to the study of birds, so when I was informed we would be removing to Suffolk, I made a study of the birds that inhabit the environs.” Peering at the wound when the bloody linen was removed, he shook his head dispassionately. “No, it’s still bleeding, Anthony. Keep this pressed against it.” He assisted Lord Wetherby calmly and efficiently, seemingly a good man to have in a crisis.

Pity he wasn’t the heir. Maria might possibly have persuaded herself to marry such a man as James Garrett. If there had been no Mr. Granger. The thought drew her attention to the steward, standing there, his attention riveted on her. Their gazes met and her heart raced like a filly on a dry track.

“So what happened when the bird attacked you, Lady Kersey?” The intensity of Mr. Granger’s scrutiny set her stomach to churning. “I did not hear a scream or a shriek, yet the bird was upon you suddenly. Weren’t you startled?”

“I . . . I was so surprised I didn’t have time to scream, Mr. Granger. It all happened so quickly. We were standing here, then we were on the ground.” She stared keenly at Lord Wetherby. A little corroboration would undoubtedly help allay Mr. Granger’s suspicions. “It was . . . sudden.”

“Indeed, it was, Granger.” Lord Wetherby puffed out his chest, as if enjoying the attention or the drama of the scene. “I was looking at the lady’s thumb when out of nowhere the bird attacked me. Hit my forehead. I staggered, but managed to push the lady out of danger before I fell to the ground.”

“You pushed her out of danger?” If Mr. Granger’s face got any redder, he might have an apoplexy.

“Yes.” Maria hung her head. More than anything she hated lying to this man. But it had to be done. For both their sakes. “He did.” She turned to face Lord Wetherby. The weasel smiled at her, beneficent and self-sacrificing, and more than a touch self-satisfied. Gritting her teeth, she paused while summoning the strength to finish the task. “Thank you, Lord Wetherby, for saving me.”