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Chapter 20
Mac shrugged his arms into his coat, the warmth from the day disappearing around the edge of the world.
“’Twas a good day’s work,” Captain Sheffield said, clapping him on the back as they moved toward the horses tied up at the edge of the vale. All of the workmen had gone home, and Charles and Desmond had headed back to the house to change for dinner, leaving Mac, Wright, and their captain at the vale to finish marking the boundaries for the third cottage.
Captain Sheffield sighed, swinging into his saddle. “There is nothing like a full day of hard labor to remind a man that he isn’t young anymore.”
“Speak for yourself,” Wright said, grinning. “I have never felt better. And you, sir, have never looked better. This country air is doing wonders for your health, I am sure.”
Mac chuckled to cover a scoff. Wright was a ridiculous flatterer. “Then I suppose we’ll see you again tomorrow at sunup?”
“Of course,” Wright said quickly. Irritation flashed in his eyes, but he turned away before Mac could answer his look in kind.
They made it through the woods, the captain in the lead, when Mac urged Orion faster, passing the other men on horseback and making a break for the house. He heard Captain Sheffield laughing behind him, but only urged his horse to go faster. Just knowing Mabel was at the house waiting for him strengthened his desire to be there. Working in her vale that day, despite her adamance that she was not bothered by the destruction of her special place, had made him feel close to her. Imagining her wry smile, the way her entire body maintained rigid control even while her eyes danced with amusement. She was incredible, and she was…being carried into the house?
Mac directed Orion toward the front door, sliding from the saddle before his horse had come to a full stop. Tossing the reins to Captain Sheffield, he crossed the drive in large steps, following the footman up to the foyer.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Mabel, his strong, steadfast Mabel, was pale, her face drawn.
Miss Giulia Pepper spoke to the footman and he nodded before heading toward the stairs, Mabel still in his arms. Mac’s stomach recoiled. If Mabel should be in anyone’s arms, it should be his.
He caught up with the man carrying Mabel. “Where are you taking her?”
“To her bedchamber, sir,” the young footman responded. Mabel didn’t spare Mac a glance.
He looked to Miss Pepper following close behind. “Is she hurt? Have you sent for a doctor? What the devil is going on here?”
Miss Pepper paused at the base of the stairs, forcing Mac to halt beside her. “Mabel fell from a ladder and her leg pains her. Yes, I sent for a doctor to see to her, and no, I do not believe there is cause for alarm.”
“How would you know if there is cause or not?” he asked.
She took a sustaining breath, her mouth pinched in disapproval. “I have some healing experience, and I have already looked at the injury myself. It is nothing a good deal of rest cannot heal.”
“I will feel better once the doctor has looked at her,” Mac said. As confident and collected as Miss Pepper appeared, she could not truly know how Mabel fared. She was not a doctor.
She leaned back a little, appraising him. “You are quite concerned, sir.”
He tore his gaze from hers. The last thing he wanted right now was a judgment cast upon him for caring about Mabel.
“She needs her rest, Mr. MacKenzie.”
He glanced at the short woman over his shoulder before ascending the stairs behind the footman. The young man was clearly struggling. He paused on the landing and Mac cut him off.
“Allow me,” he said.
Mabel looked stiff in the arms of the powdered-haired footman. The young man was strapping and tall, but he looked to be struggling, regardless. How far had he carried her? From the stables to the house was a goodly distance.
“I can take her the rest of the way,” Mac said when the footman wouldn’t relinquish Mabel.
The footman glanced between Mabel and Mac, seemingly unsure. But Mac was tired of waiting. He was not a man to sit by and allow others to make up their minds. If something needed doing, he did it. And in this case, he needed to carry Mabel the rest of the way, so the idiot footman didn’t end up dropping her on the stairs.
“I can walk,” Mabel said feebly.
Mac slid his hands under her back, easing her away from the servant. “Don’t do anything foolish,” Mac muttered, pulling Mabel close to his chest. He probably smelled of sweat and dirt, but he didn’t care. He hoped she wouldn’t care either.
“The only foolish thing I’ve done was allow that blasted footman to carry me inside when I can walk perfectly fine,” she said weakly. “I’m certain the whole of the house now thinks I’m on death’s door, but that could not be farther from the truth.”
