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Chapter Twenty
‘There’s four bitches and one male.’ Ned Parker leaned his enormous frame on the gate of the stall while Archie cooed in ecstasy beside him at the boisterous puppies wrestling one another around an obviously tired black and white collie. ‘Ophelia, the mother, is my best sheepdog and has the sweetest temperament. The father is one of my hunting dogs.’ He jerked his head out towards his stable yard where an enormous brute of a dog glared at them from behind a fence as if he fancied them for dinner. ‘But Falstaff is his own dog. Loyal to a fault if you are one of the few humans he can tolerate, but woe betide anyone who annoys him.’
‘He’s a big animal.’ Much bigger than Rafe had anticipated living with. ‘What breed is he?’
Ned studied the beast for a moment then shrugged. ‘Hard to say but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some wolf in his lineage.’ Good grief! ‘Along with a good smidge of gun dog. Take it from me, nothing beats his nose. He can sniff out a duck or a pheasant at five hundred yards—perhaps further.’ Falstaff eyed them all like prey as they gathered around his young family. ‘He’s the undisputed leader of the pack on this farm, that’s for certain, and he terrifies any would-be poachers.’ By the looks of the huge fangs framing his massive jaw, Falstaff could rip them apart and without too much trouble.
‘He’s a gentle giant though,’ offered Sophie beside him. ‘Much like his master.’ She smiled at Ned in affection and Rafe almost gnashed his teeth in irrational jealousy when Ned smiled back in the same soppy vein.
He blamed the kiss and the aftermath of it because both had knocked him sideways then left him up in the air. Hours and hours later and he was still none the wiser about what any of it had meant. There hadn’t been the need to say any words during their fervent lovemaking—not that Rafe could have spoken he was so consumed and overawed by it. After they had both collapsed exhausted side by side on the pillow, he had fallen into instant, blissful sleep and she hadn’t been beside him when he had woken up. He had no idea if she had slept beside him and crept out at dawn, or if she had done so the second he had drifted off. Either way he felt irrationally abandoned by it all.
Then she had avoided either breakfast—or simply him—and the window of opportunity to talk about it all had firmly closed because his brother was bouncing off the walls in excitement to fetch his promised puppy from Ned. Sophie then materialised out of hiding to join them in the carriage, as pretty as a picture and as cool as a cucumber, behaving as if nothing at all had happened between them. Which, true to form, did not bode well for his foolish heart. Not that he was even sure that he wanted it to bode well, because his irrational infatuation with the witch and the speed at which it had all escalated had caught him off guard and unprepared. Woefully unprepared and totally unarmed. Especially as he had a sneaking suspicion that, unlike Annabel, Sophie actually possessed the power to break his heart and that, frankly, scared the living daylights out of him.
‘Which one is mine?’ Archie was champing at the bit to get to the puppies.
‘Whichever one chooses you, young man, as that is the way of things with dogs. The best, most loyal hounds always pick their own master. Therefore, once I let you in, you must stand as still as a statue and wait to see which of the pups fancies you.’
By the law of averages that meant that there was more chance of Archie leaving today with a female than not—but knowing Rafe’s luck and fate’s warped sense of humour, those averages meant nothing. ‘Can you at least remove the boy before he goes in.’ He whispered this out of the corner of his mouth so that his brother would not hear. ‘Otherwise the poor thing will be saddled with the name Mary.’ Which, judging by the size and fearsome shape of its father, would be a travesty of epic proportions.
‘Easier said than done.’ Ned huffed at the inconvenience, regarding Rafe as if he were an idiot. ‘At this age it’s not apparent unless you lift the blighters up to check their credentials.’
‘Which is a job of less than a minute, you old curmudgeon.’ Sophie nudged Ned in a way that looked a bit too flirty for Rafe’s liking. ‘So go check and stop being belligerent.’
With another put upon groan, and only because she asked him, the human tree undid the bolt to do just that, but as he opened the gate with much too deliberate slowness, he allowed Rafe’s over-excited little brother to dart beneath his armpit.
‘Who fancies me then?’ Archie spoke to the puppies, all of whom were more interested in clambering all over one another than in him. ‘Which of you fancies me as your new master?’
‘Stand still, Archie.’ Sophie caught his coat before he threw himself at the dogs and rolled amongst them, begging them to like him. ‘You have to wait for one to come to you.’
‘And Ned has to check them all first.’ The moment Rafe uttered those words, one of the puppies untangled itself from the fray and studied Archie with interest. Then, as if drawn by some powerful cosmic force beyond its control, it scampered towards him and pawed at his leg.
‘Looks like the dog has spoken.’ Ned backed out of the stall palms raised and a smug expression on his face. ‘Not much point checking those credentials now that the die is cast.’
‘Hello, Mary.’ Delighted, his brother bent to pick the animal up and giggled as it licked his face. ‘You are coming home with me today.’
‘And Mary has been christened.’ Ned grinned at Rafe, enjoying himself far too much. ‘Wouldn’t it be marvellous if it is the only boy in the litter?’ By the evil twinkle in his eye, it was obvious his burly nemesis was wishing it upon him. He reached one meaty hand over the gate and unpeeled the little dog from his brother’s face. ‘I need to borrow Mary for a moment, young man, then she—or he—is all yours.’
‘And is it?’ Before Ned even had time to check, Rafe knew that was a stupid question, because of course Mary would be the only boy. That was exactly the sort of prank fate would enjoy playing on him and yet another reason why he had to live miles from another living soul in the middle of nowhere.
Ned winced, though his eyes were filled with mirth as he turned the squirming pup towards them and the tiny wisp that would one day be the main feature of his canine wedding vegetables revealed itself in all its taunting glory. ‘I’m afraid so.’ Then he threw back his head and laughed as he handed it back to Archie. ‘Good job he’s going to be a huge dog else he’d never carry it off.’ As his brother cradled the dog in instant adoration, Ned couldn’t resist putting the boot in further. ‘Mary will likely howl all night for his mother once you get him home, but that is normal. If you love Mary and play with Mary and feed Mary the best roast chicken and salmon then he’ll bond with you and forget his mother in no time. You will become Mary’s everything.’ Rafe was in no doubt the wretch was repeating the name to cement it fast in his brother’s mind.
‘The name Mary isn’t set in stone yet, is it, Archie? Especially now that we know your dog is a boy.’ At his brother’s horrified expression, he tried to sound conciliatory, knowing full well Archie would dig his heels in if Rafe tried to change his mind. ‘And especially as there are some fine similar-sounding masculine names with only four letters too. Like Mark for example, which only changes one letter and suits that handsome puppy so well.’ He turned to Sophie rather than Ned, hoping she would at least support him in his hour of need. ‘What do you think of the name Mark?’
‘I like it. It’s strong. It’s noble and it is majestic.’ She beamed at Archie, nodding. ‘Mark would be a very fitting name for your puppy. I also like Fred as that has a nice ring to it and suits him far better than Mary ever could.’
Archie hugged the precious bundle in his arms tighter, his expression utterly betrayed. ‘But it has always been my dream to have a dog called Mary. Why would you crush my dreams, Rafe?’
‘The dog was the dream and that has come true. You thought up the name Mary less than a month ago.’ As Rafe’s impatience leaked out, Sophie touched his shoulder to stay him and, without realising it, set his body alight once more.
‘I say we take this little fellow home to give him a chance to settle in—don’t you think so?—and wait until he reveals his true character. As I am sure Ned will agree...’ She shot the malicious tree a look which warned him to keep his big, meddling mouth shut. ‘In much the same way as a dog has to pick its own owner, the dog also has to pick his own name else he’ll never come when called. Isn’t that right, Ned?’
Ned wavered then nodded with as much reluctance as it was physically possible to put into the gesture. ‘Aye—that’s right.’
‘So I cannot call him Mary?’ Archie was crestfallen.
‘Of course you can.’ Sophie stroked his cheek and then the puppy’s head. ‘But in the same way as you have several names, Archibald Leo Peel, you might have to settle for Mary as the middle name if the dog doesn’t like it.’
Slightly placated, Archie followed her to the stable yard still cradling the pup. ‘But how will we know if he likes the name or not?’
