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She looked up at the dark grey sky as several more drops hit her face.
“It’s going to pour,” Rangeley said. “How far back to the house?”
“Miles,” she answered with a wince. She didn’t relish a wet ride back. “The gamekeeper’s cabin is not far from here. Perhaps we can weather the storm there?”
“Good idea. Hopefully we find Lord Smith along the way.”
Millie searched the trail. She didn’t know how far behind them Lord Smith was, but they were nearly upon the turn off for the cabin. “If we don’t, he knows the way. Lord Smith spends more time here than he does at his own home.”
They continued on, the rain beginning to fall in earnest, and they kicked their horses faster, reaching the cabin as the sky opened up, dropping a torrent of rain.
There was a simple lean-to, to keep the horses dry, and Rangeley sent Millie inside while he attended the animals.
She raced in, drawing in a deep breath as she closed the door to the pouring rain. While the day was warm, her clothes were already damp and a chill shivered over her skin. A fire was set to light in the hearth and she crossed the room, working quickly to start it. The crackling warmth gave her something to pretend to watch, as her eyes continually strayed to the window, where she could see Rangeley at work.
With sure hands, he removed the wet blankets from the horse’s back and brushed down their bodies. His body was fluid and strong as he quickly worked. And then with a pat to both animals, he dashed out from the cover of the lean-to toward the cabin.
Millie straightened, her arms wrapping about her middle as he came through the door.
“A fire,” he said with a smile as he pulled off his wet gloves. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “Our gamekeeper is smart to have one prepared, even in the summer. With this rain…” She looked out as the water fell in sheets.
Rangeley crossed to the fire too, his wet clothes beginning to steam as he stood close to the flames and close to her.
“Thank you for lighting it,” he said, holding out his hands. “It’s amazing how quickly one can grow cold when wet.”
She turned toward him, suddenly concerned. “Are you cold? Should you take off your jacket to allow it to dry?”
“Perhaps,” he answered, reaching for a sleeve. The jacket was wet enough that he tugged on the sleeve but the coat didn’t move.
“Allow me to help,” Millie said, stepping closer and pulling on his right sleeve until the jacket broke free of his arm. Once it came loose, she reached for the other, her body bending close to his.
She reached for the sleeve, wrapping her fingers about the cuff.
“Millie,” he said, his voice a low timbre that skittered along her skin. She tilted her chin up, meeting his dark eyes as he stared back down at her.
And then Millie forgot to breathe. He was so close and she could swear he was drifting closer.
She found herself slowly moving up, up to bring her lips closer to his.
Was he going to kiss her? That question pounded through her thoughts, drowning out all others, as his fingers slid across her cheek, cupping her jaw in his large hand.
“Millie,” he said again, her name sounding like a plea.
She wished she knew his given name the way he knew hers. Her lips parted to ask but his gaze drifted down to her mouth and all thought left her head.
His thumb stroked across her cheek. He was so close now. If she just lifted a little more, their lips would meet and she’d have her very first kiss.
