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“Can you retrieve the animal?” he asked, taking hold of her hand after transferring the shovel to his other side, gripping it under his upper arm. “The last thing either of us need after all this is for Lord Grayson to be some wild thing’s dinner.”
“That isn’t amusing.” She gave a sniff, leading him over to a large rock, where she’d left the wrapped frail, furry body.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” He released her fingers and waited while she gathered the animal close. “You have her?”
“Him.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
She bit her lips at the smile that threatened. “Have you a plan?” she asked once she knew her tone would sound even, though for some inane reason she was still battling humor. “You know where we are going? How the deuce can you see?”
“Language, my dear Maryann. Language. Follow close now.”
“Ha. As if deuce bothers you. I daresay you routinely use a host of worst oaths. I should know, Mr. Edwards, for I have heard you use any number of them.” Ever since the lantern gutted, it had been the darkest night in memory.
He tripped over a root and cursed; Anne’s arms huddled over Lord Grayson.
“What the bloody hell makes you think I can see?” She could tell part of that was for her benefit and released the tight hold on her laughter. “How I wish your lantern still had oil.”
As it hadn’t been hers, but borrowed from the Timmonses’, Anne didn’t see the need to comment. Reaching for his back, she grabbed on to a fold in his coat with her free hand, her other cradling the cat, stayed only a pace behind. “I am not usually out so far from home”—what an understatement—“and would have been quite undone had I remained on my own tonight. I admit, now that you have redeemed your churlish beginnings, your presence has been most welcome.”
“Churlish beginnings? My…” He grunted as he turned, using the side of his shoulder to forge a path through some dense brush, holding it back so she could precede him. “My spirits soar at that most enthusiastic of compliments.”
In order to squeeze through, Anne reluctantly released his coat. “You are most welcome.”
As was the unfamiliar tingling that persisted in her lips, the odd pressure of her tongue upon the roof of her mouth… The backs of her teeth… The soaring, dizzying sensation still rioting through her middle, each one enhanced as she brushed by his body, taking care not to drop the nearly frozen feline.
“Hold a moment. Let me get my bearings.” Once through the thickest portion of vegetation, he paused and looked up and out, waited for a low-hanging bank of clouds to drift until a smattering of distant stars revealed themselves, ascertained the moon’s location by the brighter haze edging upward from the horizon, still just a sliver, shifted his direction about fifteen degrees and continued on.
While she waited, a couple of fat flakes drifted down between them, not that she could see them, but she felt them hit her kiss-warmed lips, thought a couple slid against her forehead.
“You, madam, are remarkably self-sufficient.” To her surprisal, his strong fingers gathered her own as he maintained a slightly slower pace. Mayhap, for her sake…? she couldn’t help but wonder. Or for his own?—his limp becoming more pronounced. “Had I not stumbled toward your light, I have no doubt you would have managed.
“As to your earlier question…” His fingers tightened upon hers, and after glancing at the cloud-studded, meagerly starlit sky again, he gave a nod and now walked on more open ground with purpose. “I do believe our destination for tonight is not overly far. Mayhap a quarter mile? Perhaps a bit farther. And look yonder”—he gestured with their joined hands—“the moon is rising. Between that and our own determination, I daresay we shall make decent time. Bear with me, Mary, I shall have you warmed up in a trice.”
She really should correct him on her name.
Nay. ’Tis better this way. Steal your hours in his arms, you lusty harlot. Come morn, Anne needs must return.
Just how he would accomplish that—seeing them both safely warmed up in a trice—Ed could not help but wonder. But it seemed important he reassure her. Reassure himself. Even though niggling worries pelted him as hard as the renewed snowfall…
No servants to haul or heat water.
No fire in the hearth.
No guarantee he was going the correct direction, and had estimated the distance accurately as well.
Just an overwhelming desire to fall into bed and sleep for a week—after swiving her to squealing satisfaction.
Pity he had—for the most part—decided to act the gentleman.
Ed had worried for naught.
His years in the military… His years romping the Redford estate grounds as a boy… His knowledge of the moon’s orbit… Mayhap his need to impress the one at his side… They all stood him in good stead.
For, before exhaustion took its toll and they jointly fell on their frosty faces, Ed delivered them both to the gamekeeper’s cottage.
Frozen feet, frozen feline and hungry lips aside, the next hour passed rather smoothly. Kitty was tucked away on the cold kitchen floor, near the back door where the draft coming in through the bottom would see Grayson’s body remained chilled till morn. Ed quickly and thankfully had the previously prepared fire in the grate on its way to a roaring boil, heat beginning to flame forth between the two lonely souls sharing a snowlit evening and firelit meal.
