Chapter Three
He couldn’t gallop to where she stood, much as he wanted to. It was too risky, and the mare didn’t deserve a stumble or an injury just because he wanted to find out about a woman.
So he took his time, letting Whiskey find her way where he directed her, and keeping his eyes on the woman as he neared her.
It was indeed his rescuer. She was smiling slightly at his approach, not moving or doing anything but stand and watch him as her hair stirred slightly in the cold breeze. She wore a thick dark green cloak wrapped around her and a muff of some fur that almost matched her hair.
There was the same sort of fur trimming the hood, but she had let that slip to her shoulders.
Where had she come from?
He glanced around and this time saw her footprints, coming from a break in the hedge not far behind her.
He smiled too. Now he knew her hiding place. It was the same one he’d played in so many years ago.
“Hullo.” She spoke, a gentle greeting that travelled over the snow to him without effort.
“Hullo,” he answered. “I’d hoped to find you again.”
“You did?”
He finally reached her and dismounted, throwing the reins over Whiskey’s head and then collecting them in one hand. “Yes.” His gazed roamed over her, returning to her face. “I wanted to thank you.”
“No need.”
“And I wanted to see if you were real.”
She laughed at that, a merry sound that made him smile as well.
“Oh I’m real enough, Mr. Chillendale.”
He nodded. “You have the advantage of me, Miss…?”
She turned. “My name is Eldridge. And if you’d care to follow me, I believe I can offer you tea…”
The glance she flashed him over her shoulder, her face shining behind the rich fur…well it lit a fire in his loins that caught Reid by surprise. He almost stumbled, but Whiskey held steady and his grip on her reins kept him upright.
“Do watch your step. And perhaps secure your mount here? I doubt she’ll pass through the hedge too comfortably.”
He couldn’t argue with that, remembering all too well the scratches he and Brent had gathered during their days at their “club”.
Making sure Whiskey was secured yet had enough freedom to forage in the snow for grass, he followed Miss Eldridge through the gap, noting the bare ground where she’d trodden earlier.
“How did you manage to leave me without a trace?”
She walked on toward the face of the cliff that rose at the end of the hedge. “I backtracked, walking in your steps until I could hide my own. ‘Twas quite simple. But it amused me.”
“It drove me quite mad trying to work out how you had simply vanished.”
“Good.”
He heard the laughter in her voice. “Well I’m glad I made you happy. Small thanks for rescuing me, but there it is.”
She reached the door and paused. “Are you angry? If so, you may leave. You’ve met me and learned my name. That should suffice.”
Oh no, she wasn’t getting rid of him that easily. “I’m not angry. I’m intrigued.” He looked around him. “And you should be nicer to me, since I built this shelter many years ago.”
“Really?” She walked inside. “I wish you’d added running water.”
Reid rolled his eyes and followed her inside. “Some people are never pleased. Are you not grateful for a dry shelter and – even if I say so myself – an amazingly clever fireplace?”
He walked to the hollowed-out shelf in the rock at the back of the cave, noting the simmering logs that filled the space with welcome warmth. The smoke dissipated through several small holes that wandered away from the fire and eventually appeared some way away from their present location.
“Neither Brent nor I ever found out what caused these channels, but they still work well, I see.”
She shed her cloak, putting it on the old chest that still took up most of one corner. “They do indeed. May I offer you tea?” She took a kettle full of snow from just inside the door and put it on the rocks that ringed the fire. “It will take a little while to boil.”
He took off his outerwear, putting them next to her cloak. “I remember this chest. My friend Brent worked very hard to repair that corner inside. He did it, too. It was mouse-free when we finished.”
She was watching him, smiling at his reminiscences. “You must have loved it here.”
“We did.” He turned to her. “It was private. Unique. A special place where we could play and read and nap if we wished.” His eyes drifted to the ledge at the very back of the cave. It was high, but wide and warmer than the rest of the area. “I slept well there.”
“As have I. It is still comfortable. With a few extra blankets, of course.”
There were blankets folded next to a large plaid cushion, and all were on top of a massive fur spread.
“I see you are well provisioned.” His eyes sought her face.
“For a few days, yes. It’s quite fun being here.”
“And you’re not afraid to be here alone?”
Her eyes widened. “Should I be? Nobody is aware of my presence. I need only one candle at night, and wake at dawn, so there’s scarcely a light to attract the attention of anyone who might, on some remote chance, be in the area.”
“You’re not planning on staying long, I hope?”
“You wish me gone?” She turned away and busied herself with two metal mugs and an old battered teapot.
“That’s not what I meant.” He cursed himself for his poor choice of words. “I was more concerned for your comfort. This is fun, yes. I agree with that wholeheartedly. But after a little while, I should think even this peaceful place could become…lonely.”
She remained silent as she spooned tea from a tin into the pot. The tin went back into a large bag she had stored to one side of the fire. Her other victuals, he assumed.
“Excuse me.” She swept past to the door, opened it, and retrieved a jug from outside. “Milk,” she said. “An obliging cow wanders by now and again.”
“Convenient.”
He felt in the way, but the lack of a chair was annoying. For want of anything better, he walked over to the bed and boosted himself up, sitting on the edge and watching her as she made tea.
She could have been any London hostess entertaining a guest. Her movements were graceful and steady, her fingers long, her hands elegant, her wrists delicate.
And yet he would never think her weak. She had a strength that showed in the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulders.
She had stayed here, a tiny shelter in a deserted bit of the countryside, and in the middle of a winter storm, no less.
She approached with a mug in each hand and passed one to him.
“Give me both,” he ordered. “Then you may sit here as well.”
“All right.” She did as he suggested, then nimbly hoisted herself up onto the fur next to him.
He passed her tea. “There. Not quite the drawing room but close.”
“I was never much enchanted with drawing rooms.” She turned her mouth down at the corners. “Too restricting by half.”
He sipped his tea, carefully, since it was hot. “You sound as if you dislike formalities. Restrictions…?”
She nursed her mug, waiting for the liquid to cool. “I’ve never cared to be molded into someone else’s idea of what I should be. A fate, I might add, that awaits most women today.”
“Is that why you’re here? Did you perhaps run away from something? Someone who tried to mold you?”
She shook her head. “I would not bore you with my history, Mr. Chillendale.”
“I doubt I would be bored, Miss Eldridge.”
That mobile eyebrow rose. “Very well. The barest bones only, though.”
“I’ll settle for that.” For now.
He couldn’t look away from her. The skin of fine porcelain, the eyes that were green and yet flecked with gold that glistened in the firelight. And that hair. Tumbled strands of chestnut, richer than any fur, shining as if lit from within.
She sipped her tea, then licked her lips.
Reid felt a bolt of lust pierce through his body with almost violent force. It was as if someone had lit one of Whinyates’ rockets and sat him on top of the damn thing. He resisted the urge to see if the top of his head was still in the right place, but it was a challenge not to reach up and check.
“So.” He cleared his throat of some obstruction that made it rough and low. “The barest bones, Miss Eldridge. I await the tale with eagerness.”
And I shall have you naked beneath me, writhing with desire, very very soon.
He really is quite extraordinary, she thought.
He was sitting next to her, smelling faintly of hops and barley, with eyes that had darkened as his arousal increased. She wondered if he knew that. Perhaps someday she’d tell him. But she’d promised him the bare bones of her life. That was exactly what he would be given.
“I never knew my mother. She gave me life and in doing so, lost her own.”
“How sad.”
“I’m sure it was, but I was too young to understand.
” She paused. “It affected my father, of course. The loss must have been terribly painful. I suppose I was a constant reminder of that pain, or he couldn’t deal with a babe in the house…
I don’t know. Whatever his reason, before I was a year old, he sent me to live with my aunt.
She was actually a distant relation, I think, and had no husband or children of her own.
She became my family and loved me well. I can remember no other. ”
There, that would do. Much of it was the truth, anyway.
“You were happy?” He watched her.
“Yes. Growing up, Aunt Dorothea made sure I had friends, and there were cousins who would visit. It was fun.” She gave nothing away. “Time passed, and when I reached the appropriate age, my aunt arranged for my marriage.”
“You are wed?” One eyebrow rose at that news.
“Widowed. The gentleman selected was quite a bit older than myself.” She hid her eyes for a moment, sipping her tea as a distraction. “I believe his goal was to produce an heir. Sadly, he passed away before such a happy event could take place.”
“I see. Most unfortunate.”
“Indeed.” She put the mug down. “However, life continues, as it must. I was able to establish a small household and often entertain friends. I do not lack for anything, so I must count myself fortunate.”