Chapter 8
The longer they sat there in silence, the more anxious Scarlett became.
What was going through his head? Her husband had entered the sleigh, taken the reins in hand, and then sat there immobile, his gaze off into the distance.
Was he angry with her? Not that he had any reason to be, she told herself.
She was simply allowing him to see the truth.
“It seems you were right,” he said, his voice breaking through the whisper of the slight wind that had begun to brew, his breath casting smoke into the cold air. “I have been a terribly remiss lord.”
He paused for a moment, opening his mouth a couple of times until he finally continued speaking. “If I had asked Thomas how much rent is, he would have realized this as well, and yet I must know before I meet with Stone. How much are their rents?”
When she told him, he whistled. It was more than double what he would have expected. No wonder his tenants were having difficulties.
“How did I let this happen?” he asked, hanging his head somewhat, and Scarlett felt inexplicable sympathy come over her.
Stop it , this is his own doing. And isn’t this what you wanted — for him to see the error of his ways?
He should have paid much more attention.
But the look of remorse covering his face spoke to the fact that he had placed his absolute trust in the wrong person, and she could not keep her heart from going out to him.
“Sometimes the people we think we can rely on the most end up causing us the greatest distress,” she said, and he looked up at her with disappointment etched in his blue-green eyes — disappointment in himself.
“I have become caught up in my work in London,” he said, looking back out into the snow-covered distance. “In doing so, I have forgotten my responsibility here. But it is more than work. My decisions affect every aspect of these people’s lives. No wonder you think so poorly of me.”
She bit her lip. He was right, in a way, but what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t that she disdained of him so.
No, there were aspects about him that she actually admired — his dedication, his ability to keep from becoming so inflexible that he couldn’t see the error in his ways.
He was simply absent-minded about aspects of his life that he needed to pay more attention to.
Perhaps it was a failing, but not one that was born of any necessary evil or ill intention.
No, what kept her from him was the fact that she could see herself becoming too close to him, and that would never do.
For she knew what she spoke of when she told him that people could be a disappointment.
Her own father had been so time and again.
He loved her, she knew, but that hadn’t been enough.
While he provided for her and was there when she asked him for anything, as a true father, he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him, nor there for her mother at any time at all.
As much as she had to protect herself, however, she should be more conscious of not allowing Hunter to feel too poorly for himself.
“This is nothing that you cannot fix,” she said gently, leaning forward so that she could look into his eyes. “You have the power to change this, to make things better here. Besides that,” she couldn’t help the grin from crossing her face. “I was here to make things right.”
He looked at her then, his face but inches from hers, and her heart began to quicken, beating fast enough for her blood to begin to race through her body, warming all which had become so cold in the freezing air.
“Hunter,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Hunter, I?—”
The horse whinnied then, breaking the moment, and she sat back suddenly. “I think we best get a move on,” she said, clearing her throat, “we must see to the other tenants. Do you know what time it is?”
He shook his head, saying nothing as he sent the horses on their way.
“Do you not have a pocket watch?”
“No,” he said shortly, surprising her.
“You don’t have a pocket watch?” she looked at him, perplexed. “Every man has a pocket watch.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“No one ever gave me one.”
“Could you not have bought your own?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could have. But … it simply didn’t seem right.”
Sensing his reluctance to speak on the topic, she frowned in consternation but didn’t question him any further.
She had nearly kissed him. Twice now, he had been close to taking her lips with his, and twice she had pulled away.
What kind of man was he, that he couldn’t even convince his own wife to kiss him?
Not only that, he had nearly broken down, had nearly told her of his own disappointment.
He had asked his father for a pocket watch just like his, but his father always told him to earn enough money to buy his own.
Well, Hunter thought, he would have to forget that for the moment, for he had a role to play — the role of the focused landlord.
They visited one house after another, bearing baskets and a promise of lower rents in the new year.
Hunter was overcome with the joy on the faces of his tenants.
What truly took him aback, however, was their reaction to Scarlett.
They all loved his wife, welcoming her into their homes as though she were an old friend instead of the new wife of their lord.
How often had she visited? He had never seen anything like it in all his years.
He finally asked her about it as he turned the sleigh back toward Wintervale.
“Why am I so friendly with them?” she asked, fixing her gaze upon him.
“Because they are people, Hunter. People who I enjoy speaking with. For the past three months, I have been alone with them — and the servants of course, and then there is Lavinia, but she is not always around — and I enjoy their company. Besides, it is important to ensure they are happy. It is better for you at the end of the day.”
He nodded, wondering as he did if she was happy alone here on his estate. As though she heard his thoughts, however, she continued.
“I love it out here,” she said wistfully. “It is so open, so free, and you have a beautiful home, Hunter, truly you do. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in London for months on end, as you are. I actually feel sorry for you, that you must be.”
He certainly didn’t feel sorry for himself. He loved his work there — though he understood what she said regarding the freedom of the country and he wished once more he spent more time here.
“Oh, look!” she said, pointing to a path just visible through the evergreens. “This is where I wanted to stop.”
“Stop for what?” he asked.
“Boughs for the house! You are apparently not the only one who dislikes Christmas, Hunter, for there is not a decoration to be found within all of Wintervale. We looked everywhere, though Abbot and Mrs. Shepherd, as well as Lavinia, assured me I would come up empty. It seems Christmas is not a family tradition. Which is sad, really, as that is what Christmas is all about. I ordered some things, but others we must collect ourselves. Here, stop now.”
He slowed the horses, though he wanted nothing more than to continue on toward home. He really did have to be going if he wanted to make it to London. As he thought of it, a snowflake dropped onto the tip of his nose, and he looked around to see a multitude of them falling around them.
“It’s snowing again!” she said, a look of glee coming over her face, and he couldn’t help but stop now, wanting to see more of this woman who had revealed herself to him today in the homes of his tenants.
If Christmas was going to bring some happiness to her, well, he supposed for an hour he could stop and allow her to enjoy it.
And then, when they returned to the house, he really had to be on his way, or he would never make it to London in time.
“All right, then,” he said, sharing her smile. “What do you need me to do?”
“Come!” she exclaimed with the same enthusiasm Bobby had held earlier. “You can carry for me.”
“Carry?”
His question was soon answered, however, as she piled bough after bough in his arms or the bag which had previously held the baskets for the tenants.
She picked up all of the pieces of evergreens that had fallen to the ground, before carefully selecting other types of greenery.
It all looked the same to Hunter, but she seemed to know exactly what each type of shrub or tree was, adding all to her collection.
He dragged the filled bag back to the sleigh, before returning to hold the rest himself.
He was relieved when she finally seemed satisfied, for he didn’t think he could carry anything else without it all falling to the ground.
“I think that should do, for now at least,” she said, bounding back toward the sleigh, while he followed much more slowly, trying to balance everything. “Oh, Wintervale will look so lovely once all of this is strewn about.”
“Where do you even plan on putting this?” he asked, his voice muffled as his face was entirely covered by branches.
“Everywhere!” she exclaimed. “There is nothing like the feeling of Christmas, Hunter. It enters your very soul, filling you with a warmth unlike anything else. Have you truly never felt it?”
He finally relieved himself of his burden, dropping it into the sleigh, before turning back toward her.
He seemed to forget how to breathe entirely, however, when he looked at her face.
Those eyes which had regarded him with so much chagrin were now glistening with exhilaration, her cheeks were rosy as could be from the cold air, and her lips red and inviting.
Finally, her walls had come down, and he was not going to let this moment pass.
“I suppose,” he said slowly and carefully, drawing closer to her. “I am beginning to feel it now.”
He leaned down then, determined that this time, she would not escape.
He saw a tiny bit of panic flare in her eyes as his face neared hers, but she didn’t back away.
He brought his hand to the back of her head, and before she could have another moment to think about what was happening between them, he brought his lips to hers.
It had taken months, but he finally tasted his wife.
And now that he had sampled, he wanted more.
He didn’t want to scare her away, but it was difficult to keep himself from taking more than this sweet, chaste kiss.
He could sense her hesitancy, however, so he held himself to what she offered, her lips soft and warm under his.
So as not to scare her, he began to slowly move them over hers, tempting, slightly teasing, and he knew the moment she allowed her resistance to begin to ebb away.
For her body, so tense and tight, began to sink into him seemingly of its own will, the ice beginning to melt as her soft form came flush against his.
He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, and she opened to him, allowing him in, and he felt the exhilaration down to his very soul.
For he knew this was more than simply sharing a kiss with her husband. This was opening up to him in more than just the physical sense.
She tasted like the spice of the pastry she had been offered at their last stop, and, like the temptation of sugar, he wanted more of her — more than was appropriate to ask here, in the middle of these evergreens, the snow beginning to swirl around them.
In fact, when he finally broke away, he was shocked to find the snow was now coming down in droves. When had that happened?
He looked down to find her staring up at him in amazement, and he was filled with a sense of satisfaction that it took a moment for her to come back to her senses.
“I — Hunter, I?—”
He shook his head, smiling at her. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, stroking her red cheek with his gloved thumb. “But we should get back.”
She looked around her, taking in the sudden snowfall with as much surprise as he had.
“Goodness, but it’s coming down!” she exclaimed. “We should go.”
This time, when they took a seat in the sleigh, he lifted the blanket over both of them, feeling her leg pressed against his. When she didn’t move away, he smiled. Perhaps there was something to the Christmas spirit after all.