Cinders and Ashes (8 page)

“
Thank you,” she murmured eventually, with a yawn. She wanted
to be angry with him, she really did. Not only had he embarrassed
her with his blatant nakedness, but he had practically forced her
to sleep with him.

Her conscience pricked her for being so harsh.
He hadn’t actually forced her per se, as she
wasn’t physically sleeping with him as in, well
-. She quickly closed that thought off. All he had done was
improve her comfort and warmth. He had done nothing more than she
had been doing for him over the past few days. Should she really be
angry at him for that?

“
You’re welcome,” Sebastian replied, from somewhere behind
her.

Within
moments, she was fast asleep.

In the
silence of the early dawn, Sebastian contemplated her current
situation. Her hand lay limply upon the coarse blankets. It wasn’t
the hand of a pampered lady. It was the work-roughened hand of a
servant. He didn’t need to feel it to know it was liberally
sprinkled with a myriad of calluses.

He
glanced around the tiny space she called home with something akin
to disdain. Given the sparse surroundings she called home, she was
an impoverished servant. Sebastian wondered who the hell this Sir
Hubert was, to feel he could justify paying her so little in wages
that she could barely feed herself.

The tiny
cottage she called home was barely habitable. It was no more than
five or six paces across and barely had room for the table before
the hearth, let alone the bed and rickety dresser on the opposite
side of the small abode. The stone floor was rough and uneven.
Unless he was much mistaken, the randomly placed pots on the floor
captured the rain that made its way through the leaking
roof.

As he
lay contemplating the intriguing bundle of femininity in his arms,
he suddenly realised that he could only see one bowl and spoon
sitting on the table. The rickety old dresser leaning against the
wall beside the hearth held very little other than a potato, one
carrot, a chunk of stale bread and a small piece of cheese. Meagre
repast, even for someone of Amelia’s size. How had she fed both of
them with so little food?

Frowning, he studied the clearly visible veins and bones on
the back of her bony hand, and slowly traced them with his finger.
With money being so sparse, he had little doubt she was going
without in order to feed him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her
eat.

His
heart twisted with bittersweet regret and growing guilt. His only
redemption was the knowledge that he at least had the power to put
matters right. His heart ached for her dire predicament, as he
considered the abundance of food regularly put on the table at
Tingdale House, his own home. Luxuries he had never considered
important.

Copious
amounts of meat, vegetables, cheese and bread just appeared when he
commanded, how he commanded and were abruptly taken away again when
he was finished. His mouth began to water with the memory of Cook’s
famous apple pie, and his stomach rumbled in hungry protest at
being deprived.

As sleep
began to claim him, he considered the various goodies he would
tempt Amelia with once she was safely ensconced at Tingdale.
Without thought, his arm slid around her narrow waist, protectively
snuggling her limp body back against his chest.

With a
deep sigh of contentment, he spooned around her, groaning low in
his throat when she wriggled back against his groin. He took a
moment to tenderly place a lingering kiss on her temple before
relaxing into sleep, content with the knowledge that she was, for
now at least, somewhere warm and safe.

Amelia
awoke some considerable time later, reluctant to break the
contentment that suffused her. Blinking sleepily, she yawned widely
and frowned when her eyes landed on the cold fireplace. By rights
she should be getting up, lighting the fire and heading out to her
day’s work at Sir Hubert’s. It felt decidedly decadent to lie there
and do nothing, safely ensconced in Sebastian’s strong
arms.

Until he
arrived in her life, appearing out of nowhere like a gift from the
gods, she had never realized just how lonely and dissatisfied she
had become with her life, and how much she was missing out
on.

She had
been incredibly lucky to have met Sir Hubert and was extremely
grateful to have been given the position as housekeeper, but she
missed the companionship of someone to share her day
with.

It
suited her to be living well away from society, but if she was
completely honest she wanted someone at home to talk to. When
things were rough; or when she was feeling tired, it would be sheer
heaven to be able to sit in front of the fireplace with someone,
and share her day.

Sebastian was recovering steadily. It wouldn’t be too many
more days before he was chafing to return home and bring his
attackers to justice. A pang of loneliness stole through her at the
thought.

With a
shiver of dread, Amelia slowly eased out of the bed, careful not to
wake him. Quietly she lit the fire and turned toward the dresser.
With having Sebastian to feed, there was now barely enough to
provide a meal. Not only did she have to go the village and
purchase some food to get them through the next few days, she would
have to throw herself on the mercy of Sir Hubert and apologise for
her absence over the last few days, without revealing Sebastian’s
presence in her cottage.

Eschewing breakfast, Amelia carefully laid out the last of
the bread and cheese on her plate, wishing she had some ham or pie
to add to the meagre repast. Reluctantly she added the two
remaining apples with a sigh, hoping he would eat
slowly.

Carefully tugging on her cloak and boots, she collected her
small pouch of coins from under the bed and quietly left the
cottage.

Until
now he hadn’t contemplated just how much solitude Amelia actually
lived in, and wondered how she bore it! He was going quietly
mad.

Having
woken several hours earlier, it soon became apparent that she would
not be returning any time soon. She had selflessly left him the
remaining food should he get hungry, but it had tasted like ashes
in his mouth. The knowledge that Amelia needed it, but had starved
herself to feed him, stripped him of his appetite.

Briefly
he considered pulling his boots on and finding this Sir Hubert
himself, to castigate the man on his poor treatment of his loyal
housekeeper. Eyeing his boots, he reluctantly accepted the fact
that, even if he did have the strength to wrestle them on, he
wouldn’t be able to bend down enough to tug them up without causing
his ribs more injury. He couldn’t afford any setback. Not now, when
he was so close to recovering enough to make the arduous journey
home. The quicker he got Amelia out of this hovel, and into the
warmth and luxury of Tingdale House, the better.

Instead,
he paced and fumed while waiting helplessly for Amelia to
return.

By the
time dusk had surrendered to the onslaught of nightfall, Sebastian
was tearing his hair out. He was so angry with her, he could throw
something.

Where
the hell was she? Was she alright? Had Ballantyne gotten her? Had
she fallen ill? Been robbed?

He tried
to calm his frayed nerves, but as time passed he became
increasingly frantic. He tried to reason out various scenarios to
explain why she was so late. She was after all, a servant. If she
had gone to Sir Hubert, she would be working late into the evening.
She may not be back until midnight. The thought made him scowl
fiercely.

He was,
by nature, a man of action. Unlike most members of the aristocracy,
he didn’t leave the running of his estates to his man of business.
Through his hands-on approach, and sound judgement, all of his
estates were prospering and, over the course of time, had made him
a considerably wealthy man. He grimaced ruefully at that
thought.

Despite
all of his wealth, he was now living in abject poverty, eating
apples, stale bread and cheese, while the woman who had saved his
life toiled from dawn to dusk to make enough pennies to
survive.

Life could truly be harsh to those not as lucky as he,
Sebastian mused, his thoughts turning to Amelia
once again.

He was
still stewing over his own helplessness, and the unfairness of the
circumstances in which Amelia lived, when the latch on the door
finally rattled and Amelia entered.

A muscle
ticked in his firm jaw as he watched her stagger through the door
carrying two fully laden baskets.

His
anger was briefly set aside while he quickly jumped up from the
chair and relieved her of her burden. He didn’t know whether to
rant at her for not waking him before she left, or fall to his
knees and thank God that she was, at last, back safe and
sound.

Carefully placing the heavy baskets on the worn table, he
took a few moments to gather his wayward emotions.

Why had
she gotten such a hold on his affection so quickly? He knew it
wasn’t just gratitude for her sacrifices, and saving his life, that
was the attraction. He watched as she disappeared back outside and
returned moments later with another basket and a further parcel,
before kicking the door closed with a thud.

“
Where the hell have you been?” He tried not to shout, he
really did. He almost succeeded. Almost. He wished he had kept the
words back when he took a careful look at her
appearance.

Despite
being outside in the ferocious winds, her cheeks were still pale
and untouched by the buffeting of the cold air. There were dark
smudges beneath her eyes and a droop to her shoulders that hadn’t
been there before. Clearly she was exhausted, and hadn’t slept as
well in the bed as he’d hoped.

All of
his anger, fear and concern evaporated in an instant and he dragged
her unresisting form tight against his chest. Laying his head
against the top of hers, he closed his eyes in relief, and savoured
the reassuring feel of her delicate body in his arms as she relaxed
against him.

Amelia
found herself standing just inside the doorway, a basket in one
hand and a parcel in the other, wrapped securely in Sebastian’s
warm embrace. She couldn’t have moved if her life had depended upon
it. Leaning wearily against him for several moments, she savoured
the wonderful feeling of being cared for.

After
several moments, Sebastian eased away from her and relieved her of
her burden, before drawing her over to the fireplace and seating
her as though she were a lady about to dine in
splendour.

“
I need to empty the baskets,” Amelia murmured, making no
attempt to move. Her feet ached; her hands ached; and she had a
raging headache, but wouldn’t have changed the welcome she had just
received for all of the two pennies left in her pouch.

“
You rest, I’ll do it,” Sebastian ordered softly, and began to
unpack.

Under
Amelia’s direction he carefully placed their mound of provisions in
their rightful places, and put the wrapped bundle of clothing in
her mending basket.

“
So, today you have been from here to the village to purchase
provisions, then on to Sir Hubert’s to work, before collecting more
mending and finally returning home.” He didn’t need her
acknowledgement, and wasn’t surprised when she didn’t correct his
assumption.

Sebastian felt his temper rise again, but given how tired she
looked couldn’t chastise her. She was only doing what she had to.
He wisely remained quiet, and instead set about preparing her a
plate of food. He was wealthy enough to ensure she would never have
to spend her days trudging around the countryside, or working from
dawn to dusk, ever again.

He eyed
the small mound of food, and carefully assessed the number of days
it would last. With any luck they would just have enough before
they left for home.

Amelia
didn’t bother nodding, and watched as he placed the now empty
baskets by the door. Although he didn’t say anything else, she
could tell from the rigid set of his shoulders and the dark scowl
on his face that something had angered him considerably. A quick
glance around the cottage showed nothing untoward, so what could
possibly have happened?

“
Has anyone been by today?” Amelia murmured, eying the pie and
cheese Sebastian placed before her. She had briefly had time for
some broth in Sir Hubert’s kitchens, but that had been hours ago.
She hadn’t realised just how hungry she was until her nose was
assailed with the delicious smell of the pie. Without hesitation,
she began to eat.

“
I haven’t seen or heard anyone all day. It has been as quiet
as a graveyard. I don’t know how you bear it.”

Amelia
smiled sympathetically. “I don’t really spend any time here during
the daytime. I am at Sir Hubert’s all day.”

“
Do you work from dawn to dusk every day?” Sebastian wondered
why she didn’t get at least an afternoon off, but wasn’t surprised
when she slowly shook her head.

“
Sir Hubert is frail, and cannot fend for himself for too
long. I don’t mind really. As you quite rightly point out, it is as
quiet as the grave here - almost too quiet at times.”