Wicked Angel (9 page)

"You are chilled," he remarked suddenly, and shrugged out of his coat, draping it across her shoulders before she could answer. The smell of spicy cologne, so faint as to almost be imagined, wafted across her senses.

"You… you must be wondering…" Lauren stammered as they watched Leonard disappear into the next field.

"Only if Lucy is as hungry as all that," he quipped.

A giggle escaped her. "No doubt she is, but she is forbidden to eat the pumpkins. I have already promised the crop in trade for tallow."

"Pardon?"

Lauren grinned at him. "For candles. I had enough pumpkins to trade for two months worth of tallow, but

as best I can figure, Lucy has left me with enough for one month. And if she eats
that
, I am half-tempted to render her hide in exchange."

Mr. Christian said nothing for a long moment; his gaze slipped to her mouth. Lauren's pulse began to race. "I should be happy to provide you with enough tallow, Miss Hill. You need not trade your pumpkins."

She thought her giggle was absurdly shrill. "Thank you, Mr. Christian, but that is why I grew them in the first place."

"For tallow?" he asked, incredulity evident in his voice.

"For trading. I did not think of tallow at the time, but Mrs. Pennypeck said she could use them in her bakery, and as her husband had more tallow than he needed, it seemed a very good trade. Leonard thought of it."

"So"—he grinned, his gaze dipping to her shirt and trousers—"you trade pumpkins."

"And… and apples and tomatoes when they are in season," she muttered, conscious of a heat creeping up her spine. "And then, of course, if there is extra milk… not that there is any surplus of that, really, but one day we'll fill buckets."

He lifted his eyes and smiled. A perfectly gorgeous smile, full of what seemed hundreds of white teeth.

Her knees were turning to water. Dear God in heaven, she was going to swoon. She took an unconscious step backward. "I… I did not know you lived near here."

"I am temporarily at a hunting lodge."

He
hunted
. Oh, but he
looked
like a hunter, all tall and lean and muscular, and… God, he was looking at her mouth again. "Is he all right, then?" she asked weakly.

Mr. Christian's brows sank in confusion. "Who would 'he' be?"

"Your horse."

He tossed his head back with a shout of laughter. "Yes, Jupiter is quite all right. Seems he was not as lame as he would have had me believe. Would you like to have a look at him?" he asked, and gestured to where Jupiter was tethered.

Yes, she would like to have a look. She would like to look at anything but him, lest she topple onto her rump again. "Very much," she said, smiling.

Jupiter was an enormous black stallion, and had the effect of making Rosewood's two old grays look like fat ponies in comparison. Mr. Christian gave her some carrots from his saddlebag, and Lauren stood on a large stone so she was eye-level with the beast, laughing delightedly as she fed him. She asked him what he hunted, and he talked of stalking a buck that had eluded him for three days running. She gathered from his conversation that he was at the lodge alone, and imagined him sitting at night, quietly reading from a book of poetry. She stroked the stallion's nose, a faint smile on her lips.

"Would you like to ride him?" Mr. Christian asked when the carrots were gone and the horse grew restless.

Lauren blinked. Ride that enormous thing? She had never ridden a horse any more daunting than one of the old grays. "I do not know…" she hedged, staring into one of the horse's big round eyes.

Mr. Christian chuckled. "Allow me to return the favor of your rescue and escort you to Rosewood. The air is decidedly cooler; I shouldn't be surprised if it rains soon." Lauren looked askance at him. He quirked a brow. "Are you afraid?" he asked, his amusement apparent.

Lord,
yes!
Nevertheless, she flashed him a lopsided grin. "Unfortunately, sir, '
I fear dishonor more than
death
.' "

He laughed at the Homeric quip. "Come then," he said, smiling broadly, "I cannot allow you to be dishonored." He stepped aside and bowed gallantly. "Madam, your carriage awaits." Lauren stepped off the stone and walked slowly to the horse's side. "Put your foot in the stirrup," he said from behind her.

She could hardly reach it, but the moment her foot made contact, he caught her by the waist and vaulted her onto Jupiter's back. She landed astride the huge horse and quickly grabbed the pommel to keep from sliding right off the other side. In one fluid movement, he swept up behind her, and reached around her to gather the reins. "Well then, are you on?" He chuckled, his breath fanning her cheek.

She was
on
all right, practically
painted
onto his lap, pressed against his brick wall of a chest. His muscular arms surrounded her. His powerful thighs enveloped her own, and she was struck by how tiny her legs looked next to his. She was having difficulty breathing; her pulse was racing at a clip. "I… I think so," she breathed.

"Do not be afraid," he said gently. "With that death grip you have on the pommel, there is little chance you will fall."

He nudged Jupiter into a trot, and the force of movement propelled her, impossibly, even further into his body. She nervously yanked the musty wool cap from her head when it came into contact with him; he lifted a hand to smooth her curls from his face. She was acutely conscious of every muscle in his body, every movement of his limbs in guiding the horse. His essence seemed to penetrate her, filling her senses, burning her skin everyplace they touched.

She thought she had died and gone to heaven.

When they reached the barn, she asked him to stop, coming up with the lame excuse of needing to check on the calf. Her uncle would strangle her if he saw her riding astride in front of a stranger, in
trousers
, no less! Mr. Christian obliged, alighting with the grace of a bird before reaching up for her. He lifted her effortlessly, allowing her body to brush the full length of his until her feet touched the ground. Her legs would not hold her; she stumbled to one side before righting herself. He flashed a lopsided, lazy grin that suggested he knew what she was feeling.

It embarrassed her to no end to be so terribly transparent, and she nervously swung his coat from her shoulders and thrust it toward him. "Thank you, Mr. Christian. That was most kind," she said as confidently as she could.

"It was my pleasure, Miss Hill." He smiled, donning his coat. He shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding her with a faint smile. Lauren stood self-consciously, not knowing what to say or do next.

Nervous, she twisted the wool cap in her hands.

"You seem to grow a lot of vegetables," he said, nodding toward a fence where the vines of a squash plant were fastened.

"We, ah, we seem to have a knack for it," she said softly, entranced by his pale green eyes. "Would you like some?"

The green eyes landed on her again, lingering there. "Remarkable," he murmured.

"Oh!" She blushed. "It's not really so remarkable. We don't grow much wheat anymore…"

Unexpectedly, he lifted his hand to her temple, brushing a single curl from her face. The gentle touch of his fingertips sent a flame racing through her. "The, ah, the taxes, you know, are quite high," she muttered inanely.

"I was referring to you. Truly remarkable," he said quietly, then grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. Oh God, oh
God
, his lips were so
soft!
With a smile, he dropped her hand and stepped away, swinging up onto the back of his horse. "Good afternoon, Miss Hill." He touched the brim of his hat in something of a salute, and sent Jupiter galloping back the way they had come.

Lauren stood rooted to her spot for a long moment, lightly touching her temple where his fingers had been. When he had at last disappeared from sight, she pivoted and flew to the manor house, bursting through the back door with an absurd giddiness. When Paul asked her what had come over her, she laughed and replied enigmatically, "Nothing that a little time alone did not cure." With a beatific grin for her brother, she floated up the stairs to her own room.

It was very odd, Alex thought, that he should be so absorbed in a young woman of such a different class.

But he had to admit that he was enchanted. Lauren Hill was as full of surprises as she was smiles. And she was beautiful. Bloody hell, she was
gorgeous
. Seeing her dressed in boys' trousers had almost been his undoing. She was one feminine curve after another, with a full bosom, a slender waist, and gently rounded hips atop what he imagined were two very shapely legs. After their little ride on Jupiter's back, the torturous feel of her body against his own had lingered for two days.

In Pemberheath yesterday, she had caught him off guard again. He had happened upon her at the dry goods store, dressed in a light blue wool gown, her mass of curls neatly coifed and hidden beneath a bonnet, arguing with the proprietor over the price for milled flour. An angel in blue, he thought, whose blue eyes danced excitedly when she paused in her very elegant dressing down of the proprietor to cheerfully thank him for the tallow he had sent to Rosewood.

It had just begun to snow when he escorted her outside, having sweetly and successfully demanded a fair price for the flour, confusing the poor shopkeeper with more than one obscure quotation befitting the situation. He would never forget her glee when she caught a fat flake on the tip of her tongue. She had laughingly remarked that he seemed to bring a change in weather whenever she saw him, but he thought it nothing compared to the storm brewing inside him.

Alex turned the curricle, a sled trailing behind, onto a road leading to Deadman's Run. He had so dubbed the hill only yesterday, when this maggot of an idea had taken hold. Strangely enough, he had found himself rather frantically thinking of ways to see her again as she had tossed the bag of flour into the wagon and climbed up next to Rupert. He had impetuously blurted an invitation to sled. To
sled?
He had not sledded since he was a boy. And just where in the hell did one get a sled? Fortunately, he discovered that the blacksmith sold them—for a king's ransom. Old sleds apparently belonging to some ancient ancestor. He had worked until the early hours of the morning getting the thing in working order.

As the curricle and horse lumbered through the snow, he absently wondered why he did not tell her who he was. He had thought to, but it just seemed so inappropriate. And it hardly seemed to matter. He would be gone in a few days, likely would never see her again. And besides, there was something very peaceful about being a man without a title.

As promised, Miss Hill was at the top of the hill with the children, looking quite fetching in a red cloak and her chunky boots. The boys were a mass of fidgety arms and legs, absolutely beside themselves with

anticipation. Lydia seemed a little preoccupied, and every time Alex turned around, she gaped at him as if he had three eyes. Little Sally, the darling with a mass of blond curls, still had the tears of disappointment on her chubby cheeks because, she tearfully informed him, Paul had not come.

"Good day, Mr. Christian," Miss Hill greeted him cheerfully, a luscious smile on her lips. She turned that smile to the children. "Mr. Christian has claimed he possesses great skill when it comes to sledding. He practically demanded he be allowed to show you."

He had said no such thing. His eyes narrowed playfully. "And Miss Hill insisted that she could outsled me, and demanded the opportunity to demonstrate."

She shot him a devilish look. "Why, Mr. Christian, that sounded positively like a challenge."

"Indeed it was, Miss Hill." He glanced meaningfully to the top of the hill. "Well, Leonard, shall we show them how it is done?" Theodore and Horace instantly clamored around Leonard, instructing him.

Leonard nodded to all their advice, assured them he knew what he was doing, and taking the sled from Alex, proceeded eagerly up the hill.

As Alex waited for Leonard to position the sled just so, he watched Miss Hill laughing with the orphans, his heart filled with a peculiar admiration. Gathered around her skirts, their upturned faces filled with adoration, he knew how important it must be to receive the gift of her winsome smile. It never occurred to him to so much as look at a child on the rare occasions he was in their company. He would not be doing so now, except that was where he could find her. And oddly enough, these children delighted him.

He swallowed past an uncharacteristic swell of emotion as Leonard dusted the snow from his mittens.

"I think I should ride in front," he whispered loudly, "but I will help you steer. Miss Hill said you might be a bit rusty." Alex arched a brow as Leonard eagerly clambered onto the front of the sled. He got on behind him, feeling very awkward with his long legs bent up as they were. "Miss Hill, if you would turn your attention to the slope," he called. Smiling, she dropped to her knees in the snow, one arm around Sally.

"Don't worry," Leonard said solemnly. Grinning, Alex pushed off. The sled began to careen down the hill; he expertly guided it around a large protruding rock, through two trees that served as an obstacle course, and then onto the flats at the bottom of the hill, where they coasted to a stop. Laughing wildly, Leonard immediately leapt up and raced for the top of the hill.

Theodore and Horace went next, flying fearlessly to the bottom. Lydia was equally fearless, riding with Leonard, and even little Sally took a turn, crying the length of the run with Theodore. Satisfied the children would not kill themselves, Alex walked to where Miss Hill stood. "So," he drawled, "have you determined it safe enough to have a go of it?"

"Lydia has convinced me it is quite breathtaking," she said, smiling coyly. "But I confess, I rather think it is safer to go with Theodore than you, sir."

Alex smiled mischievously and impulsively took her gloved hand in his. "If you are assured that I can at least drive the thing, I should very much like to take you down, Miss Hill."