The fire had indeed gone out; however there were enough coals to get it going again. As the duke tended the fire, Felicity shifted from foot to foot. The uncomfortable pressure in her bladder grew until she was forced to cross her legs. “Oh.” She bit her lip to smother her moan of discomfort.
The duke looked over his shoulder as he added some smaller sticks to the baby flames. “Is something the matter?”
She shook her head, afraid if she spoke she would betray her urgency. She couldn’t very well tell him she had to relieve herself. On the other hand if she didn’t soon, she would burst and leave a puddle on the floor. What was she to do? She couldn’t very well just use the chamber pot with him standing there watching…. “Oooh, come quick!” Dismayed, but desperate, she bolted for the bedchamber, snatching up the chamber pot on her way and towing him along in her wake. Once she cleared the door she shut it in his face, pinning the chain between it and the door jam. Back to the door she set down the pot, hiked up her skirts and relieved her screaming bladder. “Oh.”
A chuckle reverberated through the door. “Why did you not tell me you had to go?”
“Oh, do stubble it,” she groused. “’Tis embarrassing enough.”
When she was finished she exited the bedchamber and took pains to avoid looking at the duke. Face flushed, she headed for the back door. “I suppose we need to bring in more wood?”
“I shall do it. It will give me a chance to take care of my own morning needs.”
If there was a way she could crawl under the floor boards and die at this point she would have gladly taken it. “I do not want to witness…uh…that.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just stand at the door.” Without bothering to put on his coat he opened the door, stepped out into the snow and pulled it shut as far as it would go with the chain between.
Mortified she leaned against the door and plugged her ears. Could things get any worse? At the thump on the door she stepped back and the duke entered with an armload of wood. She almost forgot to follow him until the chain tugged at her ankle. In haste she shut the door and stumbled after him.
She settled into a chair by the fire. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she made a pathetic attempt to comb her disheveled hair with her fingers while he stoked the fire. Without warning he stood and headed for the kitchen. Lurching to her feet, she stumbled after him. “What are you doing?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I am making tea and breaking fast.”
Annoyed she shot him a black look. “From now on I suggest we decide together what we are doing and when. After all, we are chained together.”
“All right, we are making tea and breaking fast.” He set to work in the kitchen.
“This is not a dictatorship, you know.”
He snickered. “Is it not? You could have fooled me.” He set a loaf of bread and a knife before her. “Here, slice the bread while I prepare the tea.” When she reached for the knife, he snatched it away. “On second thought, you make the tea and I shall slice the bread. You cannot afford to lose any fingers.”
She crossed her arms. “How about you just prepare it all?”
“That is a better idea, for sure. See? We work well together.” He winked and then set to work fixing their morning meal.
Pulling up a stool she sat resting her arms on the counter and, for lack of anything better to do, took note of his progress.
Having cracked four eggs into a bowl, he diced up the last of the ham, some pungent green onions, a handful of dried mushrooms, a stalk of kale, and then tossed it into the egg mix. To that he added a pinch of salt, a dash of a red spice and stirred it together. He took down a skillet from the hook above, rubbed the inside with a piece of bacon fat, and then sliced the bread. “Here, take the skillet and the butter and I will carry the rest to the fire.”
She slid off the stool. “Are you sure you trust me with the skillet?”
He frowned. “Not really, but I trust you less not to spill the eggs.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
Without comment, he led the way to the hearth. Once the bacon fat sizzled in the pan he poured in the egg mixture and set the bread to toast.
Since there was nothing for her to do, she sat in the chair by the fire. “How is Joe?”
“He is fine. You are lucky you chose him for an escape attempt. Spartan would have bucked you off at the barn door.” He lifted the edge of the congealing egg mix.
“Well, if it is any consolation, the ride on Joe ended in pretty much the same manner.”
“I suppose it did, though good old Joe was not trying to hurt you, he was simply trying to free himself from the snow drift.”
Felicity shrugged. “I might have been able to hang on if I had not been so weak.”
After shaking the pan to loosen the contents he gave it a flick and flipped the egg mixture over, exposing a neat golden brown underside. “Three days of fever with only small bits of tea in your stomach will do that to a person.”
Guilt pricked on conscience. “Thank you…for taking care of me, I mean.”
He brushed off her grudging gratitude. “There was not much else to do trapped in a lodge in the midst of a snow storm, I am afraid.”
The orange cat trotted down the stairs from the loft with a meow and jumped into her lap. She stroked her soft fur until the toasted bread was buttered and the egg cake was finished. The duke dished up the meal and handed her a plate. The first bite of the egg was like nothing she had ever tasted before. “This is wonderful, William, truly the best eggs I have ever eaten.”
Both his brows rose.
She frowned, wondering why her compliment surprised him. “What?”
“You called me William.”
“Oh.”
He smiled. “I like it, Felicity.”
Uncomfortable, she turned her attention back to her plate. It seemed natural to be on a first name basis; after all they spent a week together now and witnessed many a private moment. For the first time, the implications of their predicament hit her. All her training at the finishing school had been for naught. Even if she salvaged a dowry out of the duke, she would never buy herself a husband after spending a week unchaperoned in his company. The best she could hope for now was enough money to buy a small shop, or farm to earn a living. Once again she had muddled everything. There was naught she could do about it now; besides if she couldn’t sway the duke into not pressing charges, she would most likely spend the rest of her life in Newgate Prison.
When they finished the meal, they worked together do the dishes, he washing and she drying them. Felicity was putting away the last dish when the cat began to yowl from the bedchamber. Alarmed, she placed the dish in the curtained cupboard. “What is wrong with Pumpkin? Why is she making such a horrid noise?”
“Maybe she is having her kittens. Come on, we had better go see.”
When they entered the bedchamber they found the cat curled up on the bed. Her stomach bulged and moved proving the life within.
Concern filled Felicity at the sight of the poor animal’s distress. “What do we do?”
William took one of Felicity’s discarded petticoats and laid it in the bottom drawer of the clothes chest. “We will make her a nest box here.”
Felicity picked up Pumpkin with the greatest care, carried her over to the clothes chest, and set her gently in the padded drawer. “Now what?”
“Now we leave her be and wait.”
“Oh no, I cannot leave her when she is in such pain.” Felicity stroked the panting cat’s head.
William patted her hand. “She will be all right, Felicity. Mother Nature will take care of it. It might not hurt to watch though, that is, if you are not squeamish in nature.”
Together they perched on the side of the bed and watched the cat. At first it didn’t seem as if anything was happening, then a small grey bubble appeared under the feline’s tail.
Alarm filled Felicity and she clutched William’s arm in dread. “What is that? Is
something wrong?”
Again he patted her hand. “’Tis normal. That is only the birth sack.”
“How do you know?” she persisted, worried for her pet.
“I have seen many a foal born. Trust me, all is well.”
The calmness of his tone eased her fears somewhat. Little by little the grey bubble emerged, changing to an orange and white blob. The cat sat up and began to chew at the bundle. “She’s eating it.”
William chuckled. “No, she is merely removing the birth sack so the kit can breathe.”
“Oh.” She stared in wonder at the scene before her. The sack came away and a soggy wet squirming kitten emerged. The mother licked it all over purring and nuzzling the wobbly babe. A few moments later she lay flat again and another grey bubble emerged. This time, when the cat removed the birth sack, the bundle of wet fur inside was still. “What is the matter? It is not moving William.”
William took the kitten from the mother and massaged it but it stayed still. “This one did not make it, I am afraid.”
“Oh no.” A tear trickled down Felicity’s cheek. Sniffling, she brushed it away. “The poor thing. Is there naught we can do for it?”
“That is the way of life, Felicity.”
Her sorrow was compounded when the cat lay back and delivered a second lifeless babe.
William removed the second dead one, massaged it in an attempt to stimulate it, and then wrapped the two dead kits in his handkerchief. Once Pumpkin lay content to lick the remaining live kitten he stood. “It looks like she will only have the one to nurse. Let us leave her be now and dispose of the dead ones.”
Together they placed the two dead kittens under the woodpile, since the ground was too frozen to dig a proper hole.
Chapter Thirteen
Felicity checked the mother and remaining kitten before bed that night. The warm bundle of orange and white fluff was tucked securely up against Pumpkin’s belly under her leg. “What a pretty baby you have,” she crooned, stroking the mother cat’s head. Pumpkin purred and rubbed against her hand.
“She is a good mother,” William remarked stripping off his shirt.
She flipped back the covers and climbed in bed making a conscience effort not to notice the duke’s well-muscled chest. “You had better stay on your side of the bed this night.”
“I believe your derriere was on my side this morn, Felicity.”
Letting his comment slide, she wrapped the blanket tight around her and squirmed to the edge of the bed. She yawned, sleepy-eyed and tired from lack of a good night’s sleep the night before. The duke extinguished the candle and she closed her eyes. The bed dipped and then he tugged at the covers until comfortable. It was strange to lie next to a man and hear his breathing mingling with her own. If truth be told, she had enjoyed his warmth pressed against her that morning. It was somehow both uncomfortable and comforting to be held in his arms. She wondered idly what it would be like to do more than sleep in the same bed. There was no denying his bronzed chest made her blood run quick. Even the touch of his strong hands as he cared for her burn made her heart beat faster. Did every woman feel that way when a man touched her? Or was it only this man who stirred in her feelings of need?
“William?”
“Yes?”
Gathering her courage she ventured, “Have you…well, slept with a woman before? I mean, I suppose you have, for men are rakes after all….”
The bedding shifted. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged and the blanket slipped down to her elbow. “I…never mind, it is wrong of me to ask.”
He was silent for a moment, only his soft breathing mingling with hers and the cat’s purring.
“Yes, I have made love to a woman a time or two.”
She grimaced at the amusement in his tone. “Oh.” Turning her head, she tried to discern his expression in the dim, but only the rough outline of his features were visible.
“Is there something on your mind?”
With a sigh, she settled back against her pillow. “No.”
The bed dipped again and the tension left the blanket as if he rolled in her direction. “Are you wondering what it would be like to be made love to, Felicity?”
Gasping, she jerked the covers up around her neck. How dare he suggest such a thing…even though it was exactly what she had been thinking. How did he know? Had he read her mind?
“There is no shame in being curious about what goes on between and man and a woman in the marriage bed.”
“As if I would even entertain such a notion as wanting to know what goes on,” she grumbled, trying to hide the truth. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo beneath her breast and her fingers curled on the edge of the blanket. She mustn’t let him know how close to the truth his deductions were. It was sinful for her to even think such things, let alone actually voice them.
“Would you like me to kiss you?”
Startled she sat up. “No!”
“Are you sure?”
Of course she was sure…wasn’t she? Undecided, she sat there. What harm would there be in one kiss? All the girls at the finishing school had been kissed before, except her. There was nothing wrong with a suitor favoring a woman with a chaste kiss; it was done all the time. Though technically William was not her suitor.
“Felicity?”
“I—yes,” she breathed, trembling to her very core at the thought.
The bed shifted and his face appeared inches from her own. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
His lips descended on hers and she closed her eyes. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. His lips were soft and gentle as they caressed hers. She leaned into him as his hand came up to cradle her jaw and steady her. When his lips parted and his tongue slipped out to stroke along her bottom lip, the sensation made her gasp. Never had she been touched so intimately, so sensually. Then his probing tongue slipped between her lips, turning her body into liquid fire. Moaning she leaned closer. Her hands found their way around his neck, as a hot pulse began in her Venus mound. How was it a simple kiss could make her feel as if she were melting like a pat of butter in a hot pan?
Somewhere a horse whinnied, but she pushed the sound from her mind. When he leaned back, she pulled him tighter to her, her breathing ragged and weak. She wanted more, so much more, even though she had no idea what more there could possibly be. He chuckled against her lips and deepened his kiss. Desperate to feel more of him she slipped her hands down his chest. Smooth skin bugling with hard muscle slid beneath her fingers. Oh my God, I am touching a man!
“Lord Lancastor? Are you here?”
Jolted from their kiss, they pulled apart as footsteps thumped across the common room to the bed chamber. The door opened and a shaft of light from a lantern permeated their seclusion.
“Oh my,” the strange man in the doorway exclaimed. “Excuse me for interrupting your tryst, my lord, but your brother did send me to enquire about you after the storm….”
With a squeal Felicity yanked the covers up to her chin as William rose from the bed and tossed his shirt on. It was then her gaze settled on the clergyman collar about the intruder’s neck. Oh no, oh no, no, no! Of all the people to stumble upon them, a man of the cloth was the worst she could imagine. In dismay she buried her face in the quilt.
“Father Brown, I am so glad you happened by. You see I—we, have gotten ourselves in a little bit of a tricky situation, as it were.”
When the chain rattled, she braved a peek over the edge of the sheet. The good father’s eyes practically bulged from their sockets when he realized they were not only in bed, but chained together. In any other position, she might have laughed at his comical expression; instead she groaned. Now the whole sordid tale would come out. Not only would she go to prison, but surely to hell afterward. And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, a familiar nobleman materialized behind the priest.
Clearing his throat William stepped in front of her and addressed the second man.
“Lord Carivale, how nice to see you again.”
Her groan echoed in the room. Lord Monty Carivale was her nemesis’s older brother and would surely recognize her, since he was a frequent visitor at the finishing school.
The lord in question peered around William. “Why Miss Beinfait, fancy seeing you here. I heard you left the school quite suddenly. My dear sister wondered what had become of you.”
Fie and fire! Is there any point wishing the floor will open up and swallow me whole?
Chapter Fourteen
William glanced at Felicity, who rode tightlipped beside him on Joe in the pack saddle. She must be uncomfortable, he realized, but due to the snow drifts, the clergyman and the young lord had left home their buggies and ridden out on horseback to the little hunting lodge. The chain dangling between their mounts jingled in a festive way as he tried to hold anxious Spartan in check. The young colt was frisky from being cooped up in the stall and the new experience of the dangling chain was making him more difficult than usual to rein in.
“So…this is a little…embarrassing.”
She tossed him a dirty look. “Maybe not for you, of course. I suppose my reputation will not matter much in Newgate.”
“True.” When he grinned to ease the tension, she focused her gaze between Joe’s ears. The idea of her in prison should not have bothered him; after all she did kidnap him, not to mention hit him over the head with a skillet…. She deserved to spend the rest of her life in Newgate, where she could not hurt anyone else, or herself…did she not? On the other hand he could understand her reasons for holding him captive, even if they were a trifle noddy.
He frowned at the clergyman and Lord Carivale riding ahead, deep in hushed conversation. No doubt he was going to be expected to confess his sins, which he was sure would come with a hefty ‘cleansing fee’ to be donated to the parish. Even though he had done naught but kiss Felicity, the fact still remained they were found in bed together, clothed or not. Even if they hadn’t been discovered in such a compromising position, they still spent a week together unchaperoned.
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