One Night To Be Sinful

by Samantha Garver

  "Son?"

  Calvin's attention moved only momentarily from the packed earth of the road beside the still carriage to the old man standing at his phaeton. "Yes?"

  "I said, I think that wheel will do nicely, at least until you and the missus can acquire a new one." Leonard Redman removed his hat to wipe the sweat from his bald head.

  Calvin's back, beneath the material of his shirt and jacket, was damp with sweat as well. Though it had been fairly early in the morning as they began to remove the fragments of the old wheel to the carriage and replace it with one Leonard had found amidst the junk in his back field, the temperature had been warm and the air humid from the rain. Calvin was aware of the odor of his own efforts gradually overpowering the sweet scent of Abby that had been in his shirt when he donned it.

  "Thank you again." Calvin nodded to the old man. "This will get us back into North Rutherford, if not to Abigail's home."

  If Leonard noticed the slip of the younger man's tongue, he did not show it. As he hefted himself into the phaeton, Calvin let his gaze move back to where it had been fixed for a long time, even as they worked on the carriage.

  Abigail had told him she found lying loathsome; only recently was he realizing he did not particularly care for the act himself. If not to the Redmans, to Abby herself. As he watched her sleeping that morning, unable to take his eyes off the soft curve of her cheek and the pale slope of one exposed shoulder, Calvin had decided he was going to tell her the truth. He would face what was sure to be her understandable rage and begin the process of making amends. Making, if he could, a permanent place for himself in Abigail's life.

  Calvin felt a muscle in his jaw begin to flex steadily as he stared at the indentation in the road that caused their accident. Despite the pouring rain that had lasted until the break of dawn, little of the dirt had been packed down. The hole was still present: large, with flat sides. The hole, in fact, was shaped almost exactly like a square.

  If Calvin told Abigail the truth, she would send him away until he could find a way to earn her forgiveness for his lies-he could hardly imagine her understanding her brother's logic. While Calvin was gone, she would be alone at her estate. For all accounts and purposes, left at the mercy of the wolf who lived on the property that bordered hers. She was too damned stubborn to realize she needed him with her.

  His gaze burned into the section of missing earth as if his stare alone could make it disappear.

  "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, Calvin," Leonard called from his phaeton, "I can understand why you look so angry."

  "What are you thinking?"

  "Someone dug that hole." Leonard held the reins in one hand and fisted the other on his hip. "Stupid youngsters playing a prank, I imagine."

  1Vo, Calvin thought, neither Raleigh nor Dobbs was young.

  "They probably never meant for your lady to get hurt."

  They meant to hurt her, alright.

  Leonard's next words finally permeated the grim cloud around Calvin. His tone was jovial and perceptive to the point of drawing the other man's gaze back to him.

  "You can't tell that to a gentleman who believes his woman is in danger, though." Leonard grinned. "She may not be your wife, but it's pretty clear Abigail is yours."

  Calvin met the other's gaze evenly. "Yes."

  To keep it that way, he would continue with his lie.

  Chapter 21

  "By the bye, how did you and Calvin meet?"

  Abigail restrained the urge to groan aloud and sent a silent curse to the man who had disappeared before she had even awakened that morning. She scooped up another spoonful of the porridge Prudence had made for breakfast and took her time swallowing as she searched for a plausible response. Not only did she not like to lie, she wasn't very good at it.

  "My brother"-she was pleased it wasn't a complete falsehood-"introduced us."

  "How nice." Prudence took Abby's empty bowl before the younger woman could even think about getting up herself. "Leonard and I met at church. He used to pull my hair and step on my skirts. I hated him." She grinned over her round shoulder. "We were, of course, only ten at the time."

  Abigail smiled back, pushing up from the table. "Let me help you clean, Prudence."

  "Nonsense, dear. You're a guest." The older woman had the bowl and spoon cleaned and put away before she even finished the sentence.

  "I can't tell you how much we appreciate your kindness, most especially helping us with the carriage."

  "Oh, Leonard had no use for that wheel anyway." Prudence wiped her hands on her apron. "And to tell you the truth, I like the company. My Leonard's a sweetheart, but I get tired of hearing about horse teeth and crops all day. It's nice to have a woman to talk to."

  Abigail nodded, leaning heavily on her crutch when her knee gave a slight twinge to remind her of the circumstances that brought them to the farm. "I didn't have many friends," she said, "until after my accident. While I was recuperating, some ladies I had encountered only briefly once began to visit regularly. I think, had I never had my accident, we may never have met again."

  "I believe everything happens for a reason, Abby," Prudence said thoughtfully. "Maybe you had your accident so you could have these friends."

  It was true. Had she not been in the awful wreck, she may have never gotten to truly know the women who were now her best friends. She would have married Valmonte and perhaps never known the kind of man he really was. She wouldn't have moved into the solace of the country, never met Calvin. It was frightening, really, what she may have lost had she not nearly died.

  "I think I hear them coming." Prudence had tilted her head to the side to listen before speaking. She linked her arm through Abigail's as they stepped outside to watch the two vehicles approach. "You shall have to come see us again, Abby."

  "Absolutely." She nodded, her eyes on the man behind the reins of the carriage. Something inside her was instantly aware of Calvin's grim expression, the tight set of his jaw and tenseness in his shoulders.

  "Abigail was just telling me how you both met, Calvin," Prudence said as he dropped from the carriage.

  His brows only snapped together briefly, a movement Abigail was certain only she had seen. "Yes," Calvin said without looking at the short and round woman next to her, "at a party."

  Abigail winced.

  "A party?" Prudence blinked.

  "Yes," Abby said quickly. "That's where my brother introduced us."

  I see." Prudence smiled with understanding.

  There was something controlled about the way Leonard cleared his throat before addressing his wife. "The hole that caught their carriage was not an accident."

  Abigail's eyes went wide, darting to the man who had come to stand before her. He remained silent.

  "No?" Prudence said.

  "I was telling Calvin it was probably young pranksters not knowing someone could actually get hurt," Leonard explained.

  "Indeed." Prudence appeared as horrified as Abigail felt. "Abby or Calvin could have broken their necks."

  Abigail's breath froze in her lungs as an awful picture formed in her mind. She saw Calvin being slung from behind the reins and crashing to the ground to lie unmoving. She went cold all over as she focused again on the man who could have died driving her carriage. It would have been, she was uncomfortably certain, her fault.

  "We should go." Calvin reached for her elbow, his tone devoid of any emotion. "I'll have to get a new wheel made, and you need to send word to your brother as to why you didn't make the soiree last night."

  "Yes," she said. She paused to address the old couple standing before their home, arms linked loosely around each other. "Thank you." She managed a smile. "For everything."

  "Remember what I said, dear." Prudence waved.

  Abigail was stiff in Calvin's arms as he lifted her into the carriage. There were things, perhaps, that should have been said after what transpired between them the night before. But her mind was on other matters entirely.

  "The
re will be a road," she said after she was seated, "before we get into the village. It goes to the right; you will see a sign for another farm like this one. Please take us there instead of home."

  Calvin straightened from where he had set her crutch on the floor of the cab. His brows drew together.

  "Please, Calvin. It is important." She did not look up as she spoke, afraid that he would be able to see her guilt before she could explain.

  "All right, Abby." He waited a long time, perhaps to see if she would lift her head, and then closed the cab door.

  Abigail was dimly aware of the carriage beginning to move, slightly lopsided now with Leonard's wheel. She was concentrating on what she would say to Calvin, how she would explain to the man who had been so kind as to defend her from Raleigh that it was, in fact, all her fault that the viscount was so intent in his hatred for her.

  The sign before the road read only HUTCHINSON and bore an engraving of a trio of horses. Calvin brought the carriage up to the large stone house that sat in the center of the clearing. There was a stable-as big as five of Abigail's-set off from the house, and the land was divided into at least a halfdozen fenced sections. Within a few of the pens, horses of varied breeds basked in the sun.

  "This is where I purchased Achilles," Abigail said as he lifted her from the cab. She was noticeably stiff in his arms and wouldn't meet his eye. Not for the first time, Calvin wondered if her reticence was due to embarrassment from the night before.

  Regret.

  A woman had appeared at the door of the house as Abigail was lowered to her feet. She was petite, with silver hair and intelligent brown eyes. The front of her apron was dusted with flour and butter. "Good morning, Lady Abby!"

  "Maggie." Abigail smiled and lifted a hand.

  "Do you need to speak with Luther, or are you just visiting?"

  "Visiting," Abby returned. She slipped her arm into her crutch and began to move toward the fence nearest the stables. She did not look back to make sure Calvin followed, only said, "Luther Hutchinson, Maggie's husband, is one of the best horse handlers in North Rutherford. In all of England, I should think. He led a regiment in the cavalry during the war."

  As if on cue, two men departed one of the stable's many openings. One had hair the same hue as his wife and a face that bore the results of a life of hard work and happiness. The man beside him, leading an irritated stallion by the reins, was almost identical save for his black hair and unlined face. Father and son nodded their greeting before turning their full attention to the horse.

  "Hutchinson takes excellent care of his animals," Abigail was saying as she stopped before one of the larger fenced areas. There were five horses in the pen, four lingering beneath a shade tree and an aged mare that was sauntering to where the two humans stood.

  Abigail propped her crutch against the wooden fence, resting her weight on a corner post as she reached out to the mare.

  Calvin watched Abby gently stroke the animal's white muzzle, understanding hitting him the moment she finally turned to look at him.

  "When I was in the phaeton accident, both horses pulling the vehicle went over the bridge with me. The first died immediately. The second, the one that landed in the water not far from where I lay, lived until my rescuers came. She had to have been in awful pain; I was told she had broken two legs and the remnants of the reins were cutting into her throat." Her voice was soft, her gaze haunted with the past. "I could hear her breathe in the storm. She did not die, though, until right after I was taken from the river." Abigail looked back to the old mare. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I would have been more afraid, more willing to die, had I not heard that horse. Had I believed I was all alone."

  She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes closed, regained her composure. "When I heard Raleigh take the whip to this mare, I couldn't bear it. She had been unable to keep up with his hunting team, I think. I could not imagine he would miss her were she gone."

  "You did take the horse," Calvin said.

  "Yes." Her gaze met his again. "Tuttleton and I brought her here. Mr. Hutchinson saw the whip burns on her and accepted the mare at his farm with no questions asked." Her smile was bittersweet. "I like to believe my actions justified, but it still remains that I am a thief."

  "Is this when all the trouble started with Raleigh?" Calvin's eyes drifted to the horse and then her haunches, where the scars of her torture remained. He scowled.

  "We lived in communal dislike before his horse went missing, because of the parties and traps. The viscount thought it was Timothy and his father who had taken the animal. One of his servants reported seeing a large man and a smaller one leaving the property with it."

  "The small man was you."

  Abigail nodded. "Tuttleton refused to defend himself; in an effort to protect me, I believe. When I stood up for him and Timothy against the magistrate, insisted I knew their whereabouts all evening long, my stables caught fire."

  A lazy breeze laid a tendril of her hair across the bridge of her freckled nose. "I am sorry I did not tell you this sooner, Calvin. I truly thought I could manage the battle on my own. The idea that what I did could have cost you your life yesterday"-she took a deep, shuddering breath-"is quite unbearable. I shall, of course, write you an excellent reference when we return to the estate. So you may leave as soon as you wish."

  His attention moved from the horse to the woman gazing so intently up at him. "And if I do not wish to go?"

  She blinked. "Certainly you do not want to keep under the employ of a thief who has put your life in danger?"

  "I know of no such person." Calvin slowly shook his head, reaching out with one hand to tuck the wispy tendril of her hair behind an ear. "You did not steal the viscount's horse, as I see it. You saved her."

  Abigail released a long, slow breath. She looked down at the ground by his booted feet. "He must have had Dobbs dig that hole in the road. I took a fall, but you could just as easily have been injured. Had you broken your neck, as Prudence said, it would have been because of my actions."

  Calvin captured her delicate chin, gently lifted her head. "Listen to me carefully, Abby." He waited until her bay eyes met his before speaking again. "You will stop this at once. What is done is done, and if you could change the past, I highly doubt you would not have rescued this horse from whatever Raleigh had in store for her."

  She shook her head.

  "I do not blame you for what happened yesterday," Calvin went on. "Raleigh would never have known to set the trap had I not told his cousin we were planning to take the road."

  "But Calvin-"

  "No." He covered her lips with his thumb and almost forgot what he was going to say. Almost gave himself up to the texture of her mouth, as he had the night before. "You brought me out here believing I would think you a thief and God knows what else. I am telling you that I do not. Nothing you have done in the past, certainly nothing you did because you believed it was right and would save another creature's life, will ever change the fact that you are my Abby."

  He expected her to scowl at the intent of his words, the possession they implied. Instead, her expression reminded him a lot of the wonder she had shown the night before as she clutched to him as if for dear life.

  "Now"-he dropped his hand before he was tempted to kiss her in the sight of anyone passing by-"let us get back home. I don't want you on your leg any longer than necessary until you are feeling better."

  They turned together toward the carriage and had made it halfway in shared silence before he felt her touch. Her free hand brushed against the material of his coat, as if unsure, then settled neatly in the crook of his arm. He looked down at her as she carefully kept her own gaze focused on the carriage, then let his hand come up to cover hers.

  Chapter 22

  "You are certain you don't wish me to send for Dr. McKinney?"

  "I'm fine, Margot, really." Abigail met the other woman's gaze evenly when she paused in dumping the last pail of steaming water into the bathtub. She wis
hed Calvin hadn't shared their mishap with the two women who had clogged the front door in their efforts to meet the carriage's arrival.

  "Calvin had to carry you up the stairs."

  She wished he hadn't done that either.

  Abigail had already removed her gown and was in the process of reaching for the ties of her slip when she spotted the pink abrasions across her skin; burns from Calvin's morning beard brushing her breasts. She reached for her stockings instead. "My knee pains me still, but it is nothing to fret over. Calvin didn't even give me the chance to tell him I could manage on my own."

  "At least," Margot huffed as she set a chair near the bathtub, "let Mrs. Poole make you one of her poultice wraps."

  Abigail's nose wrinkled, recalling the foul odor of the last wrap the cook had concocted for her. When she looked up from her last stocking, however, Margot's expression was vaguely warning. "All right." She added quickly as she slowly made her way across the room to the tub, "But I will not wear it all day. Strange insects began to hover about me when I wore the last too long."

  "Good enough." Margot finally smiled. "Do you need anything else, Abby?"

  "No. Thank you for preparing the water for me.

  She was already slipping her bare feet into the hot tub when her maid closed the bedchamber door. Abigail tugged her slip overhead and tossed it onto the chair beside her crutch and sank gratefully into the water. The steam rising off its surface smelled faintly of roses, and Abigail smiled at Margot's thoughtfulness.

  Harry gave her a dirty look when she lifted the washcloth from the side of the tub, the end of which the rabbit had been happily chewing. Abigail applied the rag gently to the tender abrasions just below her collarbones; the fading red marks seemed to be her only proof of what had happened with Calvin the night before. She had been worried, when the sun rose and she registered what had actually taken place, things would be different between them. Though Calvin had made no mention of the change in their relationship that morning, she was certain Mrs. Poole and Margot would notice something out of sorts.