Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28)

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Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28) Page 17

by St. Claire, Anna


  “I didn’t want you to get in trouble and thought I could sneak you in myself. But when I tried to help you up, you tumbled off the bench and took me down with you.”

  “Into a mud puddle?”

  She nodded.

  “If one were to be precise about it, I didn’t push you into it then. We simply fell in because you were foolish enough to try to lift me.”

  “I was only trying to help. I wanted to protect you so that you would not get in trouble with your family.”

  He laughed. “That’s rich. My family? My father and grandfather would have clapped me on the shoulder and asked me how many girls I’d...entertained that night.”

  Katie looked as though she was about to cry again.

  “Blast. What’s wrong now?”

  “Is that what you were doing on the night of my party?”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was merely drinking. I’m nothing like Yardsley.” Not that he was a saint, but even he would have had the decency not to cheat on his bride on his wedding day.

  “My parents assured me you were worse.”

  “They just assumed I would be since I’m a Jameson. But Yardsley’s reputation is no better. They were willing to overlook his because he is one of the richest men in England. I’m sorry they pushed you into marrying him. I could have told them it would never work. A girl like you needs to marry for love.”

  He started to get out of the water, but thought better of it. Katie, despite being the most irritating girl in existence, had just endured a bad scare and narrowly avoided drowning. He would take it easy on her today. “Close your eyes, Katie.”

  “Why?”

  “Are your senses so addled that you have not noticed? I’m wearing no clothes. And by the way, that twitching thing you felt against your thigh wasn’t a fish.”

  She shrieked and rose to scamper away, but her slippers were wet and the grass was slick. She tumbled back into the water, panicked and began to flail even though the water on this side of the river was not deep. It would have only come up to her chest had she bothered to stand.

  He lifted her up and held her against him. “Katie, calm down. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Stop struggling. You’re not going to drown.”

  She shrieked in his ear.

  Which reminded him to ask why she was screaming earlier. “Was someone chasing you?”

  “Not someone. Some thing. I accidentally walked too close to a fox den and the mother fox chased me away from her kits. I thought she was going to bite me.”

  He tried not to roll his eyes. “You are quite the adventuress, aren’t you?”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Don’t mock me. I’ve been ridiculed enough this week.”

  “Sorry. My point is, you wouldn’t last more than five minutes on your own.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve lasted perfectly well since leaving London, and that was almost a week ago. I made it all the way up here on my own, didn’t I?”

  “I suppose. Why are you still wearing your wedding gown? And your perfect white gloves? Don’t you have a wardrobe filled with clothes at Pringle Grange?”

  She cleared her throat. “I do. But no one knows I’m here yet. I rode the mail coach as far as St. Michael’s Priory and then walked the rest of the way. I was just cutting through your property on the way to my house when the fox chased me.”

  No wonder she looked pale and exhausted in addition to looking like a drowned water rat. Her long, dark hair fell flat against her cheeks. Her big, green eyes usually sparkled as bright as emeralds, but also looked rather flat at the moment. She had dark circles under her eyes. “Katie, do your parents know where you’ve gone?”

  She cast her gaze down. “No.”

  “Bollocks, they’ll be worried sick about you.”

  “I know. But I needed to get away before they made me marry Yardsley. I wanted time to decide what I’m going to do. Oh, dear! What if they have Bow Street runners waiting for me at Pringle Grange? I should have thought of it sooner.”

  He gently brushed back the few strands of hair plastered to her cheek. “You are too tired to think straight just now.”

  She nodded and began to nibble her lip.

  After a moment, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I can’t go back there until I’m certain it’s safe. Would you mind terribly if I came home with you?”

  “To Alnwick Hall?”

  That would be a terrible mistake.

  She was still looking up at him with soft, trusting eyes. “Just for a day or two.”

  “Out of the question. Phillipa isn’t here. You and I would be alone save for the Crisps. The wife is my housekeeper and her husband takes care of the Alnwick grounds.”

  “I remember them. They’ve been with your family for ages. I would be no trouble to any of you. I’ll do my best to stay quietly out of your way.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You do know my reputation, don’t you?”

  “Are you suggesting I’m in danger of being seduced by you? I thought you didn’t like me.”

  “I don’t,” he grumbled, surprised that she was not more afraid of him. In truth, she appeared intrigued more than horrified.

  “Then where’s the problem?”

  “I suppose there isn’t one.” Since she did not seem at all put out by the arrangement, he lifted her back onto the river bank. “Fine. Sit here while I dress. Close your eyes and don’t you dare peek.”

  “As if I ever would.” She tipped her chin in the air. “I have no interest in gawking at you.”

  “Good. Then don’t. Because I am completely, bare-arsed naked. Something you would have noticed if you weren’t so distracted by almost dying.” He swam the few strokes to the spot where he’d left his clothes spread atop a gorse bush. The low lying shrubs and small trees with branches leaning out over the water were not going to hide much of him if she did choose to look.

  As for him, he did not much care if she saw him naked. But the sight of him would give the girl another shock and she’d had enough surprises this week. Not even he had the heart to cause her more strife.

  He quickly donned his breeches, boots, and work shirt that still reeked of his sweat. “Mrs. Crisp will feed us,” he called over his shoulder as he tucked in his shirt. “She’s an excellent cook. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  “I am.”

  He strode out from behind the barrier of shrubs and took the reins of his trusted gray, Templar, who was tethered nearby. “She’s a much better cook than your Mrs. Simms at Pringle Grange. Her food tastes like sawdust. Why does your mother keep her on?”

  “Her cooking is just fine. But I will agree your Mrs. Crisp is unrivaled.”

  He returned to her side, wondering why she was suddenly blushing. Had she been peeking? No, the Perfect Miss Pringle would never do such a thing. “I’m sure there will be a hearty stew waiting for us. But you’ll have to change out of those wet clothes first. Phillipa keeps some gowns here. We’ll find you something of hers to wear.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “Mrs. Crisp will help you out of your wedding gown.” Because he certainly had no desire to put his hands on her to help her out of her clothes.

  “Don’t call it that.”

  “What? Your wedding gown? As you wish. It’s ruined anyway.” The fine silk was soaking wet and molded to her body.

  Her very shapely and beautiful body.

  Blessed saints!

  When did this happen?

  He picked her up, ignoring the jolt of heat now coursing through him as he took her back in his arms to seat her on Templar. “Hold onto the saddle or Templar’s mane. I’ll walk you back.”

  “No. I don’t want anyone to see me. Get on behind me and take me back to your home as fast as possible.”

  Bad idea.

  He shrugged. “All right.”

  “Thank you, Alnwick.”

  “Call me Niall. I hate that title.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it cam
e with nothing but a pile of debts and an estate on the verge of turning to rubble.” He climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, telling himself it was only to keep her from falling off.

  It had nothing to do with the fact that perhaps...just perhaps...her body was magnificent and felt extraordinarily good against him.

  This was Katie Pringle.

  His lifelong nemesis.

  He was never going to admit that he might have been wrong about her all these years.

  No, he and Katie did not like each other.

  He was going to keep it that way.

  Even if his body disagreed.

  About the Author

  Anna St. Claire

  Anna St.Claire is a big believer that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself. She sprinkles her stories with laughter, romance, mystery and lots of possibilities, adhering to the belief that goodness and love will win the day.

  Anna is both an avid reader author of American and British historical romance. She and her husband live in Charlotte, North Carolina with their two dogs and often, two beautiful granddaughters, who live nearby. Daughter, sister, wife, mother, and Mimi—all life roles that Anna St. Claire relishes and feels blessed to still enjoy. And she loves her pets – dogs and cats alike.

  Anna relocated from New York to the Carolinas as a child. Her mother, a retired English and History teacher, always encouraged Anna’s interest in writing, after discovering short stories she would write in her spare time.

  As a child, she loved mysteries and checked out every Encyclopedia Brown story that came into the school library. Before too long, her fascination with history and reading led her to her first historical romance—Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, now a treasured, but weathered book from being read multiple times. The day she discovered Kathleen E. Woodiwiss,’ books, Shanna and Ashes In The Wind, Anna became hooked. She read every historical romance that came her way and dreams of writing her own historical romances took seed.

  Today, her focus is primarily the Regency and Civil War eras, although Anna enjoys almost any period in American and British history. She would love to connect with any of her readers on her website – www.annastclaire.com, through email—[email protected].

  Also by Anna St. Claire

  Earl of Weston

  Earl of Bergen

  The Earl She Left Behind

  Romancing A Wallflower

  Embers of Anger

  Silver Bells and Mistletoe

  The Duke’s Golden Rings

  Lyon’s Prey

  A Gift For Agatha

 

 

 


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