Thomas acknowledged Jensen with a tip of his hat.
"Where are you taking that poor old girl to, Thomas? Her sides look ready to split."
Thomas gave her the same wary look he had shot her over breakfast. "Taking her out to graze on the east hill."
Ignoring his curt response, Jensen ran over to get a closer look at the mare. Until now, she had concealed her knowledge about horses, but out of worry for the mother-to-be she was compelled to say something, whether Thomas was interested in hearing it or not. "Thomas, I don't know if it is wise to take her from the stables. She looks ready to foal any minute. Why the walk alone could trigger labor."
"Miss Jensen," he said, obviously annoyed that his time was being taken up by such nonsense, "the day you see me dusting the settees in the parlor is the day you can come down and manage the horses. Until then, please keep your notions to yourself."
Thomas had made her feel like a child. Angered, she stood for a moment watching as he led the horse toward the pasture on the hill. When something sharp poked through the rough-woven cloth of her skirt, Jensen nearly jumped out of her skin. It was Levi's large, red wolf nudging her with the end of a broken stick. Jensen couldn't help laughing at the sight of the fierce animal behaving like a playful pup.
"A game of fetch is it?" she said, just happy to see a friendly face.
Jensen felt the power of the wolf's jaw as she tugged at the stick and nearly fell on her backside when the strong teeth finally released. Then Ginger was off, her head twisting around as she ran, tongue lolling, watching the stick in feverish anticipation.
***
Levi, taking a much-needed break from his ledgers, lit a cheroot and walked over to the window of the plantation's office. From where he stood, he could see his newest servant hurling a stick toward the orchard that bordered the lawn and watched in amazement as his forbidding pet returned it. He was amused to see the high-spirited girl hike her skirts well above her prim ankle boots to race Ginger. He had a sudden, erotic urge to stroke the supple skin of those slender calves. He drummed his fingers on the window, annoyed that the only lustful thoughts he'd had of late were of his English maid. What annoyed him even more, was the fact that no woman, not even Andrea Trent, had ever stirred such a hunger in him.
Just yesterday evening as Jensen lit the parlor candles, her breast had accidentally brushed his arm, and he'd spent the better part of the evening hard for her. Perhaps, he should take a page from his brother's book and bed the comely, green-eyed wench. One good roll in the hay would certainly take the edge off, he assured himself, and immediately shook the thought from his head. Someone had to be accountable to the North name. Sometimes being the eldest was a damn nuisance. Still, he couldn't seem to pull himself away from the view.
He watched as her feet flew out of control, and she disappeared down the hill, her giddy laughter floating to him through the open window. He took several minutes convincing himself to keep a safe distance from the girl and then found himself walking out the door and heading in her direction.
***
Jensen, having lost her footing on the steep slope, had fallen headlong, landing on her hands and knees in the newly cut lawn. She was immediately greeted by a slobbery kiss from Ginger. Wrapping her arms around the wolf's neck, she pulled herself to a kneeling position. For some reason, the comforting warmth intensified the loneliness she had felt since leaving England. She buried her face deep in the animal's thick fur and squeezed tightly.
"And I thought Ginger only had eyes for me." Levi's deep voice shattered the silence.
Surprised and slightly embarrassed, Jensen, eyes squinting through the sun's glare, looked up to see his grin dazzling against his olive skin. Taking her arms from the wolf's neck, she busied herself retying the ribbon of her bonnet.
"Hey, Red, you still love me?" Levi asked as he sat himself comfortably beside Jensen, folding his arms atop his bent knees. Ginger walked over to him and rested her chin on his arms nuzzling his face in answer.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?"
"She certainly is," he agreed, turning to face Jensen. She couldn't help feeling that the enigmatic gray eyes were appraising her rather than the wolf.
"Sir!" Thomas shouted as he raced toward them from the stables. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stumbled over his words, "It's Calliope, no--what's her doggoned name--Calli--Calista, sir." As he was catching his breath, his arms drew a wide circle in the air, pantomiming the girth of the pregnant mare. "I tried everything I could think of, but she can't seem to deliver the foal--she's moaning something awful."
"Christ, I don't want to lose that horse." Levi sprung to his feet, pushing past Thomas and darting up the hill toward the stables.
Jensen, feeling somewhat to blame, ran after the two men.
Chapter 8
"Blast it, the foal is breech," Levi said as he knelt in the dark stall inspecting the mare's bulging side. She was jerking her neck violently with each contraction. Her eyes lolled unfocused, and her muzzle was flecked with froth. The other horses, made nervous by the mare's whining and thrashing, were snorting and pacing in their stalls. Levi sat back on his haunches and scrubbed his hair roughly in obvious despair.
"Thomas, go fetch the cook's sister. You know, Midwife Kent. She's probably helping in the kitchen about now." Thomas didn't react at all, just stood there looking dazed. "Wake up man, there's no time to lose," Levi roared, and Thomas began moving like a man in a dream.
Jensen watched from a dark corner of the stable as Levi continued examining the agonized creature, seemingly unaware of her presence. She was suddenly struck by the youthfulness of his face and doubted that he had even reached his thirtieth year. And then, almost as suddenly, with a surge of annoyance, she realized how truly handsome he was. A revelation that would have dawned on her sooner, she was certain, if he hadn't acted like such a stony-hearted brute toward her. She couldn't help wondering, though, if a brute would be so gentle with a horse. Seeing him comb his fingers tenderly through the golden brown mane, she recalled her mother telling her; a sure way to gauge a man's character was by the way he treated animals.
A burst of fresh air, followed Thomas as he opened the stable door, offering a short respite from the stale, reeking air, which was beginning to smother Jensen. Mrs. Kent hurried her limping gait to keep up with Thomas, who tugged impatiently at her sleeve.
"I don't know a thing about horses, only helped birth human babes. Though a couple of them did bear a passing resemblance to a horse," she said with a cackle, but the admonishing looks from her audience quickly stilled her laughter.
"Mrs. Kent, would you be kind enough to take a look. See if there is anything to be done for Calista." Mrs. Kent's craggy-face broke into a gap-toothed grin at Levi's warm tone. He took hold of her elbow and led her to the mare.
Mrs. Kent's gnarled hands thoroughly explored the distended stomach, roughly pushing and prodding at the immovable foal. She pressed on the small of her back as she straightened. "Just as Thomas thought, that babe is laying crosswise. I can't budge it from the outside, and I most certainly will not be putting my hands inside, if you excuse my meaning. Besides it'd take awfully small hands to do the job." Levi glanced hopelessly at his own large hands and sighed in frustration. "I'm afraid, Mr. North, there is nothing for it but to put the old girl out of her misery." The midwife gave a knowing shake of her gray-frizzled head.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent," Levi said in dismissal.
"All this fuss over a dumb animal," the old woman clucked to herself as she left the stables.
Levi strolled resignedly over to the horse and gently stroked her nose. "I'm sorry, Calista, but I can't bear to watch you in such agony."
He got up slowly, muttering curses under his breath. He moved to the stall's opening and pulled the ever-present pistol from his waistband. Facing the mare he cocked the flintlock and pointed it.
"No, please stop," Jensen screamed from the shadows and lunged for the gun.
Tak
en by surprise, Levi swung his muscular arm back sending her into a bale of hay. Undeterred by Jensen's outburst, he took aim again. In a panic, Jensen ran and threw herself between the gun and the mare.
"Are you mad, woman? I nearly shot you."
Sprawled over the horse's head, Jensen twisted around and found herself staring into the barrel of a gun. After what seemed an eternity, he dropped the weapon to his side. The look of utter disbelief still on his face.
"Please! My hands are small. Let me try," she said, swallowing hard.
An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. "Can't you see the animal is suffering. Without an expert horseman I have no other choice," he said pointedly.
The tears pooling in her green eyes, spilled over, making tracks on her dust covered cheeks. "Please, Mr. North?"
"Be quick about it. Whether I shoot her or not, she'll be dead soon enough, and I'd hate to see her suffering needlessly." Even before the last word was out of his mouth, Jensen had pulled loose the lacing of her snug-fitting bodice, using it to tie back her short curls. With her arms lifted, the panels of the bodice parted, and the sheer chemise pulled taut against her enticingly sweet dusky-rose nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched a tiny trickle of sweat travel a tantalizing path from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her delectable breasts. He thought he would lose complete control when she began rolling up her sleeves to reveal the satiny smooth skin of her forearms. He cleared his throat and fingered his collar, it was suddenly choking him.
"Sir, I'll need a bucket of water and some tallow," Jensen said placing a clean saddle blanket over the hay-littered ground. Already tense, she found herself even more unnerved when she became aware of Levi North's hard, hungry stare. Her skin shivered with gooseflesh, she felt as though he were devouring her with his eyes. Thomas, though, stood slackjawed looking at her as if she were a candidate for Bedlam and then turned a questioning glance at Levi, who nodded in grudging assent.
"And, Thomas," Levi said, "bring some lanterns, we're losing light quickly."
Jensen pressed on the horse's belly trying to determine the position of the foal. Fairly confident she had found the head and the front hoof, she lifted the tail aside and knelt down on the blanket. After rinsing her hands in the bucket of fresh water Thomas had provided, she used the tallow to grease her hands and forearms. An ear-splitting shriek rent the air as she attempted to slip her hands into the writhing animal. Two strong hind legs jerked back, slamming Jensen in the shoulder, throwing her flat on her rump. Through eyes glazed with tears, she peered round at the two strapping men standing idly by watching her. "I could use a hand here. If you aren't too busy, that is."
"Grab the legs, Thomas," Levi said and then situated himself behind the horse's head. Long black hair draped his face as he bent over the animal. His voice low and soothing, he stroked the twitching, sweat streaked neck.
Jensen resumed her position at the other end, and when the contraction subsided, she plunged her hands deep into the birth canal. She groped blindly in the cramped, moist hollow. She held her breath with each strong contraction as her arms were bruised by the crushing impact. Her fingers were becoming numb and incapable of distinguishing the different parts of the foal.
Tears threatened, as she finally felt what she was certain was the foal's muzzle. Taking a firm grip of it and one front hoof she tugged, making progress in tiny increments toward the opening. The strength in her arms was nearly depleted, her chemise was soaked through with sweat and the sickening smell of the fearful animal nearly overwhelmed her, but she persisted.
Gasping in relief as the head eased into the birth passage, Jensen pulled her arms out just as the slippery foal was expelled onto the bloodstained hay. The mare, now, lay motionless, panting for air. Levi released his hold on the horse and offered his hand to Jensen who struggled to her feet, discreetly shaking the prickly sensation from her legs. They stood in companionable silence watching and waiting. Tears flooded Jensen's eyes when the weakened mother finally raised herself enough to lick the newborn with her large pink tongue.
"Always surprising, Duff."
Embarrassed, she made a clumsy effort at drying her cheeks and then peered up at him. The dim lantern light shadowed the crease of his crooked smile. She shyly returned his smile.
"Thomas, rub Calista down and keep an eye on her for another hour or so. Miss Hawthorne and I will be returning to the house. Let me know if there are any changes." He pinched Jensen's chin between his fingers and finished mopping up her tears with the sleeve of his shirt.
They took turns washing their hands with the harsh saddle soap in the bucket of water. Jensen retied her bodice as Levi brushed the coarse dust-colored hair from his pants.
"You did wonderful, old girl," she said to Calista in parting.
As they headed out the stable door, they both seemed surprised that the sky had darkened to a deep blue-black. Jensen breathed in the crisp, clean air.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew so much about horses?" he asked.
"You never asked me," she answered quietly. And they walked the rest of the way in silence.
Parting where the path veered toward the servant's entrance, Levi stopped and turned to Jensen. "I think, perhaps, my stable man did survive that voyage after all," he said with a lift of one finely arched brow.
Chapter 9
The morning after delivering the foal, Jensen, finding it impossible to grip a comb with her aching hands, crammed a lawn cap over her tousled hair. Taking a quick peek at herself in Celia's mirror, she smiled to herself thinking how ridiculous it was to worry about how she looked scrubbing floors. She opened the door and plowed straight into Levi North. The impact was akin to slamming into the side of a barn. She had to catch hold of his shirt to steady herself.
"Sorry," she said dropping her hand and sidling past him without even thinking to question what he was doing outside her room. He flung his arm out to bar her path.
"Wait, Miss Hawthorne. I'd like to talk to you for a moment." Surprised by the unusual hesitancy in his voice, she stopped and stared at him. His inky black hair, still wet from washing, was secured neatly at his nape with a leather thong. The fresh, masculine scent of sandalwood soap clung to his skin. He stood for a moment rubbing his freshly shaven jaw, considering what he wanted to say. "Miss Hawthorne, would you accompany me to the supply store?"
"Maggie needs me to scrub the pantry floor today," she said, fingers nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Christ, your arms," he said, catching sight of the black and blue bruises mottling her arms from wrist to elbow.
Hastily, she dropped them down to her sides, thrusting her hands into her pinafore pockets. "They're just a little sore," she shrugged and attempted again to skirt past him.
"With those bruises you'll be no use to Maggie. Meet me out front. Thomas has already hitched the wagon." That said, he was gone.
With the help of Levi's outstretched hand, Jensen lifted herself onto the creaky wagon. She gasped as his powerful grip tightened on her tired, sore arm. Forgetting how light she was, he pulled her too hard, landing her smack-dab in his lap. Immediately, her face blushing pink, she scrambled off his hard, muscular thighs to plunk down on the splintery wagon-box. Trying her best to ignore his mischievous grin, she busied herself with smoothing her apron over her knees. She had a hard time suppressing her own smile, though. Despite the fact that she was more than a little apprehensive about what the day held, Jensen couldn't help feeling a twinge of exhilaration, being out in the fresh air and away from her chores.
With a soft thud, Ginger jumped onto the bed and immediately flopped down for a nap. Thomas reined in alongside them, astride Powder, a cream-colored gelding. Levi turned toward him. "Do you have the supply list?" Jensen found herself admiring his thick queue of hair, gleaming like ebony against the white linen of his shirt.
Thomas nodded and then acknowledged Jensen with an infinitesimal lift of his brow. Jensen wondered if he was a littl
e miffed about the night before. Although he had seemed relieved that the colt was born healthy, she couldn't help feeling that he was angry with her for interfering in his duties.
Jensen enjoyed the scenery, and it occurred to her that the road divided the plantation in two. One side patterned with row upon row of tobacco seedlings, the spacing as precise as the teeth of a comb. Just across the way, the wagon path seemed barely able to hold back the untamed wilds. Fragrant bridges of pendulant blue wisteria, dangling like the tails of some improbable animal, linked the shaggy gray-barked hickories. Glistening clusters of ruby-red raspberries nestled cautiously in their thorny nest of brambles. Tiny iridescent birds darted in and out of the web of flowering vines with amazing speed, humming like well-oiled spinning wheels.
The wagon clanked loudly as it pitched the riders from side to side. Jensen slid discreetly toward the end of the bench when first her arm and then her breast made contact with Levi's arm.
"Have you delivered a breech foal before?" Levi's eyes stared straight ahead as his deep voice carried over the sound of the wheels.
"Actually, I've only seen it done by stable hands," Jensen answered, trying to tuck her stubborn curls back beneath the prim lawn cap.
"You must be a fast learner. You were so confident, I was sure you'd done it before."
"I've been around horses all my life. Some of the qualifications Hawthorne advertised were true," she confessed with a blush.
"Tell me, Jensen, would you prefer to work in the house or the stables?"
Jensen turned toward him. Her lips parted in surprise. Levi glanced at her. His mouth curled into a smile, his teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. The grin opened wide into a deep laugh.
"Duff, you look like a child who was just given a choice between strawberries and spinach."
"I would--I'll be sure to--" stumbling over her words she swallowed hard, glancing up through a heavy curtain of dark lashes. "Do I really have the choice?" she asked, suddenly wary.
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