The supple, fawn-colored breeches slipped easily over her slender legs and hips. "I think these will do," she said, as she awkwardly twisted her head in an attempt to get a view of her backside. She felt amazingly at home in breeches and sorely missed her emerald green riding suit with the black velvet trim. Without her uncle's knowledge, she had commissioned the seamstress to sew her a pair of matching breeches, which she concealed beneath the skirt. Once the manor was out of sight, she would quickly rid herself of the cumbersome skirt.
"Turn around, let's have a look," Polly said, giving Jensen's shoulder a bit of a nudge to spin her around. "A bit tight in the bottom. But they are boy's breeches after all. And we girls know that our bums tend to be a bit more ample than the fellows'." She laughed heartily. Jensen smiled in spite of herself, thinking it was hard not to like the pudgy little woman, even if she was a bit nosy.
A light knock on the backroom door was followed immediately by Levi's tall figure. "Excuse me for interrupt . . ." He stopped and stared at Jensen's delicate but womanly curves tucked snugly into the deerskins. He dragged his fingers through his hair. His eyes fixed on her bottom half. "Skirts certainly have taken on a strange shape these days." He fingered his collar, and Jensen noticed that his Adam's apple became more prominent as he swallowed hard. "Uh, don't forget to fit her for some riding boots as well Polly." He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he backed out the door.
The two women exchanged an amused look and then giggled. "Well, I must say, you do cut a fine little figure in those, but I certainly never would have expected that kind of reaction from Levi North," Polly said with a gleam in her eye.
Fitting boots to Jensen's slim feet was a more difficult task, but once accomplished, Jensen threw her frock back on and strolled through the store to admire more of the wares.
Thumbing through the collection of calico fabrics hanging from bolts on the wall, Jensen felt a large unfamiliar hand take hold of hers. Turning quickly, she found herself face to face with smooth pink cheeks, wearing a slightly askew powdered wig, and a chinless smile. The man was built small, with the exception of a very large round belly that stretched the fabric of his satin vest.
"Mmmm and who might you be, little treasure?" he said, giving Jensen a repulsively, wet kiss on the back of her hand. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting."
A loud clunk behind Jensen startled them both. They turned to see Levi standing by a huge bag of oats.
"Ah, Levi--good to see you. I thought I saw your boy loading up your wagon."
"Williams," Levi said unsmiling, with a curt nod.
"Tsk, tsk. I've heard you're in dire need of a decent stable man. That scrawny mare of yours is not going to survive giving birth without an expert's assistance. I myself have hired a man of impeccable credentials. Why, I already have two new thoroughbred fillies. Born champions if I do say so myself. It's a shame you can't get yourself some decent help," he said with a simpering smile. Just then, a small woman matching his stature and coloring appeared by his side holding a basket of goods.
Levi bowed slightly at the woman with a quick, "Mornin', Mrs. Williams," and then turned back to her husband. "I'm pleased to hear about your new stable hand. He has quite a reputation. Now, if you would kindly release the hand of my new stable hand, we could get on with our business."
Mr. Williams looked down at Jensen's hand, realizing that he still held it. He dropped it and blushed profusely, as though he sensed his wife's cold, hard stare on the side of his face. "Employing a woman in your stables! You've really gone too far this time, North!"
Levi acknowledged his tirade with a grin, lifted the bag of grain easily onto his shoulder, took hold of Jensen's wrist, and led her away with Williams still launching caustic remarks at his back. "It is bad enough that your slave labor parades around in a livery uniform fit for the gentry, but this is truly scandalous!" Jensen smiled to herself as William's grating voice trailed them out of the shop.
"Well, I think Thomas has everything loaded," Levi said, heaving the bag into the bed of the wagon. He gave a sharp whistle for Ginger, who had been terrorizing a flock of pigeons in the road.
A loud, "Yah," coupled with a snap of the reins, and they were headed back to Moss Rose at a trot.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Levi said, leaning back to fish for something in his coat pocket. He handed Jensen a small velvet covered box. She took it timidly from him.
"Thank you for saving Calista and her foal," he said simply, his eyes on the road.
Jensen's hands shook slightly as she opened the thin box. Nestled inside was the glittering bracelet with the pale green gems. "It's beautiful, but it seems a tad unpractical for a stable hand," she blurted out and instantly felt like an ungrateful child. She was thankful that he didn't bother replying to her rude statement but just continued to stare straight ahead at the road. In what she hoped was an unobtrusive gesture, she slid the box into her pocket.
Chapter 10
The walls of Moss Rose's library were neatly lined with continuous columns of books, occasionally punctuated by Indian art relics and porcelain trinkets collected by Susannah North. Levi fingered the hand painted wooden mermaid, his mother's favorite. He'd been only five when he had proudly presented it to her as a birthday gift.
"The crops look good, Hawk," Malaton commented as he gulped down a shot of rum like it was water.
"The weather's been cooperative this year. Had a bit of black-root rot down in the southernmost field, but we caught it in time. The men are always on the lookout for pests. I certainly can't afford a disastrous harvest like the one that befell my father when I was a boy. The cutworm nearly destroyed his entire yield." Levi lit a cheroot and leaned back against the desk.
"I can remember the fun we had throwing those ugly blighters into a flame just to watch them pop," Malaton said, as he helped himself to another drink, swallowed and finished with a loud open-mouthed sigh of satisfaction. "Hell's fire, Hawk, this place is like a graveyard. How do you keep from going mad?"
"It's called work, Mal. I don't have time to go mad. I've got too much to do."
"Hey, buddy, don't confuse me with Matt, I work. I've been up trapping in those godforsaken mountains for three months." He stuck out his large, callused hands, riddled with old and new skinning knife scars for proof. "Speaking of Matt, where is the fair-haired half of the North brothers? No doubt he is still being dragged around town by that uppity little witch, Regina," he said in answer to his own question.
Levi walked over to the cutglass brandy decanter and poured himself some of the fragrant liquor. "You know Matthias, always looking for the gentleman's life. Regina and her father are working very hard to get him a seat in the House of Burgesses."
"The House of Burgesses!" Malaton exclaimed, sitting up with interest. "Well, I'll be damned."
"What's so amazing about that? You know he can charm his way into anything."
"I guess you're right. And I can see Matt fitting right in with those pompous asses and their powdered wigs. Sitting around all day debating and yammering, never having to break a sweat or blister a palm. It's ideal for Matthias," Malaton said with a chuckle.
Levi picked up the bottle of brandy and motioned it toward his friend with a raise of his eyebrows.
"No thanks, I hate to mix my liquors." Malaton happily polished off another shot of rum. "I say we head into town tonight and stir up some trouble."
"I say that if you keep slugging them back like that you won't be going anywhere except face down on my new Persian rug," Levi said with a swallow of the amber liquid from his glass.
"Look who's talking!"
"Good point," Levi said with a lift of his glass.
"By the way, are you crazy sending that pretty little thing down to the stables to work. Wouldn't it be much more pleasant to have her wiggling that fine bottom of hers around the house, bending over to wash floors and dust the furniture."
"Christ almighty Mal, is that all you ever think about?" Le
vi grumbled.
"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Hawk. I saw the way you were looking at her. I haven't seen that much lust in your face since we were twelve, and Matt's French tutor bent over you with a low cut dress," he mused. "I can't believe I didn't see one of Matt's little trophy necklaces hanging between those delicious breasts of hers. Or have you threatened him to keep his hands off this one?"
"Mal, you're spending too much time alone in the hills," Levi said, putting down his glass. "I'll see you later tonight. I've got to go check on my mare and her new foal."
"You sure it's the horses you're checking on?" Malaton said with a sly smile.
***
Hell's fire, how was it that Malaton could always read his thoughts, Levi wondered as he strode purposefully through the courtyard. The still, moist air was heavy with the fragrance of jasmine, reminding him of the scent of her hair. How he longed to bury his face in it. Malaton was right, damn him. It wasn't the horses that drew him to the stables. He craved a glimpse of his stable hand, especially in her new snug-fitting riding breeches. Wanting to kick himself when he realized that his hands were actually trembling just at the thought of seeing her, he shoved them into his pockets and cursed under his breath as he headed toward the paddock. His mood did not improve when he found half his field hands lollygaging around the stables. Jensen seemed completely oblivious to his men's hungry stares as she curried the gray mare.
Levi cleared his throat loudly and folded his arms across his chest. His hard stare sent the men scurrying in every direction. He really couldn't blame them, though, when he found his own eyes riveted to her shapely form.
"Where's your jacket, Miss Hawthorne?" he called to Jensen as he launched himself over the paddock fence, his black boots landing with a soft thud on the straw-littered dirt.
Jensen turned to him, shading her pale eyes against the still-bright sun. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed how the sweat-soaked fabric of her shirt clung like a second skin to her breasts.
"'Tis a might warm for a jacket, sir." She saw where his gaze fell, and a pink blush suffused her cheeks.
"You're too much of a distraction for my men in those tight leathers," he said, his eyes still lingering on her soft female curves.
"I'm glad to see that they haven't had any effect on you, Mr. North. Would you have me wear a pannier and whalebone corset to shovel out the stalls?"
He raked his fingers through his hair. "Just try to look a little less womanly while you're grooming the horses, or my fields will be sure to rot."
A loud laugh and the clink of the gate latch turned their attention. Matthias walked toward them shaking his head and chuckling to himself. "Now, how the hell, brother, is she supposed to look less womanly?" Avoiding his brother's disapproving glare, Matthias kept his eyes on Jensen, who was now starting to squirm under the North brothers' bold scrutiny.
"What brings you out here, Matt? Aren't you afraid you'll get your boots dirty?"
Matthias shrugged. "Now, Levi, aren't you always encouraging me to get more involved in running the plantation? It occurred to me just this morning that the stables might be a good place to start."
"Matt, you wouldn't even know which end to feed."
"I think Miss Hawthorne would make a fine little teacher."
"Think again, brother," Levi said in a terse tone.
"It strikes me, Levi, that at this time of the day I wouldn't normally find you at the stables, and yet here you are."
Jensen tugged the horse's lead rope impatiently toward the stables.
"Where are you going, Miss Hawthorne?" Levi asked.
"I'm going to take my curry comb and hoof pick into the peace and quiet of the stable. I don't think the horses will be nearly as entertained by my attire as you men." She shot the words over her shoulder as she sashayed away, exaggerating the sway of her slender hips. Smiling with satisfaction at having rendered them speechless, she disappeared into the dusky, cooling shelter of the stable.
***
"Ouch!" Jensen exclaimed as the boiling water of the small kettle splashed onto her wrist. It was a long, bumpy walk from the kitchen to the stables, but she knew a hot poultice of bran would be the best thing for the corns on the plow horse. Trying to absorb any sudden jolts with her body, Jensen walked cautiously down the path trying not to spill any more of the steaming contents. Proudly, she reached the stables without losing another drop, when the stable door opened into her, knocking her back several steps and sending a wave of hot water over her shins.
"Oh my goodness Jens, I'm so sorry!" Celia exclaimed, covering her mouth with one hand as she looked down at Jensen's wet pants and hurriedly pulling the sleeve of her chemise up over her shoulder with the other.
"What are you doing out here?" Jensen sighed in exasperation, as she shook the water from her legs. "I--I really don't have time to explain. If I don't get back to my chores, Maggie will have me scrubbing chamber pots for a week," Celia sputtered, as she lifted her skirt and dashed past Jensen without even a wave goodbye.
A wide-eyed Jensen watched Celia run. Bits of straw fell from her clothes and hair, leaving a small trail. Jensen shook her head, picked up the half full container, and carried it into the stable.
"Well, girl, let's see if we can't relieve some of those leg sores today," Jensen said to the dapple-gray Boulonnais behind the stall door. The docile mare nodded her elegant head as though in agreement. The skin on her neck twitched, vibrating her wavy, snow-white mane.
Jensen tethered the stout horse to a post in the center of the building where the light was better, and Eustacia could not be made nervous by the other horses. She poured enough bran into the much-cooled water to form a thick paste. It squeezed through her fingers like gritty mud as she pressed it onto the hard sores of the animal's front leg. She wrapped the leg tightly with strips of white linen, receiving a gentle snort of appreciation from Eustacia.
"Looks like you really know what you're doing," a deep voice echoed from the hayloft above, causing Jensen to bolt from her crouched position.
She looked up to see Malaton peering over the edge of the loft. His long, thick, straw-studded braid draped over his bare shoulder.
"That's twice you have startled me now, sir. For a moment there, I thought the horse was talking to me." She smiled. "Do you enjoy sneaking up on people," she continued, snatching up a comb for Eustacia's tangled mane.
With cat-like agility, Malaton leapt off the loft to the floor of the barn landing on his bare feet, scarcely disturbing the straw. "Once again, I apologize if I frightened you. It was not my intention," Malaton said with enough sincerity that Jensen accepted the apology with a nod.
"Mr. North seems quite impressed with your skills."
Jensen, blushing from the compliment, began vigorously brushing the broad sides of the horse as it casually nibbled at the remnants of fallen bran.
"Or," Malaton continued, "is it you that Mr. North is impressed with?"
"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about. Is there something you require of me, sir? If not, I have a great deal of work to do, and I would appreciate it if . . . ."
"Whoa, Whoa," Malaton said, raising his hands, "I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Hawthorne."
"I am not upset!" Jensen shrieked, stomping her foot on the ground. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. "I am not upset," she repeated quietly. As she tucked her hair behind her ears, she could feel the bran wedged under her fingernails. She flashed Malaton a forced smile. "If you'll excuse me, sir." She slid past him, untied the horse, and led it back to the stall.
After several, solitary hours of grooming horses, cleaning stalls, and checking hooves, Jensen could feel the dense, odor filled air of the barn close in around her. Thomas had been out reseeding grass in the pasture, and Jensen was fully in charge of the horses. Her back ached, and her throat was parched.
Once outside, she took shelter under the wide eaves of the barn. Not wanting to travel all the way back to t
he kitchen for lunch, she had packed a knapsack with red grapes, a cranberry scone, and a flask of fresh water. Savoring a sweet juicy grape in her mouth, she looked up to see a figure approaching in the distance. 'Here he comes again. Does that man have nothing better to do?' she thought as she watched Malaton walk toward her, obviously hiding something behind his back. Moments later, he stood before her, a mischievous grin taking over his face as he handed her a small bouquet of yellow wildflowers.
"Friends?" he asked shyly.
She took the bundle of weeds, sniffed them as though they were fragrant roses, and smiled back at his hopeful face.
"Friends," she said.
Taking the response as an invitation to join her, he sat down next to her and helped himself to a few grapes. "So, where did you learn so much about horses?"
"England," Jensen answered staring out to the pasture where the newborn colt bounded friskily behind its mother.
"England? You're a long way from home. What brought you to Virginia?"
"A ship," Jensen said sarcastically as she looked at him and then laughed.
He smiled, nodding his head. "Oh, I see, you'd rather not say. I didn't mean to pry."
"Look at that!" Malaton said excitedly, pointing toward the sky.
Jensen followed the path of his finger. A giant bird floated effortlessly over the pasture with a long, limp snake dangling from its treacherous talons. Jensen shivered at the sight of it, recalling the hideous snake Levi had beheaded on the trail to Moss Rose.
"That is one big hawk," Malaton commented. "Reminds me of Talib. He was big like that."
Jensen looked sidelong at him with raised eyebrows. "Talib? Don't tell me you kept a hawk as a pet."
"Me? Heck no." He sat silently for a moment scratching the ground with a stick. "Talib was Levi's hawk."
Jensen turned to him with amused surprise. "'Tis unusual enough to own a wolf as a pet, but a hawk?"
Malaton sat back watching the tiny speck that was the hawk. "When we were young, North and I would go into the woods and practice shooting and knife throwing. One spring, when we were about fifteen, we were real proud of these slingshots we'd carved out of wood. Got up early one morning and headed toward the mountains. We practiced all day, pelting rocks at trees and insects.
Moss Rose Page 11