by Kim Izzo
“Griff!” I said, clearly dismayed. “What are you doing here?”
“Kate?” he said, equally shocked.
We remained in our respective positions, like some kind of bizarre tableau, until finally I couldn’t take the silence and the rain any longer.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” I explained breathlessly. “I asked; Doris said you were gone. I’d have never come here if I’d known.”
“I was supposed to leave today but decided on a final ride before driving to London,” he explained. “But I can see I’ll have to delay it. What happened to you?”
“I fell off that stile thing and hurt my back.”
“I see,” he said as rain dripped off his hat and onto my forehead. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”
I thought back to our kiss and hesitated.
Griff smiled as if sensing my reticence. “Don’t be afraid,” he said smugly and extended his hand. “I won’t try and kiss you this time. You’re not really my type.”
“Very funny,” I scoffed. “Fine. I will grab you by the neck.”
“Good girl,” he said cheerfully. “Just don’t strangle me.”
Not until I’m safely at Penwick, I thought. I put my arms around his neck and he slowly hoisted me to my feet, but as soon as he let go my knees buckled and I grasped on to him. He caught me and held me tightly to his chest and there we stood, like marionettes waiting for the puppeteer.
“You’re awfully wet,” I said stupidly. The rain was letting up but we were both soaked through.
“It’s raining.”
“I’m freezing,” I said faintly and began to shake from the cold and the pain. I felt like vomiting. That’s what I needed, to puke all over Griff. Still, I must have looked pathetic because he was suddenly very caring and nice.
“I know a shortcut to Penwick, but we’ll have to take my horse,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I can’t, I’m terrified of horses!” I shrieked.
“You’re not going to ride him!” he barked. “I will lead him behind me. You can walk and use me as support.”
He leaned me up against the fence post as he retrieved his horse. The cold rain had dampened the animal’s warm coat so that steam poured off its flanks and its nostrils flared red. I’d never seen anything more frightening.
“He’s harmless, I assure you,” Griff said as he approached with the beast. “His name is Fred. He’s a very docile Friesian stallion.”
“Can’t I just wait here?” I said, shaking.
“No,” he said flatly. “You’re hurt, wet, and cold. Now, just shut up and let me rescue you. Put your arm around my neck and I’ll hold on to your waist.”
I shook my head.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“I don’t cry,” I said firmly.
He gripped me by the waist and I leaned on him. Fred walked on the other side of Griff, but I kept a close eye on him just in case.
“So, Scott is making an honest woman out of you?” he said after we’d taken a few steps in uncomfortable silence.
“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth. “He’s not here yet. I came ahead to make arrangements. He’s going to try and come on weekends. You don’t have to leave on our account.”
“I have no desire to see you marry the poor bloke, but thanks,” he said flatly.
“Fine,” I snapped. “You sound jealous!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
After we’d gone a bit farther he spoke again.
“Are you happy,” he asked. “Now that you’re set for life?”
“Yes,” I said resenting his tone.
“So why don’t you cry?”
“What?” I asked. Talk about a non sequitur.
“You said you didn’t cry. Why?”
I stared down at the ground, watching my black wellies trod the sodden grass. How did I want to answer that? I can’t cry? That I haven’t cried since my grandmother’s funeral and the house was lost? I shook my head and forced a smile.
“I’ll never tell.” I grinned, but then my foot snagged on one of those twisty roots and I screamed in pain again.
“Okay, that’s it,” he said impatiently. “How much do you weigh?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He looked me up and down. “Nine and a half stone?”
I glared at him. “What is that in pounds?”
“About one thirty-five.”
“I’m no such thing! I’m only a hundred and twenty pounds, thank you very much,” I snapped.
“Even better,” he said and tossed Fred’s reins over his shoulder. “Now, grab on.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to bloody well carry you,” he snapped.
“You aren’t strong enough,” I snapped back.
“Aren’t I?” With that he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms. “Light as a bloody feather. Comfortable?”
“Not really,” I said huffily. The positioning left much to be desired but it was easier than walking or standing, not that I would admit it to Griff.
“We’ll get you to Penwick, My Lady,” he said sarcastically. “Even if it kills me.”
I wanted to say something equally sarcastic in retaliation but didn’t have the strength. I felt faint and dizzy again. All I wanted was to lie down and be warm.
31.
On the Mend
I’m not romantic, you know. I never was. I ask only a comfortable home.
—Pride and Prejudice
I was so relieved to finally see Penwick poking through the gloom. But we must have been quite the sight as Herbert rushed over without letting go of his spade and took Fred. I could feel Griff staggering beneath the weight of me. It was true, I did weigh one hundred thirty-five pounds. Actually, it was closer to one hundred forty pounds, depending on the day, but I was never going to admit it. The front door was within reach but I was dismayed when he turned and went toward the back of the manor.
“Servants entrance?” I asked with mock derision. “I am a guest, you know.”
“But I am not,” he answered flatly. “And this is the fastest way to the kitchen.”
“Kitchen? I’ve had lunch, thank you.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re soaked through. There’s always heat on in the kitchen.”
We burst through the door and he dropped me on a Victorian chaise. “Ouch! Jesus!” I yelped.
“I meant that to be gentler,” he said.
“Well, you failed,” I answered icily. We both stared at each other in silence, unsure of what to do next.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said as warmly as I could.
“You should probably get out of those clothes,” he said uncomfortably.
I slid up into a quasiseated position. “I think I can handle that on my own.”
“Quite right,” he answered. “I will go find Doris. She may be able to help.”
Doris was helpful. She brought me a thick terry robe and some slippers and led the way to the great room, both of us stooped and shuffling, where Herbert had lighted the giant stone fireplace. Two wingback chairs and an overstuffed velvet sofa were strategically placed for maximum warmth near the fire.
“Thanks, Doris,” I said softly. “Can I get changed in here?”
“Of course,” she said. “Do you need help?”
I did, but was too shy for that sort of help. “I’ll manage, thanks.”
After the door closed, I tried to remove my wellies but the pain was too much. I shook off my coat and peeled my long turtleneck from my back and arms. I had just slid out of my bra when there was a knock and the door swung open. I quickly clutched the bathrobe to my breasts.
It was Griff. Seeing my state of undress, he averted his eyes. “Pardon me, I didn’t realize you were … I thought Doris was in here.”
“You’re supposed to knock first, then wait for an answer.” I glared at him. “You don’t just barge i
n like you own the place! Now turn around so I can get into my robe.”
He did as he was told. I saw that he was carrying an armful of towels.
“What are those?”
“Hot towels. I had them sitting on the Aga for you,” he said loudly, as though with his back to me I couldn’t hear him. “May I turn around now?”
“Yes,” I said and couldn’t help smiling. “That was very nice of you.”
He turned and handed me the towels and, seeing my expression, he smiled also. Then we both giggled like schoolchildren.
“I suppose I should turn around again so you can wrap yourself up?”
“I think that would be a good idea,” I said. After he turned, I removed the robe and wrapped myself in one of the towels. It was as soothing as a cup of tea. But with my jeans and boots still stuck to my skin, true comfort eluded me. There was only one solution.
“Griff,” I said imploringly. “Can you please pull off my boots? I can’t do it on my own and I can’t get warm with these soaking wet jeans on.”
He slowly turned and walked toward me. The fire crackled loudly. I shivered and my lower lip began to tremble from the damp chill that had penetrated my bones, but also from an unexpected nervousness. My reaction startled me. I had forced Griff from my mind weeks ago, but he was stirring things up that I had thought were buried for good.
“You’d best hang on to the chair,” he directed. I grabbed the chair and slowly, carefully, he twisted and pulled until each boot was off.
“Are you all right to take off your jeans?” he asked.
I nodded. He went to leave.
“Don’t go,” I said, startled by the urgency in my voice. “Just in case I need you,” I quickly added.
“I’ll keep my back to you once again,” he said and didn’t take another step.
I somehow managed to slither out of my wet jeans, which was no easy feat. Once they were off, I grabbed the remaining towel and wrapped it around my naked body. I should have slipped back into the robe immediately but instead I found myself uttering the words: “You can turn around now.”
He did as he was told. I stood there and smiled, wearing only a towel, my hair wet and not a stitch of makeup on. It was his turn to be frozen to the ground. I didn’t understand why I was behaving this way. I was engaged to Scott. Griff had taken care of me. I was grateful for that. Maybe that was what I was feeling; gratitude, that must be it.
“Thank you for the towels,” I said. “When I was little my grandmother would warm towels in the oven and wrap us up in them after our bath.”
“I think you should try the dressing gown, too,” he offered and held it up for me. “I won’t look.”
He shut his eyes. I let the towels drop to the floor so that he knew I was naked. But as I stepped into the bathrobe my back went into spasms again and I yelped in pain before falling backward. I clung on to the chair while managing to wrap the robe around myself so he couldn’t glimpse my naked body. He opened his eyes and rushed over to ease me into the chair.
“Thank you,” I said through the pain. If I had been attempting a seduction it would have been a laughable effort.
“You need some muscle relaxants,” he offered. “I’ll ring our local GP and see what he can offer you.”
“That would be great.” I forced a smile. “I can’t exactly walk down the aisle like this.”
“We have walking sticks,” he said. “Quite nice ones.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” I grinned. Then I paused. “No really, Griff, thank you.”
“Helping a damsel in distress, especially one who is paying to be here, is part of my job.”
I nodded slowly, not appreciating the implication that I had bought his kindness. “So, you’re heading out to London now?” I asked, fighting off a feeling of disappointment.
“It’s too late for today.” He smiled. “I may go tomorrow. But I’ll check in on you later, if you like.”
“I’d like that,” I stammered. “Oh, can you please ask Doris to get my cell phone? It’s on the dresser in my room.”
When he’d left I felt a twinge of regret. How ridiculous! I was merely reacting to the pain and was thankful that Griff was there when I needed him. There was nothing more to it. I had to stop thinking of Griffith Saunderson and call Scott to tell him what happened.
“If I’d known he was here I wouldn’t have come,” I told Clive and Emma. They had driven up as planned the following day. I had told them all about my accident and my rescue.
“Bollocks,” Emma teased. “You’ve been obsessed with Jane Austen all your life. This is your dream location and you know it. Though in this weather it looks more like Manderley than Pemberley.”
We all nodded in agreement.
“Besides, what does it matter if Griff is at your wedding?”
“It doesn’t really,” I said vaguely. Though the truth was it did matter. It mattered very much to me that my attraction to Griff had only intensified since I’d been at Penwick. But I wasn’t about to confess it to anyone.
After our visit, I took one of the walking sticks that Griff had left for me and went for a stroll. The doctor had prescribed drugs and they had taken the edge off the pain, but he had warned that it would take a couple of weeks for me to be 100 percent. It was no wonder I was in a foul mood. But it wasn’t only my pain, or impending wedding that had me irritated. It was also my fiancé. Scott had been sympathetic but hadn’t offered to drop whatever wheeling and dealing he was doing to help me or see that I was in one piece.
“You’ll be fine,” he had said. “Take the meds and a martini, while you’re at it. That will kill the pain!” He had laughed. I had not.
As I ambled along, I was so deep in thought that I found myself in the stable yard without realizing I’d been walking in its direction.
“Hello there,” Griff called out. “Nice to see you up and about.”
“Thank you,” I said and hobbled over. He was saddling up a horse. It snorted and I took a step back.
“You really are afraid of horses,” he said with a look of astonishment.
“Petrified,” I admitted. “They hate me.”
“Horses don’t hate anyone,” he said and led the animal past me and into a riding ring. I limped after him and leaned on the railing. “They are the noblest creatures,” he said earnestly. “You know where you stand with them.”
“Yes, at least twenty paces back,” I joked. He didn’t laugh. He seemed disappointed and I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t like him thinking less of me. “What do you like about them?”
“Aside from their strength of character and physical beauty?” He smiled. “I like that they trust me enough to let me ride them. That they work with me and we create harmony, a partnership, a relationship of mutual respect.”
“Sounds nice,” I admitted.
Griff tightened the girth and ran the stirrups down, then looked at me with a sly grin. “Why don’t you try it?”
I shook my head. “No way, I’m already crippled.”
“Ah, but you see, it’s great therapy for a sore back,” he said.
“I don’t believe you,” I answered. “I have a starring role in my wedding. I can’t take the risk.”
“Sounds like you can’t risk not riding,” he said and led the horse toward a wooden step in the center of the ring. “You sit on this horse every day and just walk around and it will loosen your back and undo all those knots.”
“Are you serious?” I asked desperately.
“I will hold the reins the entire time. You don’t have to be afraid,” he said convincingly. “I’ll take care of you.”
I was no horse, so trusting a man didn’t come easily to me. But I had to try something. I took a deep breath and stepped into the ring, walking slowly toward the horse with my cane. The horse looked askance at the walking stick and I stopped.
“Does he think I have a weapon?” I asked nervously.
“Horses aren’t used to seeing a person
with three legs,” Griff said cheerfully. “That’s what it looks like to them.”
I smiled and walked closer, but as I got within reach I felt my legs shake with fear. “I can’t,” I stammered. “I’m too afraid.”
Griff stepped toward me and took my hand. His skin was soft but his touch was strong, masculine. He held my hand the final steps until we were standing beside it.
“You just need confidence,” he said soothingly. “Horses know when you’re nervous and they can take advantage.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” I snapped.
“Shush. I’m talking,” he snapped back. “If you behave in a calm, assertive manner they will have confidence in you and respect you. It’s no different to how you behave with people.”
“I can be assertive,” I said sulkily.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “But can you be calm and confident?”
“I am confident!” I said and yanked my hand from his.
“Really?” he said unsmiling. “You strike me as a beautiful woman who lacks confidence and instead relies on sarcasm and fashionable clothes to give you the appearance of it.”
I stood there, anger and frustration welling up inside, unsure of what to say, no doubt because on some level I knew he was right.
“You’re forty years old,” he continued. “It’s time you overcame your fears.”
“You really are something,” I said and was about to make a brisk exit when my walking stick snagged on a rock and I tripped. Once again, Griff was there to catch me. He held me, folded over his arm like a sack of grain. It was the closest I’d come to crying since my grandmother had died. The pain, the pressure of the wedding, and the humiliation of my horse phobia were overwhelming. I managed to stand again and tried to shove him away but he held on firmly. I thumped his chest with my fist. “Who are you to suggest I’m insecure?” I said angrily.
“Come on, Kate,” he said gently and relaxed his grip. “I wasn’t trying to offend you.”