But of course, he was.
As easily as if he were plucking lint off his coat, the man whacked the beam with his hammer and it popped out from under the rock. The beam clattered free, and he merely had to stoop a bit to push it out of the way for her sheep. The gate was open and her sheep could be saved.
The man glowered in his achievement, and for a moment Seraphina stared in pure appreciation for his power. She gathered her wits after a moment, though, and had the good sense to whistle for Tess. Immediately the dog responded and was rounding the sheep to direct them toward the opening in the wall. No sheep would be swept away by flood waters today, thankfully.
The man made a grand bow toward Seraphina then stepped aside as Tess drove the sheep up the bank and through the narrow gateway. A wide, dry hillside lay out before them even as the wind whipped up. Another clap of thunder sounded and Seraphina noticed the first splattering of raindrops. She jumped, but the sheep reacted only slightly. Tess had them firmly in her control as they funneled toward safety.
"Thank you, sir," Seraphina said finally when the last of her small flock ambled past.
"You're welcome," he replied, waiting for her to follow the sheep.
Once she and her flock were safe, he hoisted the beam to wedge it back in the rocks to prevent the sheep from retracing their steps. He was left standing outside the pasture while Sereaphina was on the inside. It was a comfortable arrangement.
"Now we can both continue to our destinations before the rain sets in," she said with relief.
It was short-lived, though. A quick glance up the road showed that the man's chances of reaching his destination were suddenly greatly diminished. His horse was gone.
Oh no! The poor animal must have spooked and run off. With all the sound of the storm and the sheep, neither of them had noticed. The man was stranded, horseless. It had been a fine looking Thoroughbred, too, probably bred for speed and for stamina. With the storm pounding around them, not only was the man in trouble, but the horse would be, as well.
The man must have noticed the problem at the same time she did. He growled low.
"Shit."
"It seems your horse has run off," she said for no other reason than to drown out his curses. Her plan did not work.
"By damnation, he surely did. I daresay your blasted dog sent him into panic."
Well, that was unfair. All her thoughts of gratitude toward the man evaporated as he blamed her poor hard-working collie for his lapse in judgment. She forgot her fear of him long enough to climb back over the beam and wag a finger in his face.
"My dog scared him? What of the weather, or you leaving him alone in the middle of a road? You should have thought about that before you strolled over here to show off your ability to swing a hammer."
She had hoped her reference to his familiarity with hand tools might be rather an insult. Apparently it was not.
"There is no doubt of my ability," he said, swiping away her accusation. "Most women I've encountered tend to appreciate my competence with... hammering."
She rolled her eyes so dramatically that she nearly became dizzy.
"Well I would appreciate if you'd go find your horse and allow me to be on my way with my sheep."
"He could be a mile away by now," he grumbled. "How on earth am I supposed to―"
Lightning ripped through the sky, booming with thunder that interrupted his complaint. Seraphina jumped, feeling the air crackle around them. Even her proud, sturdy companion seemed to have an involuntary reaction. The storm was upon them and by heavens, if they didn't wish to be incinerated by lightning they'd have to get out of the open. Quickly.
Fearing for her flock, Seraphina glanced up to see Tess driving the sheep at full speed toward the safety of an old stone shelter built into the hillside. Clever dog.
"Come on," she called to the man. "If we hurry we can get under roof before we're both soaked."
"Not without Thunder," he replied gruffly.
She was momentarily confused―after all, wasn't thunder what they were trying to get away from? Then she realized his horse must be named Thunder. Rather ironic, considering that the poor creature had been terrorized by his own namesake.
The man was most adamant. "I've got to find him."
Seraphina admired his selfless concern for the animal, but she had to admit it seemed a daunting task. How was he to find the horse, let alone catch it and calm it during what was escalating into a powerful storm?
"If he follows the road he'll no doubt come to one of the farms you passed on your way," she said. "I'm sure he'll find shelter there. Come, it's dangerous out here in the open."
To punctuate her words, another bright flash of lightning that sizzled around them, accompanied by its furious clap of thunder. In the distance, the loud shriek of an animal sent shivers up her spine. The horse.
"Thunder!" the man called, jumping down into the roadway and trotting off in the direction his mount had gone.
Not thinking, Seraphina clambered down the bank and took off after him. With his long legs he easily outdistanced her, but when he stopped suddenly she crashed unceremoniously into his back. Such a hard, solid back it was, too. How mortifying! What had he been thinking to stop like that? She would have roundly scolded him, if not for the sound of rapidly approaching hoof beats that caught her attention.
Peering around the man, she saw the huge, dark form of his stallion tearing around a bend in the road, racing toward them at full gallop. He appeared unharmed despite the shrill scream they had heard. The most recent thunderclap must have spooked him again and caused him to drastically change course. Now he was bearing down on them, his black main and tail whipping in the wind and his ears flat against his head.
The road was very narrow and the banks rose up on either side. How could they get out of the way in time to avoid being trampled? Seraphina cried out.
The man was fast. He swept his arm back to grab her, then pulled her in toward his body, dragging her off to the side of the road and pressing her up against the dirt and the grass of the bank. She was pinned between him and the wall, but his action saved them both. They were out of the way as his horse thundered by, puffing in terror and charging blindly past the master who had been in such control over him just minutes ago.
Seraphina blinked as wind and dirt temporarily blinded her. When her vision was finally clear she found herself gazing into the man's icy blue eyes. He held her there several moments longer than necessary. She wanted to believe that if she'd been able to catch her breath, she would have fought against him. Certainly she would have, but fortunately she didn't need to.
He released her. Instantly, it seemed she was forgotten as he turned to chase after his horse, calling its name in deep, commanding tones. Seraphina was still trying to find air to breathe when she stepped back into the road to watch the horse easily sail up the bank and over the beam into the pasture where she had just sent her sheep.
The man ran behind, his own pace nearly as impressive as the thoroughbred's. Seraphina gathered up her skirts and dashed along behind them. And to think, she'd complained to Papa more than once that life here in Nottinghamshire was far too dull.
Thorston tried to get Thunder's attention, calling after the horse even as the distance between them grew. The low walls around this pasture might be enough to discourage sheep from straying, but they would hardly be enough to contain a terrified Thoroughbred. Thorston's commands were going unheeded, though. Fear had taken over the poor animal and he was running on instinct, not training. It seemed nothing Thorston did could help him.
A loud whistle pierced the blustery air. In an instant the whistle sounded again and Thorston realized it was coming from behind him. He paused to turn and saw that the young woman was standing at the gate, whistling into the wind.
It seemed a ridiculous thing until he hear the answering yelp of the dog that had herded the sheep. The woman wasn't simply whistling, she was sending direction to her dog. Sure enough, somehow the pa
ttern and tones of her whistles brought the dog back into view.
The collie made a wide arc over the hillside and raced toward Thunder. The burst of speed was amazing and in no time the dog had positioned itself to intercept the flying horse. Thunder was startled and for the first time his pace faltered. As he moved to change direction, the dog reacted instantly, blocking his way.
Confused and exhausted, Thunder stopped in his tracks. The dog dropped low to the ground, its eyes fixed on the horse and its tail wagging with excitement. The woman gave a couple short whistles that must have instructed the dog to hold its ground. Thunder stamped and snorted, but for the first time his ears flicked when Thorston called to him.
Rain was falling steadily now but for a brief moment thunder and lightning abated. Wind still tossed wildly, but Thorston was able to keep his steed's attention as he moved toward him with long, easy steps. The dog stayed in position, crouched low, but every muscle on alert.
Finally Thorston was able to grasp his mount's halter, pat his lathered hide and soothe him with comforting words. He could feel the tension radiate from the animal's body, but at least there was hope of getting him to shelter now.
A couple more signals sounded from the woman and Thorston glanced across the pasture to see her approaching. She was doing her best not to make any sudden movements, although the wind was having its way with her skirts and her hair. She waved at him and pointed toward a building built into the hillside.
Hiding from a storm in a barn with a flock of nervous sheep and a terrified horse didn't seem particularly appealing, but Thorston knew they had no other options. Every minute they stood here in the pasture put them in greater danger. At the next loud burst, Thunder could spook and there was no way Thorston would be able to hold him.
"Go!" the woman shouted, motioning toward the barn.
Of course it was the sensible thing to do, Thorston realized that. But what of her? She was still a good distance away and would be left out here alone if he ran on ahead. That just didn't seem right. Thorston tightened his grip on the halter and murmured into Thunder's ear, hoping to keep him calm for just a few more minutes. The steadfast dog provided its own form of comfort, remaining silent, still, and low to the ground despite the rain that beat down on them all.
At last the woman was within speaking distance. She held her skirts as still as possible in the windy conditions, possibly for modesty and possibly to keep from startling the horse. Her golden hair had escaped her wilted straw bonnet and danced in damp curls over her shoulders. A splash of freckles had become visible over her nose and her cheeks were rosy from the chill.
"Take him into the shelter," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "What are you waiting for?"
"You," he replied, although it should have been obvious.
"Oh. Well, come along then."
The sky rumbled and Thorston was happy to let the woman lead the way to the shelter. She sent her dog on ahead, most likely to maintain order among the sheep, and Thunder went willingly once he realized they were heading to safety. Thorston divided his attention between his horse and the swaying motion of the very feminine figure ahead of them. She wore a pelisse over her dress and these articles clung to her form, wet from rain. He wondered how long before the damp would soak all the way through to her petticoats.
Not that her petticoats were any of his business, of course. He tried to tell himself that they passed through his mind merely because he worried for her wellbeing. He was a gentleman, after all.
"In here," she said at the doorway into the shelter.
Thorston held Thunder's head to steady him as they passed under the low threshold. Light came through the door and two windows in the front of the barn, but the interior was dim. The dog had pushed the sheep into a corner and seemed content to hold them there. They jostled and bleated softly, adding to Thunder's anxiety, but Thorston spotted a secure spot in an opposite corner. Rough-hewn timbers had been built to form two separate stalls and with gentle coaxing he got Thunder inside one of them.
He could finally breath in relief. They were safe from the lightning, and out of the wind and rain. Of course, the air inside was nearly as damp as the outside. Thorston couldn't relax yet. He'd been traveling all day, keeping Thunder to a brisk pace. Not only was the horse winded from work, now the poor creature was dripping with rain and wild-eyed with nerves. In this state, a chill was likely to set in and cause no end of ill effects.
Thorston had to dry his animal quickly. He began looking around for a cloth or even clean straw to rub the horse down, but this was certainly not a stable and nothing like that was on hand. Thunder would suffer unless some suitable material could be found for drying the beast.
Thorston's eye fell on the young woman. She was working at her disheveled hair, tucking and primping in some vain attempt to bundle it back under her bonnet. The effort was futile, given the sad state of her bonnet. What truly caught Thorston's attention, though, was the woman's apparel―the many layers of it.
She looked up, noticing his gaze.
"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
Nothing was wrong. Thorston knew exactly what he needed to make everything right. He looked her square in the eye.
"Take off your petticoat."
Chapter 3
"I beg your pardon?" Seraphina snorted.
She wasn't certain she had heard him correctly. Surely the man hadn't asked her to remove her... but what else could he have said? She wasn't certain she'd ever heard a man utter the word "petticoat," but it truly sounded as if this one had. Of course the sheep were bleating, the wind was howling, and the horse was stamping his discontent. Perhaps in all of the din she had misheard. That had to be the explanation.
"Your petticoat," the man repeated, erasing her doubt. "I need you to take it off."
She hadn't misheard. He really was speaking of her underclothes! And demanding she take them off, apparently.
Well, she most certainly would be keeping them on. What had she been thinking, to accept help from a stranger then take shelter alone with him in this forgotten hole? He presented himself as a gentleman, but clearly he was not.
"I will not take off anything for you, sir," she announced firmly. "I'd much rather take my chances outside against the elements."
"But it's a typhoon out there," he said, as if shocked to think she might prefer that over him.
She made it to the doorway and whistled for Tess. They were leaving. Hopefully the man could be trusted with sheep, but there was no way Seraphina would remain in his company. Nor would she trust him with her dog; Tess would be going with her. How foolish she was to have misjudged him.
"Wait," he called. "I think you misunderstood."
She paused, the tiny flicker of hope that perhaps she had heard him wrong. Perhaps he wasn't the ogre she'd painted him to be.
"I don't want you to remove your clothing for me," he declared. "It's for my horse."
His words were so absurd that all she could do was turn and stare dumbly at him.
"Did you say your horse? Your horse wants my petticoat? I'm appalled to even try to comprehend your reasoning for that."
The man pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his damp, golden hair. Seraphina tried not to watch. How could his eyes still be so bright even in the darkness of this in-ground shelter? Especially as his heart was so black.
"Forgive me," he said. "I have not made my intentions plain."
"Oh, they are very plain, sir. You―and your horse―wish to part me from my clothing."
"Certainly not!"
"Did you not just ask me to remove my petticoat and then claimed it was at the whim of your horse?"
"Er, yes, it does sound unseemly when you put it that way, but I assure you I meant no disrespect."
"Well that is a relief, to be sure." She made certain her voice dripped with the distain she felt for him. And for his whimsical horse. "Since you're so respectable, I suppose you'd like me to pour tea while I disrobe? So
rry to be a disappointment. Good day sir."
Instead of disappointing him, though, she seemed merely to have been annoying. His brow furrowed and he raised his voice when he spoke.
"Now see here! You have a sharp tongue, miss, and you are quick to jump to some very, very inappropriate conclusions. Before you gallantly throw yourself out into the storm, take one moment to hear me."
Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a gust of wind blew cold rain through the doorway. It pelted her and sent a shiver down her spine. To be honest, she did not relish the notion of going back out into that. Tess crouched at her side, inching away from the door. Perhaps the man could offer an explanation that might convince her to remain safely inside the shelter. It was doubtful, but she was inclined to let him try.
Crossing her arms defiantly, she gave him a curt nod. "You have half a moment, sir. Explain yourself."
He was safely several strides away from her, standing at the stall soothing his nervous Thoroughbred. It was clearly more than half a moment before he continued, but Seraphina granted him leeway. She could still escape if needed, but for now she was safe. To be honest, a great part of her was hugely curious to hear what he might say.
"I'm worried for Thunder, my horse," he said, apparently confirming his concern for the creature by actually nuzzling him. "He's had a long day and if I can't find something to dry him, his health could be compromised."
Seraphina weighed his words, considering the possibility of any of them being truth. "You want to use my petticoat to dry off your horse?"
"Precisely. You see? There is nothing sinister at play here."
"Except that you want to use my petticoat to dry off your horse."
"Because it's dry and protected under your layers of skirts and pelisse."
"And that's exactly how it will remain, as a matter of fact."
The Marquis of Thunder (Heart of a Hero) Page 2