A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  Once the room was clean, Letty had then set about rearranging it to make it look pleasing. After hunting under the dust covers in the adjacent rooms, she had found more furniture which suited the main room. Now, the worn chairs favoured by the brothers were covered in soft throws and cushions she had salvaged and she had added another chair for herself, as well as a low footstool and some well-positioned extra candlesticks. If she said so herself, it was a vast improvement on what it had been before. The only thing missing was a cheerful bunch of flowers—and she sincerely doubted she could summon one of those at will. A house which could not afford servants would hardly have its own hothouse. But perhaps some branches of holly and some cheerful winter berries would not go amiss?

  A quick dash upstairs to rummage in the trunk of old clothes and she procured a pair of lady’s walking boots. They were a bit big—Mrs Warriner was clearly built in a sturdier fashion than Letty—but she padded them out with an extra pair of thick woollen stockings, then headed to the back door through the kitchen, clasping a pair of lethal-looking shears she had found.

  Leaves and flowers were homely and Markham Manor could do with a lift. Letty pulled on a heavy greatcoat which was hanging on a peg by the door and clomped out. The crisp fresh air was a welcome change from being stuck inside. Even the rain was refreshing. For several seconds she simply stood and enjoyed it all before she went hunting for foliage to complete her masterpiece.

  Finding holly in the early evening darkness proved to be more of a challenge than she had first anticipated, meaning she had to trudge further from the house than she’d intended. Eventually, she found some and began snipping away with the shears until movement in the distance caught her eye.

  Initially, Letty was scared and darted behind the bush in case it was somebody sinister looking for her, but the more she watched the lone figure, the more convinced she was that it was Jack. There was something about the way he held himself, the long, sure strides, the broad shoulders, the strange attraction which pulled her to only him rather than any of his three brothers.

  Letty owed him an apology and the chance to do it in private, rather than in front of an audience of his brothers, was too appealing an opportunity to miss.

  * * *

  Jack kicked open the barn door and set about breaking up the bale of hay and distributing it amongst the horses. He never heard her behind him until it was too late.

  ‘Hello, Jack.’

  At the soft sound of her voice he instantly stiffened, but did not turn around. Looking at Letty made him want her and he was still embarrassed at her obvious reaction to his failings. ‘You shouldn’t be outside.’

  ‘It’s getting dark and nobody can see me. I wanted to apologise for what I said earlier.’

  ‘There is no need.’ He didn’t need her well-meaning pity either. He would rather pretend it hadn’t happened. ‘It was a misunderstanding.’ Jack busied himself by refilling the water troughs from the big barrel in the corner and hoped she would go away and stop dredging the sorry episode up. Unfortunately, he heard her move to stand next to him.

  ‘It was a misunderstanding—but that does not excuse my thoughtlessness. Without meaning to, I insulted you. I feel dreadful, if it’s any consolation.’ It wasn’t. ‘You must think me very spoiled.’ He did. ‘After everything you have done for me, I am heartily ashamed of myself.’

  Jack really did not want to look at her, but his eyes strayed towards her anyway. She certainly looked like the dictionary definition of remorse. Her face was downcast, her delicate shoulders slumped and her lovely eyes were troubled. Even as he fought it, she plucked at his heartstrings. ‘It really doesn’t matter, Letty. I am over it.’ And now he was lying to make her feel better.

  ‘Still, I should like to make it up to you.’

  His teeth ground together unconsciously in protest. ‘For the last time, I do not want your money, Letty...’

  ‘I know that. I also would not insult you by offering it again. But I can help in other ways. I have already started on the nooks and crannies.’ The corners of her plump mouth curved up into a nervous smile. ‘Although I have only done one room so far.’

  Jack experienced a rush of guilt. ‘I never really intended for you to do the cleaning.’ She shouldn’t have to debase herself like that, especially after everything she had gone through. It was not as if she was responsible for the mess. He was.

  ‘I quite enjoyed it, actually. I had a sense of purpose which has been missing this last week. You have no idea how mind-numbingly boring staying in bed is.’

  Her open smile made him feel a little better. She was trying to smooth things over, therefore, he should meet her halfway. ‘I should like to try it one day. A whole day of doing absolutely nothing appeals to me.’ Why was he ruining a perfectly nice moment by complaining about his lot?

  ‘Spoken like a man who would rather do everything himself instead of delegating. I get the impression you do far more than your fair share, Jack.’ She gazed around the barn and noticed the hay bale he had brought. ‘Why don’t I help you now? You will be finished more quickly if both of us do it.’

  Her assessment of his character followed by her offer to assist surprised him. Instantly he refused it. ‘There is no need. I can manage.’ Letty simply grinned and ignored him. She had discarded her lamp and branches and was pulling huge clumps of hay from the bale before he had finished his sentence, positively throwing herself into the task. Clearly she did not realise how dirty one could get in the company of horses. ‘Try to avoid the end without a head on. Horses can be...unpredictable at times.’

  Her laughter was not the tinkling sort he imagined normally issued from gently bred ladies. It was a throaty giggle accompanied by the occasional snort. It sounded positively naughty. God help him.

  ‘What a gentlemanly way of putting it, Jack. But I am used to the unpredictability of animals. My horse has no manners at all. He is ruthlessly unpredictable at every available opportunity.’ Methodically she distributed the hay as if she fed animals all of the time.

  ‘You ride?’

  ‘Like a hellion, I am told. I particularly like fast and fearsome horses like this fine chap.’ She reached up to stroke the muzzle of Jamie’s temperamental black stallion.

  ‘Satan doesn’t like to be stroked,’ Jack said quickly.

  Letty smiled and ignored the warning, and for once the troublesome horse appeared to welcome the attention, pushing his big head against her open palm like the biggest of flirts. ‘You poor thing,’ she crooned, ‘What did you do to deserve such a horrible name? You’re a sweetie, Satan, aren’t you?’

  In Jack’s experience, the horse most definitely was nothing of the sort. ‘Usually, the only human he allows near him is Jamie and even then he barely tolerates him. Jamie brought him home from the Peninsula with him. When I say brought him home, it would probably be more accurate to say that he stole him. The horse gave him so much trouble, he called it Satan, but despite all that Jamie still kept him.’

  ‘I can’t say I blame him. You are such a handsome boy, Satan, aren’t you?’ To Jack’s amazement she then kissed the tip of the animal’s nose before stepping away. It was a sorry state of affairs when a man found himself jealous of a horse. ‘I bet he is very fast.’

  ‘He is. Dangerously so. Jacob tried to ride him when Jamie first came home and Satan threw him in a ditch. We didn’t see the horse for hours afterwards, not that Jamie was concerned. He simply shrugged and said Satan would come back when he was good and ready. And he did as well. Wandered back into the barn eventually as if nothing was amiss.’

  ‘Do you think Jamie would let me ride him?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s down to Jamie. Satan can be particular. He’s a one-rider-only sort of chap. I doubt he would make exceptions, even for a hellion.’

  ‘My mother used to tell me off for riding with reckle
ss abandon and then she would tell my father off worse for encouraging me.’ Her lovely face clouded at the memory.

  ‘You were close to your parents then?’ Now there was something he had no concept of. He had never understood his, let alone been close to them. Neither his mother nor his father had wanted much to do with their offspring.

  ‘Indeed I was. It was always just the three of us. Until it wasn’t. I miss them dreadfully.’

  She had brought them up, so Jack decided she probably didn’t mind talking about them. ‘You said they died in an accident—how old were you when it happened?’ He returned the water bucket to its proper place at the same moment she brushed the last of the hay from her hands.

  ‘Seventeen,’ she said without hesitation, ‘Far too early to be without any parents—especially a mother. But I suppose you would understand how devastating that is. Jacob told me you were all still children when your mother passed away.’

  ‘He was seven, I was fourteen.’ Except he hadn’t really had the opportunity to be devastated. His three younger brothers had needed a buffer between them and their father’s belt strap, just as his mother had needed one from his father’s drunken fists. Not that she had ever been grateful for his interference or tended to his bruises afterwards.

  ‘You were even younger than I, then. How did she die?’

  Years of being the wife of a Warriner, estranged from her family and all good society, the harsh realities of her isolation and the constant poverty had driven her to do the unthinkable. ‘Suicide. She drowned herself in the river.’ It had been swollen and raging after a week of storms, just as it was now, so she had jumped in on purpose without a backward glance because she mourned the life she had lost and could never regain.

  Jack still hadn’t fully forgiven her for leaving them, when they had loved her even though she could barely look upon them without seeing the face of her hated husband. The man who had compromised her into marriage to get her dowry and then had them chased out of London because of his mounting debts. Lord only knew what had happened to the dowry, but Jack doubted it went on anything sensible. Letty’s face was filled with pity. ‘And before you ask, my father followed her into the ground seven years later. He was fond of the bottle.’ Why was he telling her that? Although it was hardly a secret. Being drunk was one of the few things his father had done well, to the detriment of everything else, and for some inextricable reason Jack had wanted to tell her because she appeared to care.

  Letty stared at him for a long time, her golden head tilted to one side as she considered what he had unintentionally confessed. Where he thought he might see horror, or judgement, he saw only sympathy. ‘Oh, Jack,’ she said at last, with a sigh, ‘now I understand why your brothers all look up to you so. You have had to be both a mother and a father to them all these years. And run this estate. What a lot to take on.’ She smoothed her hand down his arm almost affectionately. He felt the touch everywhere. ‘You should be proud. You have done an excellent job of it. Your three brothers are all good men.’

  If he had been expecting a compliment, or an affectionate touch, he might have had a glib answer ready for her. Instead, he experienced a rush of gratitude so acute it caused a lump in his throat. Nobody had sympathy for a Warriner, not usually, which made Letty’s reaction all the more special. He dipped his head to avoid her gaze and tried to change the subject.

  ‘Why have you been picking holly? Surely it is a bit early to be making garlands for Christmas?’

  She shook her head, the motion causing one damp corkscrew curl to bounce enticingly over one eye as she grinned. ‘I thought I would make a pretty arrangement for the drawing room. A homely touch to cheer you all—perhaps it might even raise a smile from Jamie.’

  The curl bounced again, tempting him. Unconsciously, Jack reached out and tucked it behind her ear, his fingers grazing the silky, soft skin of her cheek in the process and she smiled up at him. More words tumbled out unchecked.

  ‘Sometimes it is difficult to know exactly what Jamie is thinking. Since his return home, his withdrawal worries me. I wish I knew what to do to fix it.’ And there he went again, telling her things which he did not share with his family. Confiding in her. Letty Dunston was doing strange things to his heart.

  ‘Perhaps you cannot simply fix it. I suspect Jamie needs time to come to terms with his experience of war himself before he can explain it to you. Give him time to heal mentally as well as physically. All grief heals eventually.’

  ‘Maybe. It is hard to simply stand by and watch.’

  ‘Why? Because you are used to being the one in control of everything?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  His fingers were still playing with the soft curls by her ear, lingering too long on her skin until he realised he was beaming back at her like a besotted idiot, something he was quite sure she was used to, but not something he ever did. Jack dropped his hand as though he’d been burnt and quickly turned back to finish his work. He really had no right to touch her like that, no matter how easy he found it to confess things to her, and quickly quashed the overwhelming urge to touch her again. The girl was trouble he did not need. Another unwelcome, unwanted responsibility. One who was only biding her time here until she could return to her splendid life and her fancy Duke, and one who certainly would not be impressed by his overwhelming attraction to her.

  She stood waiting silently as he blew out the lamps in the barn, a task he instantly regretted the moment he turned around. The soft glow from the lantern in her hand cast her in an ethereal light which made her look just like an angel. Once again, she took his breath away and he could think of nothing to say to relieve the wave of desire which suddenly swamped him. Her beauty and his spellbound reaction to it almost made him physically flinch.

  ‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ he said abruptly. Standing alone with her, here in the dark, was foolhardy. If he was not careful, she would know he was attracted to her and he would spill out all of his troubles, and that would never do. Then she really would pity him, poor, unworthy pauper that he was, and he would look completely pathetic. It was far better she thought he saw her as a great inconvenience rather than the greatest of temptations. ‘We should go.’

  With brisker efficiency than he felt, Jack led the way out of the barn and secured the heavy door. They walked a few yards in painfully awkward silence while he racked his brains for something—anything—sensible to say which did not make him appear to be the lustful, uncivilised nobody he had a frequent tendency to feel around her.

  ‘It’s been raining for days.’ Good grief! Was that really the best that he could do? Only the dullest of fellows talked about the weather. ‘I am worried the river will flood.’ And now he was burdening her with more of his problems, as if she would care about something so...mundane and beneath her.

  ‘I suppose a flood would damage your crops, wouldn’t it?’ She was trying to make the best of his feeble attempts at scintillating conversation and he cringed inwardly at his lack of charm. Even Jacob had better luck with females than he did. This was a woman who was the darling of society. An incomparable. And he was a crass oaf who couldn’t even afford one servant and became overwhelmed after receiving one, tiny compliment. But the die was cast, he had started the boring conversation, and he had to answer her polite question even if neither of them really cared about the answer.

  ‘It is the wrong time of year for crops. However, if the river does burst its banks it can be dangerous for my animals.’

  As if to prove a point, one of those animals cried out in panic. Letty’s eyes widened. ‘What was that?’

  ‘A sheep.’ And if Jack wasn’t mistaken, it was a sheep in distress. Just what he needed in the pouring rain, despite the fact it got him out of being the dullest conversationalist Letty had ever had the misfortune to talk to and gave him an excuse to escape from her tempting presence. ‘I will meet you back a
t the house, I need to go and see what is wrong.’

  ‘Something, I suspect, you might find much easier with the lantern, don’t you think?’ She grinned and wiggled the lamp for emphasis and sealed his fate. ‘I shall come with you.’

  Chapter Ten

  Twenty-four days and thirteen hours to go, give or take a few minutes...

  Letty had never heard the sound of a panicked sheep before, but it was quite unsettling and almost child-like. The nearer they got to the pitiful sound, the more her too-big boots stuck in the sodden ground beneath her feet. More worrying, in view of Jack’s sad tale about his mother’s untimely death, was the unmistakable noise of the angry river as they trudged ever closer to it.

  Jack had relieved her of her lantern and held it aloft following the noise deftly. He let out a frustrated groan when he spotted it. ‘There it is.’

  In the darkness, Letty could just about make out the shape of a sheep. Its head and flank were thrashing from side to side as it stood rooted to the spot. Jack simply stared at it in disgust. ‘Their hooves become embedded in the mud. I live in hope the silly animals will eventually learn from their mistakes and avoid the river bank. But they are sheep and sheep are reliably stupid at all times.’

  He put the lamp down on the ground and shrugged out of his heavy coat, passing it to Letty to hold, and then began to unbutton his waistcoat quickly. She watched transfixed as the second layer of clothing came off, unsure as to why he was stripping off, but when he gripped the hem of his shirt and began to pull that over his head too she began to panic.

  ‘W-what are you doing?’

  ‘Clearly you have never wrestled with a wet sheep, Letty, else you wouldn’t ask.’ The shirt joined the pile of clothes in her arms and he stood in front of her naked from the waist up and clearly irritated. ‘They can be ridiculously absorbent.’