Wedding Wagers(27)

She paused by the pair of bays. Lord Locken must be a wealthy gentleman  indeed. The bays were well-bred, beautiful specimens. She stepped around  them and moved to the curricle.

Juliet recoiled at the first sight of John. His clothing was rumpled and  soiled, and he had a swollen nose, the blood crusted about his mouth  and chin. "I thought you said he was uninjured."

"He got into a bit of a scrape with a horse," Lord Locken said. "But he's passed out from the alcohol."

She decided to question him on the fight her brother had gotten into  later. For now, they had to somehow transport the man. Lord Locken's  cane was propped against the side of the curricle, reminding Juliet of  his injury. Mrs. Campton would be useless, so Juliet would have to help  carry her brother.

She lifted her night rail enough to step into the curricle. Her brother  reeked of alcohol and something more rank. "John," she said, shaking his  shoulder. "John, time to wake up."

His head lolled, but his eyes didn't even crack open.

Lord Locken said nothing as Juliet continued trying to wake her brother.

Finally, she turned to face the dark-eyed man. "Tell me how to help you. I don't want you to injure your ankle further."

His brows drew together. "My ankle is of no concern. A small thing like you could hardly carry a full-grown man."

For some reason, his words made her pulse hammer. "I can lift his legs at least, if you hold up his torso."

The man hesitated, then nodded. "That might work. I'll prop him up,"  Lord Locken said, "and you can go before me and grab his feet."

So she and Lord Locken had to change places, and Juliet brushed against  him as they moved. When she climbed out of the curricle, she realized  she'd been holding her breath. She wiped at the rain on her face and  exhaled. Then she grasped her brother's ankles and walked backward as  Lord Locken hefted him until John was out of the curricle. Juliet had  really done nothing, but now the real work would begin.

"Ready?" Lord Locken said.

He was hardly breathless, even though his ankle was surely in pain.

Juliet kept her brother's ankles hoisted and propped on her hips as she  walked with Lord Locken into the house. He paused when he saw the flight  of stairs.

"We could put him in the drawing room on the settee," Juliet suggested.         

     



 

Lord Locken's gaze connected with her. "He'll be more comfortable in his bed."

"If you think we can make it up the stairs," Juliet said, giving him an out if he should care to have one.

"We'll make it." Lord Locken began to move up the stairs backward.

Juliet couldn't help but notice Lord Locken wincing every couple of  steps as he put weight on his injured ankle. She gritted her teeth in  commiseration and cursed her brother once again. His actions certainly  had far-reaching consequences.

It was nothing short of a miracle that they managed to deposit her  brother on his bed without dropping him. She tugged off his boots and  then rolled him to the side to work his jacket off one of his arms.

"Let me help," Lord Locken said, moving to her side.

Inside now, she caught a whiff of his decidedly male scent-spice, rain,  and the outdoors. She ignored the way her pulse seemed to jump while in  close proximity with him, and she started to undo the buttons of her  brother's vest.

Together they made quick work of removing John's jacket, his vest and cravat.

Juliet decided to leave his shirt and breeches on.

"I'll roll him if you want to pull the covers out from under him," Lord Locken said.

A practical suggestion. They worked together in silence, the only sound  the light snores of her brother and the increasing rain slapping against  the bedroom window.

"I'll fetch a glass of water to put by his bedside should he wake,"  Juliet said, knowing she was making an excuse to leave the room. But  with John settled into his bed and Lord Locken's dominating presence,  she had to keep moving, keep working.

She paused in the doorway. "Should you care to come to the kitchen, I can brew up some tea to sustain you on your return trip."

Lord Locken's eyes flicked to hers. "Thank you. I'd welcome the refreshment."

Juliet's step felt light as she left the room and went downstairs. The  front door was still wide open, and the damp air seeped into the  entryway. She should fetch Lord Locken's cane at the very least, and  what about his bays?

She hurried out into the weather to fetch the cane, and the wind whipped  stinging rain against her skin. Juliet paused by the bays, who were  stalwart in their patience as they endured the weather. Neither of them  seemed bothered by the wind and rain in the least. She stroked their  noses, then went about her task of retrieving Lord Locken's cane. By the  time she made it back inside, her hair was quite damp, and Lord Locken  was coming down the stairs. His hand had a firm grip on the banister as  he took each stair slowly. She shut the door behind her, then headed up  the stairs to meet the man halfway.

"You didn't have to do that," he said as he took the cane from her outstretched hand. His gaze surveyed her damp appearance.

"Nonsense." She brushed wet hair from her face. "You've put more strain  on your injury." She took a step back from the dark gaze of Lord Locken.  She now realized that his eyes were not black, but a dark brown. "Come  to the kitchen, and I'll put the tea on."

He looked as if he were about to change his mind. Instead, he nodded and continued down the stairs.





Southill's sister was a temptress of the worst kind, Victor decided.  Meaning that she was beautiful and sensual without even knowing it. Her  innocence was more attractive to Victor than a woman who knew the art of  seduction, and the soft light coming from the few candles in the  kitchen only added to the allure. He tried to push such thoughts out of  his head as he observed her moving about the room, and it was clear she  wasn't too familiar with the workings of a kitchen, but she was trying,  and that certainly counted.

"Let me stoke the fire." He moved to her side after she'd tried more  than once to get the embers to ignite into flame. He couldn't help  notice the scent of rain on her skin and clothing, and he'd never before  realized how enticing it smelled.

He added a few bits of kindling to the hot coals and gently blew on them. Moments later, the kindling caught on fire.

"Bravo," Lady Juliet said, clapping her hands together. "You did it."

Victor straightened and smiled down at her. "It's rather simple once you know how to do it."

She blinked her long lashes, and he noticed her blue eyes again, much  like her brother's, yet different too. The blue of her eyes was a deeper  color, reminding him of a pond on a summer's day. "I'm not as helpless  as I might seem." Her lips curved upward. "I've some skills, just not in  the kitchen."

He held back the rather suggestive comment that popped into his mind and  let her move past him to fill the tea kettle with water.         

     



 

Once she set that on top of the warming stove, she opened a few  cupboards, searching. "Ah, here it is." She turned, holding a plate of  butter. Setting it on the table, she again busied herself looking for  something else.

Victor leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He stifled a yawn. He was quite tired, yet content as well.

"Here's the cake Mrs. Campton made yesterday." Lady Juliet carried a  plate to the table and set it in front of Victor. "It's still moist."

"Thank you," he said. "I didn't expect to be fed in the middle of the  night." He took the fork she'd handed him, then paused. "Are you not  eating?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly eat," she said.

He waited. When she didn't continue, he prompted, "Because . . .?"

She looked away from him. "I haven't had much of an appetite of late."  Standing there, she looked forlorn with her damp hair and delicate  features.

"Are you ill?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Her gaze cut back to his. "Oh, no, nothing like that." She exhaled.  "Things have not been easy since the passing of my father a year ago.  And my brother's follies have compounded my distress."

Of course. Victor should have guessed some of this-what with all the  gambling her brother did, and her being practically alone at this big  estate. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She blinked and turned away, attending to the tea kettle. Surely, she  was not still grieving so deeply? Victor supposed it was possible,  especially if she'd been close to her father. Victor wouldn't grieve the  passing of his own father, and he supposed that unfortunate attitude  might give him something more to feel guilty over, but it was the truth.

"John has taken it hard," Lady Juliet said, her back still turned.

"Yes," Victor said for lack of a better response. Something hung in the  air between them-questions he wasn't sure it was his place to ask. "And  how are you faring?"