least.
His eyes narrowed, becoming almost black as he digested her remark. When he spoke her confidence shrivelled. ‘I am the master here, Mrs Reed, it is your place, and his, to accommodate my every wish if you care to remain in my employ. You would do well to remember it if you wish to remain here above a se'night.’
With flaming cheeks she curtsied. ‘I understand exactly, sir. You have made it perfectly clear. If you require nothing else of me, I will bid you good night.’
She backed out, forgetting to take her candlestick in her hurry to depart. Twice on her return to her apartment she stubbed her bare toe in the darkness. Her humiliation had turned to anger long before she scrambled into bed. The only positive aspect of the unpleasant encounter had been that he had talked of her staying for two weeks, that was a great improvement on demanding that she left in the morning.
*
Rupert cursed his bad temper as the lovely young woman fled from him. He had been taken aback by seeing her toes peeping from beneath her hem, a glimpse of her slender ankles had almost unmanned him making him unnecessarily harsh. Since Amy had died he had not once thought of finding himself another wife, thought himself past redemption, too damaged in body and spirit to make an acceptable husband.
But from nowhere this young widow had appeared and feelings he'd thought long gone were stirring within him. Hard times had brought her here, she was a lady born and bred, would not be working as a servant otherwise. She had been here barely two days and already he felt his world shifting beneath his feet as though he no longer had control over his own destiny. He had vowed never to love again, to do so would only lead to further grief and heartache.
Love? What maggot had got into his brain now? Mrs Reed was his employee, the fact that she had hair the colour of ripe corn and eyes as blue as the summer sky was nothing to him. He would send her on her way as soon as he was recovered. There was brandy in his study, he had intended to go there and drink it.
Something stopped him. Perhaps he would try to sleep in a bed tonight, he still felt weak as a kitten, he wasn't sure he could make his way through the house without mishap. It was nothing to do with Mrs Reed's comment about Foster, nothing at all. He was going to remain downstairs because it suited him.
Now his stomach no longer gurgled emptily, he would return to his temporary abode and pray that he did not suffer from the nightmares that plagued him whenever he was prone in bed.
*
Emma wasn't sure what had woken her. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, something had frightened her awake. Was it the children? She threw back the covers and scrambled out ready to rush to their side. She was at the doorway when a cry of such despair echoed along the corridor that it almost broke her heart.
Snatching up her bed robe she dashed into the passage, it was Mr Bucknall. Her arms were barely through the sleeves when she burst into his room. He was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide open, his face twisted in agony. He was fast asleep, gripped tight by a savage nightmare.
Without a second's hesitation she ran to his side. ‘Mr Bucknall, sir, wake up, I implore you. You are having a nightmare.’
His hands were icy, cold sweat trickled down his tortured face, but he did not wake. He cried out a second time and tears streamed down his cheeks. She could think of nothing else to do but what she did her for her children when they were so afflicted. She climbed on to the bed beside him and gathered him close. For a moment he resisted, still moaned in that heartrending fashion then slowly he relaxed against her. His arms somehow found their way about her waist and he pulled her down beside him.
When she tried to move away he started to toss his head and mutter. She had no option but to remain where she was, he was in danger of reopening his wound the way he was struggling. ‘There,
His eyes narrowed, becoming almost black as he digested her remark. When he spoke her confidence shrivelled. ‘I am the master here, Mrs Reed, it is your place, and his, to accommodate my every wish if you care to remain in my employ. You would do well to remember it if you wish to remain here above a se'night.’
With flaming cheeks she curtsied. ‘I understand exactly, sir. You have made it perfectly clear. If you require nothing else of me, I will bid you good night.’
She backed out, forgetting to take her candlestick in her hurry to depart. Twice on her return to her apartment she stubbed her bare toe in the darkness. Her humiliation had turned to anger long before she scrambled into bed. The only positive aspect of the unpleasant encounter had been that he had talked of her staying for two weeks, that was a great improvement on demanding that she left in the morning.
*
Rupert cursed his bad temper as the lovely young woman fled from him. He had been taken aback by seeing her toes peeping from beneath her hem, a glimpse of her slender ankles had almost unmanned him making him unnecessarily harsh. Since Amy had died he had not once thought of finding himself another wife, thought himself past redemption, too damaged in body and spirit to make an acceptable husband.
But from nowhere this young widow had appeared and feelings he'd thought long gone were stirring within him. Hard times had brought her here, she was a lady born and bred, would not be working as a servant otherwise. She had been here barely two days and already he felt his world shifting beneath his feet as though he no longer had control over his own destiny. He had vowed never to love again, to do so would only lead to further grief and heartache.
Love? What maggot had got into his brain now? Mrs Reed was his employee, the fact that she had hair the colour of ripe corn and eyes as blue as the summer sky was nothing to him. He would send her on her way as soon as he was recovered. There was brandy in his study, he had intended to go there and drink it.
Something stopped him. Perhaps he would try to sleep in a bed tonight, he still felt weak as a kitten, he wasn't sure he could make his way through the house without mishap. It was nothing to do with Mrs Reed's comment about Foster, nothing at all. He was going to remain downstairs because it suited him.
Now his stomach no longer gurgled emptily, he would return to his temporary abode and pray that he did not suffer from the nightmares that plagued him whenever he was prone in bed.
*
Emma wasn't sure what had woken her. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, something had frightened her awake. Was it the children? She threw back the covers and scrambled out ready to rush to their side. She was at the doorway when a cry of such despair echoed along the corridor that it almost broke her heart.
Snatching up her bed robe she dashed into the passage, it was Mr Bucknall. Her arms were barely through the sleeves when she burst into his room. He was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide open, his face twisted in agony. He was fast asleep, gripped tight by a savage nightmare.
Without a second's hesitation she ran to his side. ‘Mr Bucknall, sir, wake up, I implore you. You are having a nightmare.’
His hands were icy, cold sweat trickled down his tortured face, but he did not wake. He cried out a second time and tears streamed down his cheeks. She could think of nothing else to do but what she did her for her children when they were so afflicted. She climbed on to the bed beside him and gathered him close. For a moment he resisted, still moaned in that heartrending fashion then slowly he relaxed against her. His arms somehow found their way about her waist and he pulled her down beside him.
When she tried to move away he started to toss his head and mutter. She had no option but to remain where she was, he was in danger of reopening his wound the way he was struggling. ‘There,
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