her, then slowed, deciding instead to walk on and stop in front of the
barn’s double wagon door. The draft followed closely behind.
Lucas put two fingers in his mouth and an ear-splitting whistle sounded. “Apologize.”
Horatio tore across the snow-covered ground and circled Lucas before joining Reginald
and Fickle at the gate.
“They are tired and hungry, Lucas,” Jane implored, walking to the animals. “As am
I. If it is an apology you require, then you shall have one.”
Jane breathed in deeply, the pungent scent of snow, wet horse, and sodden wool filling
her nostrils and settling her sense of defeat squarely on her heart. “I am sorry you
were the one to find Reginald. I am sorry for shouting in an attempt to gain your
attention. I am sorry the horses spooked and caused you to sail down the hill in a
most undignified manner. I am sorry for all of it, Lucas. Absolutely everything.”
“Well,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the frozen ground. “That was quite thorough.
I accept your apology.” He cleared his throat and gestured at the horses. “I’ll help
you get them settled.”
Jane hurried around Reginald’s hindquarters and reached for the gate. “You will not,”
she said firmly. “I gave you an apology. It is your turn now to do as
I
asked.”
“What would Lord Needles say if I were to abandon his betrothed to the elements?”
Lucas asked, adjusting his filthy cravat. “He’d challenge me to a duel, perhaps. Or
force me to engage in a conversation concerning his work.”
Jane had had enough. “I’m not his betrothed, nor will I ever be,” she ground out,
freeing the door latch.
“You surely cannot say so with finality,” Lucas replied, walking her way.
She clucked impatiently at Horatio, Reginald, and Fickle to move back so she might
open the entrance. “I can—and I do,” she answered, pulling the door with such force
that it slammed against the unpainted sides of the barn.
The animals spooked at the sound and raced inside, narrowly missing Jane.
“He is, at this very moment, celebrating Christmas with your family—”
“Stop!” Jane cried, holding up her hands defensively. “Lord Needles asked if … if
I loved another. I tried to lie—I wanted to more than anything. But I couldn’t.”
“Jane.”
“Please, let me be. I’m begging you. If you ever cared one whit for me, go.”
Humiliation washed over Jane and she dropped her head, unable to bear the sight of
Lucas. “Go. I will see to the horses and join you shortly.”
God, but he’d been a fool. Lucas took a knife to his sodden breeches and ripped the
seams, letting the pieces fall to the floor. He moved on to his cravat, one nick of
the blade splitting the ruined fabric, then his shirt.
If only he’d told her of his feelings sooner. It would’ve saved them both torment
and sorrow. Lucas shrugged out of his coat and removed the shirt and cravat. He stood
there naked, only the cold air in the cottage reminding him to move. He’d allowed
fear to cloud his judgment and now Jane was paying the price.
Lucas walked to the hearth, no more than five steps across in the small, humble house
occupied by his family’s tenant, Mr. James. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace
and warmed his frigid limbs. He took a frayed quilt from the only chair in the room
and wrapped it around his waist.
Just then the front door opened and Jane appeared. She hesitated on the threshold,
staring at his bare chest as if it frightened her.
“My clothes were wet, and ruined beyond repair,” Lucas explained, crossing his arms
over his chest. “I would have borrowed something from my tenant, Mr. James, but he
is less than half my size.”
Jane nodded, then cast her gaze to the floor as she stepped all the way inside and
shut the door behind her. “And where is he?”
“With his daughter’s family in Liverpool for the holiday,” Lucas answered, frustrated
by
barn’s double wagon door. The draft followed closely behind.
Lucas put two fingers in his mouth and an ear-splitting whistle sounded. “Apologize.”
Horatio tore across the snow-covered ground and circled Lucas before joining Reginald
and Fickle at the gate.
“They are tired and hungry, Lucas,” Jane implored, walking to the animals. “As am
I. If it is an apology you require, then you shall have one.”
Jane breathed in deeply, the pungent scent of snow, wet horse, and sodden wool filling
her nostrils and settling her sense of defeat squarely on her heart. “I am sorry you
were the one to find Reginald. I am sorry for shouting in an attempt to gain your
attention. I am sorry the horses spooked and caused you to sail down the hill in a
most undignified manner. I am sorry for all of it, Lucas. Absolutely everything.”
“Well,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the frozen ground. “That was quite thorough.
I accept your apology.” He cleared his throat and gestured at the horses. “I’ll help
you get them settled.”
Jane hurried around Reginald’s hindquarters and reached for the gate. “You will not,”
she said firmly. “I gave you an apology. It is your turn now to do as
I
asked.”
“What would Lord Needles say if I were to abandon his betrothed to the elements?”
Lucas asked, adjusting his filthy cravat. “He’d challenge me to a duel, perhaps. Or
force me to engage in a conversation concerning his work.”
Jane had had enough. “I’m not his betrothed, nor will I ever be,” she ground out,
freeing the door latch.
“You surely cannot say so with finality,” Lucas replied, walking her way.
She clucked impatiently at Horatio, Reginald, and Fickle to move back so she might
open the entrance. “I can—and I do,” she answered, pulling the door with such force
that it slammed against the unpainted sides of the barn.
The animals spooked at the sound and raced inside, narrowly missing Jane.
“He is, at this very moment, celebrating Christmas with your family—”
“Stop!” Jane cried, holding up her hands defensively. “Lord Needles asked if … if
I loved another. I tried to lie—I wanted to more than anything. But I couldn’t.”
“Jane.”
“Please, let me be. I’m begging you. If you ever cared one whit for me, go.”
Humiliation washed over Jane and she dropped her head, unable to bear the sight of
Lucas. “Go. I will see to the horses and join you shortly.”
God, but he’d been a fool. Lucas took a knife to his sodden breeches and ripped the
seams, letting the pieces fall to the floor. He moved on to his cravat, one nick of
the blade splitting the ruined fabric, then his shirt.
If only he’d told her of his feelings sooner. It would’ve saved them both torment
and sorrow. Lucas shrugged out of his coat and removed the shirt and cravat. He stood
there naked, only the cold air in the cottage reminding him to move. He’d allowed
fear to cloud his judgment and now Jane was paying the price.
Lucas walked to the hearth, no more than five steps across in the small, humble house
occupied by his family’s tenant, Mr. James. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace
and warmed his frigid limbs. He took a frayed quilt from the only chair in the room
and wrapped it around his waist.
Just then the front door opened and Jane appeared. She hesitated on the threshold,
staring at his bare chest as if it frightened her.
“My clothes were wet, and ruined beyond repair,” Lucas explained, crossing his arms
over his chest. “I would have borrowed something from my tenant, Mr. James, but he
is less than half my size.”
Jane nodded, then cast her gaze to the floor as she stepped all the way inside and
shut the door behind her. “And where is he?”
“With his daughter’s family in Liverpool for the holiday,” Lucas answered, frustrated
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