downstream. He couldn’t risk being swept away and leaving Angelica here alone.
Returning to the carriage where she waited patiently, he told her the news. “The way is flooded, we shall have to go back to find a place to stay for the night.”
But when he attempted to move the vehicle, the carriage proved obstinate and remained stuck in the mud. No matter what the earl tried, the team was unable to pull the curricle free. Blaming himself for having continued even in the storm, Richard went back to Angelica. “I’m afraid we are stranded.”
Just then the rain returned to a hard downpour, causing Richard to scramble back into the carriage, sliding down the leather seat until the length of his body was against Angelica’s. He put his arm on the seat behind her to brace himself, to keep from crushing her. “Forgive me,” he muttered with a slight grin.
Angelica knew the slant of the carriage was forcing their close proximity, but that didn’t stop the image of being held by him throughout the night. She suspected a night in Richard’s arms would be dangerous. “I-I believe we passed a cottage a mile or so back. Shall we unhook the team and see if they will allow us to shelter there?”
“An excellent notion. Stay here while I unhitch the horses.” He waded to the rear of the curricle and retrieved an umbrella from the small boot, then gave it to Angelica.
“When I have the horses turned around, you can ride to this cottage without getting your feet muddy.”
Within a matter of minutes the earl had his team free of the traces. He took the carriage rug and placed it on Zephyr’s back. Then he lifted Angelica from the curricle.
His very strength took her breath away. Angelica was certain her cheeks were red from the electrifying feel of his arms about her waist and limbs. He lightly tossed her up, and she quickly settled upon the horse’s back. She opened the umbrella, thankful for the darkness which hid her blushes. He returned to the carriage one last time and retrieved their portmanteaus.
It seemed an eternity until they reached the cottage where the lantern still glowed its welcome. Richard sat the portmanteaus on the steps before coming to help her down. He remained with his team while Angelica went to knock at the door.
Despite the lateness of the hour, within minutes the latch lifted and a small sleepy-eyed boy of seven or eight with curly brown hair peeked out. “What ye want?”
Too tired to worry about protecting their identity Angelica said, “I am Miss Markham, and that is Lord Blackstone.” She gestured to the earl who stood holding his team. “Our carriage has sunk in the mud, and we are stranded. Might we come in?”
The young boy chewed his lower lip for a moment, then called to the earl. “Are ye a real lord?”
“A very wet lord who would like to find a dry place for my horses as well.” Richard touched the brim of his hat, which poured a river of water.
Eyeing the animals with interest, the lad seemed convinced there was no danger. He threw open the door for Angelica. “Sit by the fire, ma’am, whilst I help ‘is lordship stable ‘is prads.”
The boy pulled a hat from a peg by the door, then dashed out into the rain, gesturing for his lordship to follow as he disappeared into the darkness. After the pair left, Angelica picked up the portmanteaus and stepped into the cottage. She called to see if anyone else was at home, but it appeared the young boy was alone, a somewhat shocking circumstance considering his tender age.
Taking the bags, she walked to the center of the large room, then set them on the dirt floor. She was delighted to see a fire on this rainy August night. Thoroughly damp, she welcomed the warmth. Looking around she discovered a small alcove which held a bed with a rough straw mattress, a curtain acted as a door to the tiny room. She opened her bag and retrieved a dry gown and hurried behind the curtain. By the time Richard and the young boy returned, she
Returning to the carriage where she waited patiently, he told her the news. “The way is flooded, we shall have to go back to find a place to stay for the night.”
But when he attempted to move the vehicle, the carriage proved obstinate and remained stuck in the mud. No matter what the earl tried, the team was unable to pull the curricle free. Blaming himself for having continued even in the storm, Richard went back to Angelica. “I’m afraid we are stranded.”
Just then the rain returned to a hard downpour, causing Richard to scramble back into the carriage, sliding down the leather seat until the length of his body was against Angelica’s. He put his arm on the seat behind her to brace himself, to keep from crushing her. “Forgive me,” he muttered with a slight grin.
Angelica knew the slant of the carriage was forcing their close proximity, but that didn’t stop the image of being held by him throughout the night. She suspected a night in Richard’s arms would be dangerous. “I-I believe we passed a cottage a mile or so back. Shall we unhook the team and see if they will allow us to shelter there?”
“An excellent notion. Stay here while I unhitch the horses.” He waded to the rear of the curricle and retrieved an umbrella from the small boot, then gave it to Angelica.
“When I have the horses turned around, you can ride to this cottage without getting your feet muddy.”
Within a matter of minutes the earl had his team free of the traces. He took the carriage rug and placed it on Zephyr’s back. Then he lifted Angelica from the curricle.
His very strength took her breath away. Angelica was certain her cheeks were red from the electrifying feel of his arms about her waist and limbs. He lightly tossed her up, and she quickly settled upon the horse’s back. She opened the umbrella, thankful for the darkness which hid her blushes. He returned to the carriage one last time and retrieved their portmanteaus.
It seemed an eternity until they reached the cottage where the lantern still glowed its welcome. Richard sat the portmanteaus on the steps before coming to help her down. He remained with his team while Angelica went to knock at the door.
Despite the lateness of the hour, within minutes the latch lifted and a small sleepy-eyed boy of seven or eight with curly brown hair peeked out. “What ye want?”
Too tired to worry about protecting their identity Angelica said, “I am Miss Markham, and that is Lord Blackstone.” She gestured to the earl who stood holding his team. “Our carriage has sunk in the mud, and we are stranded. Might we come in?”
The young boy chewed his lower lip for a moment, then called to the earl. “Are ye a real lord?”
“A very wet lord who would like to find a dry place for my horses as well.” Richard touched the brim of his hat, which poured a river of water.
Eyeing the animals with interest, the lad seemed convinced there was no danger. He threw open the door for Angelica. “Sit by the fire, ma’am, whilst I help ‘is lordship stable ‘is prads.”
The boy pulled a hat from a peg by the door, then dashed out into the rain, gesturing for his lordship to follow as he disappeared into the darkness. After the pair left, Angelica picked up the portmanteaus and stepped into the cottage. She called to see if anyone else was at home, but it appeared the young boy was alone, a somewhat shocking circumstance considering his tender age.
Taking the bags, she walked to the center of the large room, then set them on the dirt floor. She was delighted to see a fire on this rainy August night. Thoroughly damp, she welcomed the warmth. Looking around she discovered a small alcove which held a bed with a rough straw mattress, a curtain acted as a door to the tiny room. She opened her bag and retrieved a dry gown and hurried behind the curtain. By the time Richard and the young boy returned, she
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