A Bride Most Begrudging (21 page)

Wonderful. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m not dressed.”

“See to it then. I’ll meet you outside.”

Rising from her pallet, she slipped on a dress and twisted her hair up into a cap. Maybe she would have time to go back to sleep after the milking.

Last night’s rain had cooled things off but left a muddy mess to walk in. The mud oozed through her toes as she headed for the goat barn. Rubbing her arms against the chill, she saw Drew had already brought out the animal and stood conversing with it.

One hand held the stool and pail while the other scratched the goat’s chin. She watched as he bent his head to its ear, whispering, nuzzling, chuckling. The animal bumped its nose against Drew’s face in response.

Ruffling the area between its ears, Drew straightened and turned to find her watching him. Their gazes collided and her heart did something peculiar.

The animal nudged him. Without releasing her from his intense look, he slid his knuckles up and down the goat’s jawline, yet it was her own body that did the reacting.

Had he done it a’purpose? No. She didn’t think so.

Finally he set down stool and pail, then patted the ugly gray creature. “This is Snowflake.”

Constance moved a little closer. She’d seen the goat many a time wandering about the area rummaging for food, but she’d kept well away from it. “Shouldn’t we tie her up or something?”

“No. She doesn’t mind the milking. Come and sit.”

Rubbing her arms again, Constance took her place on the stool. Drew squatted and reached around her, grabbing one of Snowflake’s teats. He squeezed and milk squirted into the bucket.

Fascinated, she watched the flexing and giving of the muscles along his arm, the sweep of short dark hairs decorating its surface. She closed her eyes, inhaling the morning’s dew and dampness combined with a blend of man and beast.

Dawn touched the sky and, like some mighty conductor, cued a solitary songbird for the morning’s prelude. First a tentative chirrup from far away, and then another before it received a lonely trill in response. Next came a warble, and in the moments that followed a melody burst forth, grounded by the steady
pang, pang, pang
of milk hitting the bucket.

The panging stopped. “Now you try.”

Constance opened her eyes, allowing her gaze to journey from his rolled-up sleeve to his muscular forearm. Her perusal leisurely progressed to his powerful hand coddling the goat’s pink teat. He released it, resting his elbow on his updrawn knee.

Her leg muscles contracted, then she reached out and touched a teat, quickly withdrawing her fingers.

He chuckled. “It won’t hurt you.”

Wiping her hand on her skirt, she reached forward again, grasped one, and pulled. Snowflake jumped. Constance squealed and the forest quieted for a moment.

“No, no. You roll your fingers down her teat. Like this.”

He reached around, magically making the milk flow out. She tried again. Snowflake turned her head and baahed.

“Baah, yourself.” She looked to Drew. “This isn’t working.”

“Watch.” He placed an open palm on the teat. “Roll your fingers down. First this finger, then this one and so on. You must set a faster pace, of course, but yanking is not what milks her.”

She attempted to copy his actions, but still no milk.

He placed his arm alongside hers, cupping her hand in his, then guided her movements. Her skin leapt to life at every point he touched. It was most unnerving.

The milk hit the pail. “After you squeeze, cup her udder so more milk will flow in.”

His chest now lay against her shoulder, his muscled arm still flexed against hers. And in a rush, the thought tumbled upon her. Sweet heaven above, she was falling in love.

chapter
T
WELVE
   

IN LOVE
? BUT HOW? How could that be? She paused while her breathing grew rapid and her heart pulsed. Then she made herself be completely honest, realizing it wasn’t all that hard to believe.

He was, after all, a God-fearing man. He had agreed to her marriage terms, comforted her when she’d needed it, shown her how to survive in a new land, and at long last, he had believed her. He’d accepted she was Lady Constance Caroline Morrow, daughter to the Right Honorable the Earl of Greyhame. He’d accepted it because she had told him so. He also dallied in mathematical challenges.

Add that to a beautifully made body and a breathtaking face, and you have one lost battle before it ever began. She swallowed. The question now was what to do.

“Constance? Go ahead, you try.”

She took a deep breath, throwing back her head. “Look at the sunrise, Drew. It’s exquisite.”

He glanced up at the sky. “It’s exquisite every morning. If you’d like to watch the sunrise, I’ll wake you early tomorrow. Right now, we need to milk the goat.”

She gave him a sweet smile and turned back to Snowflake. Cupping the udder, she rolled her fingers down the teat, ejecting a squirt of milk. She caught her breath and turned to him with delight. “I did it!”

He gave the slightest of nods. “Very good. Now continue with that over and over until the pail is filled.”

Turning back to the milking, she tried again. Her expression fell. None was forthcoming. She tried several more times.

“You’re squeezing too hard. Remember to let the milk flow in after you squeeze.”

She tried again.

“No, like this.” He placed his hand over hers, his whiskers grazing her cheek. Her insides fluttered.

“Relax your hand, Constance.”

She relaxed. He repositioned her fingers.

“Cup the udder. Like this.”

The pit of her stomach felt queasy. In truth, she needed to decide what to do about this and right quickly. She cupped the udder.

“Good. Now try to milk her.”

He guided her hands. The concert playing through her veins drowned out all other sounds. Did he know? Could he tell? She angled her face to look at him. He was so close. He turned toward her then, which brought their lips near touching. What would he do if she tilted her head and pressed her lips against his?

The goat was forgotten, but their hands remained joined.

“Drew?” she breathed.

He jumped up and back like a sprung spring. The morning song within her slowed. Breathing became a challenge. An emotion just short of horror raced across his face.

He cleared his throat. “If you milk with two hands, it will go more quickly.”

She waited a moment, letting him see her desire, before turning her attention back to Snowflake. She covered one hand with the other.

He tunneled his fingers through his hair. “No, Constance. I meant to milk two teats at once.”

She moved to another teat. With very slow progress, she managed to extract some milk.

“We usually get a full pail from her each morning.”

She nodded and continued with the task at hand.

He hesitated. “Constance, I …”

Stilling, she swept up her lashes.

“Nothing.” He clamped his mouth shut and strode away.

Snowflake followed him, knocking the pail over on her way. Constance squealed and tried to save what little milk she had. There was only enough to cover the bottom of the pail.

————

The friendly elm held its shady arms over the teacher and her pupil in the yard. Constance leaned against the trunk and smoothed her skirts around her. “You are to keep
both
eyes closed during the prayer.”

Sally’s brow furrowed. “I just seeing if you eyes closed.”

Constance quirked a brow. “Do you remember yesterday’s verse?”

She nodded vigorously. “ ‘J was a Jay, that pwattles and toys. K was a Key, that lock’d up bad boys.’ ”

Sally’s bright eyes shone with pride, and Constance suppressed the urge to gather the child up and laugh with delight. “Your
Bible
verse.”

“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide. “ ‘Listen to me, my child-wen, for blessed are those who keep My way.’ Boberb eight, thirty-two.”

“Perfect. And the abecedarius?”

Sally jumped to her knees, causing a billow of dirt to rise around her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she chanted the alphabet.

“Oh, Sally, that was excellent. It’s pleased I am with you.” Picking up the gingerbread slate, she dusted it off and handed it to her. “Remember you what two and two added together make?”

“Foe!”

“Exactly.” She leaned over Sally’s shoulder as the moppet painstakingly wrote out the numeral with a piece of weathered oyster shell. It took up almost the entire slate. “What are one and two?”

“Thwee!”

Constance smoothed a hand down Sally’s back. “My, someone I know will be eating a lot of this gingerbread slate if she continues in such an excellent manner.”

Beaming, Sally continued with her work.

“What is the meaning of this?” Drew barked from the edge of the clearing.

Constance gasped. Sally hopped to her feet and ran to him. “Sissy learn me! Look!” Holding up her slate, she presented it to him.

He looked at Constance, his eyes conveying his fury. “What on God’s green earth do you think you are doing?”

Although the words were not meant for Sally, she could see the child’s anguish at his disapproval. “Sally, your verse for tomorrow is Proverb 14:17, ‘He who is quick-tempered acts foolishly.’ ”

Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. “I do my numbers wrong?” Constance opened her arms. “You did them perfectly. But enough for today. Let us close in prayer.”

Sally crawled into Constance’s lap, folded her hands, and bowed her head.

“Govern us with Thy grace, O eternal Wisdom, and direct our steps in Thy way. Amen.”

“I keep my eyes shut, Sissy.”

She brushed Sally’s tears. “That’s a good girl. Now run along inside and see if Mary is in need of any help.” As soon as Sally made it through the door, Constance rounded on Drew. “How dare you! She’s been working and working on her lessons, and you’ve no right to crush her that way.”

“I will do much more than that if I ever catch you filling her head with such things again. She is to attend to tasks as belong to women, not meddle in things that are proper for men, whose minds are stronger.”

“Stronger, ha! All your brains buttered would not fill two spoonfuls.”

He straightened his spine. “You will heed me on this, Constance.”

“How can you ask this? She’s a bright child, her memory has no bounds, and already she’s learned her tables. Her potential is incredible.”

He took a step toward her. “I am the master, she is my sister, and I said
no
. That is the end of it.”

“She is my sister too.”

“Not for long.”

She blinked. He was, of course, right. But more and more she’d been toying with the idea of staying. Certainly, life wasn’t as easy here as it was in England, but when she was with Drew, easy didn’t matter. For every color was deeper, every taste richer, every sacrifice sharper. He might be acting like a woodcock at the moment, yet, still, here with him, she was alive. Really alive. Even her home in England, her uncle, her math didn’t compare to what she felt for Drew. She nodded her head. She wasn’t toying with the idea at all. She had, in fact, made up her mind. She wanted to stay.

chapter
T
HIRTEEN
   

OF COURSE, SHE need not give up her math. She could edit the journal from here almost as easily as she could back home.

She didn’t think Drew would have any objection either, for he’d originally planned to accept their marriage. She was, after all, the one who’d insisted on the annulment. And if that weren’t enough, he desired her. Hadn’t he demonstrated such many a time throughout the last several weeks?

Yes. Yes, he had. And for the first time ever, she reciprocated the feeling. She took a deep breath. “No, Sally’s not my sister. Not really. But I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

He waited, posture stiff, eyebrows drawn. Perhaps this wasn’t the best of times. Still, she wanted the matter settled. She moistened her lips. “It’s obvious you want to take me to wife, Drew. And since I’m already here, we’re already wed, and there are no better prospects waiting for me in England, I agree to be your wife in all things. I will, of course, still need to edit the
Ladies’ Mathematical Diary,
since Uncle Skelly no longer can.”