Shadow on the Fells (8 page)

“Give me a hand, then,” she said. “You hold her against the wall, and I'll take a look.”

The sheep was easier to control than he expected, almost as if she knew they were trying to help.

“She's been struggling for a while,” said Chrissie, feeling inside the ewe to see how its lamb was lying. She cursed under her breath. “The forelegs are back.”

Will fumbled for his phone with one hand while holding the ewe firmly against the wall with the other. “What's the vet's number?” he asked. “I'll ring him for you.”

“Vet!” He was shocked to hear a smile in her voice. “If I called a vet for every problem, I'd be losing money by the day. I just have to try and push the lamb back a bit to release the legs. As long as it hasn't been like this for too long, there's a chance it will be okay.”

Will watched in awe as she closed her eyes to concentrate on what she was feeling. Her face was tense with effort, wet and shiny with the rain that was battering against it.

“Shouldn't we take them back to the barn?” he suggested, but she shook her head.

“No time. We may be too late as it is.”

When he saw two tiny pointed front feet appear, Will sighed with relief. With a slurping noise, the yellow lamb slid out onto the ground. Chrissie pulled it around to its mother's nose, clearing the mucous from its nostrils and rubbing its tiny chest, willing it to breathe while the ewe began licking its back and head. The tiny lamb shook itself, trying to stand within minutes of birth, wanting to suckle.

“We'd better make sure it gets a good feed,” said Chrissie, deftly flipping the sheep over so that its back was against her knees. “It's so important that lambs get the colostrum.”

“Colostrum?” Will repeated. It was as if Chrissie was speaking a foreign language.

“The first milk. It's full of antibodies from the mother, to help stop any infection before the lamb develops its own immune system.”

Reaching for a teat, she squeezed out some milk. “You see,” she said, leaning down to try and persuade the lamb to latch on to its mother. When it began to suckle voraciously, she smiled, catching Will's eye. Her joy was contagious, and he smiled back.

“So it's going to be okay?”

Chrissie nodded. “I hope so.”

She stood up and released the ewe, stepping back to leave the lamb with its mother. For a few minutes, they watched them bond.

“Do you know,” she said after a while, “I must have seen this well over a thousand times, but it never fails to move me.”

“Well, this is the first time for me and it seems like a miracle,” Will said.

“It is,” she agreed. “Life's miracle.”

The lamb was standing strongly on its legs, and Chrissie began to move away. “Come on... I think it'll be fine now. The rain seems to be letting up, too. We'll stop by again once we've checked the rest of the flock, and if it's still okay then I'll be back to take a look first thing in the morning.”

“And that's it?” asked Will. “They'll just stay here out in the open?”

Chrissie nodded. “If it was a very wet or cold night, or if the lamb seemed weak I'd take them in, but it's a big, fine, single lamb. These fell sheep are tough, you know.”

In the next half hour they found two more newborn single lambs, which were strong and healthy, and a set of sickly twins.

“We'd better take them into the warm,” Chrissie said. “Just to keep an eye on them and make sure that they're getting enough milk.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” asked Will.

“I'll put the ramp on the trailer down while you keep the ewe here, and then we'll just have to persuade her to walk in. It's usually quite easy because they tend to follow their lambs.”

Will's anxiety rose at the idea of seeing to the sheep on his own, but he had no other choice but to deal with it. As Chrissie disappeared into the darkness, the fell felt like the loneliest place in the world. Never had he been so out of his comfort zone. To his relief she was back in minutes.

“Right, then,” she said, lifting the lambs by their back legs and letting their mother get their scent before walking up the trailer ramp. “You help guide her.”

Will did as Chrissie asked. How had he managed to get himself into this situation. His shoes were wet and he had mud all over his trousers, but seeing the ewe with her newborn lambs was an honest and real experience, a lifetime away from the boardroom where he'd been just that afternoon.

“True mothering instinct,” he cried as the sheep bravely followed her lambs up the ramp, her love for them much stronger than her fear for herself.

“Strongest instinct in the world,” agreed Chrissie, latching the trailer shut. The contours of her face seemed softer as she looked over at the ewe and her lambs. It held warmth and caring, and he found himself wondering why she was on her own. It seemed kind of sad that someone who had so much tenderness and care to give only had animals, and not other people, to share it with.

“Come on,” she said. “Let's get them home.”

After a brief detour to check on the single lamb they'd helped first—who was still suckling happily—they headed back to the farm. The darkness was total, soft and black, their route picked out by the yellow lights of the elderly tractor, and it was starting to drizzle again.

He glanced at Chrissie, who was concentrating on driving, her chin jutting forward as she peered out into the night. A strand of hair had escaped and was stuck against her cheek. Will almost reached over to push it back, but quickly withdrew his hand. He felt so close to her after all they'd been through tonight, yet in truth, he hardly knew her. He sat back to take stock. He was out here in the middle of nowhere with someone he'd only recently met, soaked, cold to the core and way out of his comfort zone. And yet he felt...alive. He'd achieved a lot in his career, and before things went wrong he'd been proud of himself. But he'd never felt this type of satisfaction before. This was life-and-death stuff, real and raw. And Chrissie took it all in stride.

Chrissie parked the tractor beside the barn and cut the engine; it rumbled into silence and she climbed out.

“If you let the ramp down I'll open the doors and we'll get them into a pen,” she said. “Then we can go back to the house. I guess I owe you another coffee.”

It occurred to Will that she was assuming he was going to stay and help. Funnily enough, he realized that he wanted to.

The barn was barely lit by the few warm yellow lights that glowed down from its lofty ceiling. Will breathed in the unfamiliar aromas that mingled together, the sweetness of meadow hay and the strong smell of sheep, the delicious aroma of feed and something else, something he couldn't identify.

Chrissie persuaded the ewe to follow her and the lambs to a row of pens. “You close the gate as soon as they're in, and then we can make sure the lambs have suckled,” she said to Will.

He did exactly that, feeling a lifetime away from his previous life in the city and the courtroom.

“You're a natural,” she declared, smiling at him as he pushed the ewe in through the gate and fastened it. Their eyes met and held. She looked so tough and yet so vulnerable that for a moment Will felt like taking her in his arms and holding her tight. He took a step toward her but stopped.

“You must be tired,” he said. It wasn't like him to have such impulsive notions.

Chrissie nodded. “I'm always tired at this time of year. The night and the day seem to fade into one with catnaps in between.”

“Should we go and get that coffee, then?”

She laughed, her face glowing in the soft light. “Good idea. I just need to see to the orphan and its adoptive mother. Oh, and check on all the other animals.”

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Please, you've already done so much.”

“I've enjoyed it,” he said with a broad smile, pushing back a lock of damp hair from his face. “In a strange kind of way.”

When Chrissie motioned for him to follow her, he didn't hesitate. “I'll see to the other animals then,” she said. “Perhaps you could go and make sure that the ewe is still letting her adopted lamb suckle and check that the last lot are settling in. Oh, yes, and there's an orphan to feed, too. Fortunately it's a big, strong lamb, but his mother died just this morning. I'll bring a bottle back with me.”

The gratification he felt at being given his own tasks surprised him almost as much as the casual way she announced the ewe's death. “That's terrible,” he said.

Chrissie shrugged. “It happens. There are always farmers looking for orphans, though, so he'll soon have a new home. Make sure that those new lambs are warmed up and that they're suckling—I won't be long.”

Will watched her walk away, her strides confident and sure. Was there any situation that might faze her? he thought, with a surge of admiration.

Will was so focused on the lambs that he didn't notice Chrissie standing beside him until she cleared her throat. He looked up to see her watching him with a thoughtful frown. “So, what kind of lawyer are you, anyway?” she asked, totally out of the blue.

“I
was
a criminal lawyer...defense,” he told her, wondering why they were standing in her barn, cold and wet and tired, talking about him. “But that's all in the past—another life. These two seem fine...is there anything else I can do to help? I really don't mind.”

“Okay, then,” she said, handing him a bottle. It warmed his hand, reminding him of just how cold he was everywhere else. “You can feed the lamb...unless you want to get going?”

“No,” Will said quickly. “I'd like to. You'll have to show me how, though.” She bent toward the little lamb, and he noticed her hair had come loose; it cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, shorter wisps framing her face and emphasizing her brilliant blue eyes. Her skin glowed with health, he noted, but how could she be suntanned when it was still winter?

“Have you been on holiday?” he asked on impulse, and she burst out laughing.

“A holiday—what's that? Now who's asking daft questions? Here we are, soaked and exhausted and asking each other ridiculous things. Come on, let's get the lamb fed and then I'll make you that coffee.”

CHAPTER TEN

C
HRISSIE
FELT
SELF
-
CONSCIOUS
as she filled the kettle at the sink, deliberately taking her time. Something had changed as she and Will worked together in the barn.

In fact, there had been a kind of camaraderie between them while they fed the “pet” lamb and checked on all the other animals. Will had been determined to bottlefeed the lamb himself, and she'd laughed with him at his first awkward attempts. Once he got the hang of it, he'd seemed quite comfortable, kneeling on the floor in her dad's old jacket. Here, though, in her kitchen, cleaned up and imposing, he seemed very much the lawyer again.

She brewed a pot of coffee in silence, and when she sat down her tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Conversation evaded her, and to fill the void she busied herself pouring two mugs and handing him one. It was Will who eventually broke the silence.

“So what do you do for fun around here?” he asked with genuine interest.

An unexpected giggle fought its way out of her. “You just did it.”

“What!” He put down his drink with a thud. “You mean messing around with sheep in the cold and dark...that's your idea of fun?”

She shrugged. “I suppose it's not exactly fun—more like fulfillment—but I enjoy it. Why, what's your idea of fun?”

A shadow fell across Will's face and his silver-gray eyes seemed to turn a shade darker. “To be honest, work was always my main priority. I used to get such a buzz from it that I wasn't really interested in much else.”

Chrissie stared at him for a moment, softening to him as she sensed his vulnerability. “So why did you leave?” she asked quietly.

His answer came from the heart. “I suppose I woke up.”

He looked at her and she held his gaze, all awkwardness forgotten, waiting for him to tell her more, knowing that he wanted to. He took a gulp of his coffee.

“I was a sharp young lawyer, keen and ruthless, and the firm I worked for, Marcus Finch, was at the top of its game. They gave me opportunities, spotted my strengths and pushed me in the direction of being a defense lawyer. It was the words I loved, the power to change lives by saying just the right things. I gained a reputation for handling difficult cases.”

“What kind of cases?” she asked, intrigued.

He hesitated, gripping his mug with both hands. “At first it was things like robbery and arson.”

“And you defended the criminals?”

“Yes, that's what defense lawyers do...someone has to. Later, though, as my reputation grew, I was asked to handle more hardcore cases—armed robbery...even murder. I was good at it and at first I was proud of my success. That was all I cared about for a while—winning—and I didn't question the morality of my work until later.”

“So what changed?”

“I think I did. The cases got worse...worse than you can imagine. You would never believe how much corruption and brutality there is in the world. I was in the middle of a really huge case, and as I listened to the evidence I realized I didn't want to be involved anymore. I couldn't. So I walked out. I didn't want that life anymore. I was just sickened by the whole thing.”

“And your bosses, what did they say?”

“It was more the clients than my bosses,” he explained. “We were involved with some serious mob leaders, powerful and cruel men who'd stop at nothing. They paid a lot of money to have me defend them.”

“And when you refused?”

“When I refused to finish the case, they threatened me. So Marcus Finch made a statement to say that I was ill and incapable of continuing with the current case or any new ones in the foreseeable future. They said I had a breakdown.”

“And were you? Ill, I mean.”

Will ran his hand through his hair, holding his fingers for a second against his scalp. “Maybe I was,” he admitted. “All I knew, though, was that there was no way I could go on. And so I came here, hoping things would be a bit more normal...” He smiled suddenly. “Not that I think it is very normal around here after tonight.”

“It's normal to me,” said Chrissie. “And necessary and natural. What can be more normal than births and deaths and all that goes in between? Life up here may be tough, but it's real and rewarding.” She caught his eye. “And there's no greed and corruption...”

Will sighed. “It definitely is a whole world away from all that,” he agreed.

“So will you be staying at Craig Side for a while, do you think, or is it just an investment?”

Will hesitated, apparently surprised by the question. “I'd like to stay,” he said. “For a while, at least. I like the way of life here, and when my holiday rentals are up and running, hopefully I'll have a decent income.”

Something cold trickled down Chrissie's spine. After the way he'd helped her with the sheep, she'd almost forgotten the shadow that loomed between them. “Oh.” Her tone was sharp. “So you do still intend to change the place into a tourist destination?”

He shrugged. “Hopefully, but you don't need to worry—they'll be tastefully done. You know, authentic, I suppose you'd call it.”

“It's not the decor that's the problem though, is it?” she said. “It's the people the rentals attract, the people who wander the fells doing all kinds of damage.”

“By ‘them' I suppose you mean me,” Will remarked dryly. His manner had changed, Chrissie noted. Hardened. Once again he was the hotshot lawyer with no trace of the man she had just been talking to. It made her uneasy, his sudden ability to change faces. Made her wonder,
Who is the real Will Devlin
? And could she trust him?

She turned away, plunging her hands into the warm, soapy water in the sink, pretending to wash the dishes.

She sensed him step up behind her, so close she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. For a moment, she froze, and then she spun to face him, suds flying everywhere, her blue eyes blazing. “Of course, you'll have to
try
and get planning permission,” she said, hiding her vulnerability behind anger.

Will just smiled. “Don't worry about something that hasn't even happened yet,” he said softly, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up to his. His eyes, gray now rather than silver, seemed to smolder as they held hers, and Chrissie couldn't—didn't want to—look away. Slowly, he leaned down to place his lips on hers. They were warm and soft and unexpectedly tender. Despite her reservations, Chrissie felt herself respond, her lips trembling beneath his...until common sense kicked in. This was the man whose very presence threatened her way of life.

She pulled away, hot color flooding her cheeks. “I think it's time you left,” she said, stepping back.

He studied her with an amused smile. “Why? Afraid of your own response, are you?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “It was just a kiss.”

He stared at her for a moment longer. “Are you sure about that?”

She shivered. He was right about her fear.

He turned and walked out the door, allowing it to bang shut behind him. Her fingers lingered where his lips had touched hers. As his vehicle roared out of the yard she felt a sudden sense of loss for the connection they'd had...the camaraderie they'd shared when he helped her with the sheep. Will Devlin was dangerous, a man of many faces, and she must never forget about his plans for Craig Side. She would fight them tooth and nail if she had to.

If he believed that he was going to get approval for rentals this far up, he was in for a fight. There was no way she was letting strangers wander around her land. She couldn't stop them from walking on the fells, but the farther away they were from High Bracken, the less likely they would be to interfere with her sheep. And if he thought that one kiss was going to change her mind then he was sadly mistaken. Tomorrow, she decided, she would go and see Tom Farrah, the local councillor, and make an objection to Will's plans.

Anyway, she told herself, she had other things to think about right now. Floss was still in the barn; she'd go get her and check on the sheep again at the same time. The sickly twins could still need some attention, and she might even have to bring them inside to warm up. There was work to do, and she couldn't afford to spend her energy worrying about a man.

* * *

W
ILL
DROVE
TOO
FAST
down the narrow lane from High Bracken. Was he angry at the way she'd reacted, or disappointed at how their pleasant evening had ended? And how could he even think of running around in the dark and the rain helping ewes give birth as a pleasant evening, anyway? Six months ago he would have called it hell. Tonight, though, despite his disagreement with Chrissie, he had relished the experience. It was real and honest and rewarding. Just like she'd said.

He tried to process the evening and the way it had ended. He was good at that, good at getting to the truth...or twisting it to suit himself. He shook that thought aside. All that was behind him. He really was after the truth now. Unbelievably, he had enjoyed Chrissie's company, even though he regretted revealing so much of himself to her.

When they'd had the disagreement about his plans for Craig Side, the fire in her eyes had been so appealing that he hadn't been able to resist kissing her. He'd never met a woman like her before. He prided himself on controlling his life and his emotions. Chrissie Marsh seemed to be making him lose his hold on both. She wanted to oppose his plans for Craig Side, yet he wanted to kiss her?
Had
kissed her? What was going on with him?

It wasn't until he was halfway home that he heard the whining. He gradually became aware of the soft, gentle sound and slowed his car. Was it the radio? He turned down the music, but the sound was still there...and then he felt something against his cheek, something warm and wet. Surprise made him stand on the brakes, and he braced himself as the big vehicle slithered to a halt. Something hurtled past him from the backseat...

It was a little black-and-tan collie, and she scrambled onto the passenger seat, seemingly unharmed. She stared up at him, wagging her plumed tail.

“Now, how did you get in here?” he asked. It was the sheepdog Chrissie was training. She wriggled forward, standing on her hind legs to lick his face, and he stroked her pretty head. Well, this was awkward. He was going to have to take her back, and he dreaded having to see Chrissie again so soon, especially after the kiss.

Trouble was, he had made a kind of statement with his dramatic exit, and now he was going to have to go crawling back like an idiot. How was it that Chrissie Marsh had managed to get so far under his skin in such a short time?

* * *

T
HE
NIGHT
WAS
BLACK
when Chrissie stepped into the yard, and she wrapped her jacket more tightly around her to fend off the wind that was whipping down from the fell. The barn door rattled and banged as she struggled to open it; she shut it behind her with relief, glad she'd left the lights on.

“Floss,” she called, surprised that the little collie wasn't barking for attention. “Hey, girl, aren't you pleased to see me?”

When she peered over into the dog's pen her heart turned cold. Where was she? She'd left Tess and Fly in the house, so Floss wasn't with them. She must have managed to jump out when they were seeing to the sheep earlier. What if she had escaped up the fell? That could be catastrophic on a night like this.

She went back into the yard. “Floss,” she yelled again, but the wind ripped her voice away.

When the bright headlights appeared around the corner she ran toward them with no thought of being afraid of who it might be at this time of night. All she cared about was finding the missing dog. The vehicle door opened, and annoyingly, her heart started pounding. What to say to him?

“Have you lost something?” Will's voice was deep, almost jovial.

“Er...no,” she began. “I mean...yes, I can't find Floss.”

He let out a low whistle and the little black-and-tan sheepdog jumped out of the car. “Somehow she must have managed to get into my Range Rover,” he said. “Gave me a shock, I must say, when she started whining.”

Chrissie crouched down to make a fuss of the dog, hiding her embarrassment in Floss's soft, fluffy coat. “Thanks,” she mumbled, standing up.

Will was staring at her through the darkness, his silvery gray eyes sparkling in the light filtering out from the barn. The wind seemed to have dropped as quickly as it had started.

“Right,” she said, hoping he wouldn't be able to see her blush. “I guess I should say thanks, but maybe if you'd noticed her before you set off then I wouldn't have needed to worry.” It was a weak attempt to regain the upper hand, and she knew it.

“Okay...” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I get that you're annoyed about the kiss.”

“Annoyed isn't even halfway there.”

“I did it without thinking. Don't read so much into it.”

“So, you aren't sorry?”

“Why should I be?”

“Oh, I see. I suppose in your world you're used to kissing glamorous women who swoon in gratitude. Well, I am not some glamorous woman who...who...”

He smiled. “And obviously
not
swooning in gratitude. How are the sheep, by the way?”

Confused by his change of tack, she stood up straighter and flung her braid over her shoulder. “Thanks for bringing Floss back, but I need to get on.” She started to turn toward the house.

For a moment he seemed to be considering a response, but he remained silent. She strode away with the dog at her heels, her head held high.

“I'm sorry,” he called, but she didn't look back, going into the house and letting the door bang behind her.