To Protect and to Cherish (15 page)

             
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and closed the space between them, “You sound jealous, Lady Ashley.”

             
“Of being knee-deep in mud, having a drenched coat, and destroying the seat of a perfectly good pair of breeches.”

             
His predatory smiled told her she had said the wrong thing, “How do you know I destroyed the seat of them?”

             
Jillian sputtered, “Milord, I believe this conversation is beneath you, but if you insist on knowing, I heard it from the scullery maid who was made to scrub them out.”

             
He grinned as if he did not believe her.

             
She pushed him from herself, “Go. Do your work or your wife will be irritated at you deferring her pleasure trip again.”

             
He left the great house whistling.

             
Amy was not on time, but she was not so late that Jillian had taken tea without her.

             
“Do you know where he is taking you yet?”

             
Jillian stirred the sugar into her beverage, “No, but he said we’ll be gone two weeks.”

             
Amy took a cucumber sandwich, “Slade has always been rather serious. It is interesting to watch him with you.”

             
Jillian stopped stirring, “What do you mean?”

             
“Planning a surprise, leaving the estate for two weeks – it is all so carefree. He is a different and better man with you, Jillian.”

             
“I am certain he was always a good man, Amy,” Jillian could tell by the way his staff and tenants treated him.

             
“Yes. He was honorable and kind, but he has never taken time to just be human.”

             
Jillian couldn’t process that information right now, so she changed the subject, “When are you coming to ride with me?”

             
“I don’t know, Jill,” Amy shortened her name, “it still seems dangerous – even if you do it all the time.”

             
“Now that Gacela’s foot is better, you can ride her. She’s about as energetic as Cook’s bread pudding.”

             
Amy laughed at the comparison, “I’m still thinking about it. I’ll let you know when you get back from your mysterious journey.”

             
Amy stayed long enough to offer her opinion on which clothes should be packed. Since they had no idea where Slade was taking Jillian, she had to pack more.

             
“I should have had him tell you, and you could have just packed for me,” Jillian looked at all the trunks.

             
“That wouldn’t have worked,” Amy debated over a heavier dressing gown, “I cannot keep a secret at all.”

             
Jillian walked her to her carriage shortly after that. The duchess decided to take a short walk to stretch her legs.

             
She passed by Salvaje in the pasture and glared at him. He flipped his mane at her, seeming to taunt her with his past behavior.

             
Jillian spun on her heel and marched to the stable where Peter was instructing a new stable boy on how to clean hooves.

             
She waited until he had finished.

             
“Peter,” she gained his attention.

             
“Milady,” he bowed slightly, “do you wish to ride today?”

             
“I think not,” she had ridden the day previous, and had much to do before the morrow, “I am simply wondering how much progress you are making with Salvaje.”

             
He looked down at his feet, “It is not going well, milady.”

             
Jillian knew the man was uneasy about displeasing her and that he would likely not tell her the whole story without prompting.

             
“Have you been riding him?”

             
“I have, but he isn’t very manageable yet.”

             
She could attest to that, “What seems to be the problem? I thought you said he was so gentle.”

             
Peter grimaced, “He is a different animal out of the pen than in, milady.”

             
Jillian felt as if the secret had just been exposed.

             
“He is tame as ever a horse was while we’re in the ring or the pasture, but as soon as we take him out, he turns into a beast.”

             
“Has anyone been injured?”

              She hoped not because she might have been able to prevent it by telling them the truth.

             
“No, milady. I didn’t fall from his back – I held on when he tried to throw me.”

             
Jillian smiled at him, “I am glad to hear that, Peter.”

             
The man seemed relieved that she wasn’t annoyed with him.

             
“Will you continue to work with him or are you going to suggest his grace should give him up?”

             
Peter’s expression became tense again.

             
“Have you told him?” she pressed on.

             
“No, milady. Not yet.”

             
She didn’t think her husband would ever put someone on an animal without checking with his groom first, but having an animal like Salvaje could be dangerous.

             
“Would you like me to tell him?”

             
Peter’s eyes widened.

             
“It is not a threat, Peter,” she almost laughed. “I know my husband has been busy, but he regards your opinion of these horses and trusts you to tell him when one of them is in danger or is a danger to others. If you prefer to inform him of the matter yourself, you should be aware he will be home late tonight and leaving in the morning.”

             
Peter looked at her as if he had never seen her before. He exhaled a breath she thought he must have been holding and gave her a small smile, “Thank you, milady. I will attempt to speak to him before your journey.”

             
Jillian walked slowly back to the house, enjoying the warmth of the sun. After the week of cool, rainy weather, the heat had returned. Jillian could not think of a year when November was so pleasant.

             
It was not even close to dinner time, and Jillian was out of things to do. She normally kept herself busy, but her excitement for the upcoming trip was making the day seem to drag.

             
She decided to see if Cook would allow her to help in the kitchen. Some days the woman gave her small jobs, other days she seemed annoyed by the idea of having the duchess underfoot.

             
“Hello, Cook,” she met the older woman in the pantry, “can I trouble you with something to keep my mind and hands busy this afternoon?”

             
The corners of that woman’s eyes crinkled in amusement, “I suppose you’re getting ready to leave on your trip?”

             
Jillian nodded.

             
Cook led her into the kitchen where the door was open to the kitchen garden, “I could give you something to do, but I think you might find it on your own,” she pointed to the man sitting outside the door on a bench.

             
Jillian laughed and thanked the woman before walking out the kitchen door.

             
Slade looked up at her in surprise. He had been using a stick to scrape some of the clay from his boots. His hair was damp with sweat, causing it to curl around the edges. His cheeks were pink from some unknown exertion.

             
“Jillian!”

             
She sat down next to him, though there was scarcely room for her, “I see you did not manage to stay clean today either.”

             
He set his foot down, “I was hoping to sneak in without you seeing me.”

             
She laughed at that, “Why don’t you just take them off and leave them here?” she pointed at the boots.

             
“And walk in my stockings through the halls?”

             
“I do it,” she whispered.

             
“You have skirts to hide your feet.”

             
She took the stick from his hand and then knelt in front of him. He didn’t move.

             
She looked up expectantly.

             
With an air of curiosity, he raised his foot.

             
She looked down and focused on the task before her.

             
“I suppose it would be a great scandal to have the master of the house walking about in a state of undress.”

             
He smirked at her.

             
She finished the first boot and held out her hand for the second, “However, I recall you standing in your study with just your waistcoat on.”

             
He allowed her to scrape the mud from the bottom of his boot, “At least I put my coat back on before I left the room.”

             
She scraped a large clump from the edge of his boot, “You were walking about the fields with only your shirt just a few weeks ago.”

             
He pulled his foot away from her, “And you were so embarrassed by it you couldn’t look at me,” he leaned toward her and rested his elbows on his knees.

             
She didn’t deny it.

             
“It is more acceptable out in the fields. Nobody else wears a waistcoat and jacket.”

             
She rose and looked down at him, “Your feet should be clean enough to make it to our sitting room, but I would not test Mrs. Bailey’s patience by walking over the new rug with those boots.”

             
He stood and she noticed the front of his jacket was open.

             
“You had better fasten those buttons, sir,” she pointed, “or people will know you have gone without your waistcoat again.”

             
She turned darted quickly around him and hurried inside.

             
She could hear him coming up the staircase behind her, but he did not speak.

             
She waited for him in the sitting room. He had removed his footwear outside the door.

             
“Do you need to go back out or are you finished for the day?” she greeted him with a question.

             
He stopped just inside the door and removed his outer coat, “I am finished.”

             
Jillian didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy admiring her husband’s appearance. It was evident he had been working. A streak of dirt ran from his temple to his jaw, and his cravat bore signs of both sweat and dirt. The knees of his breeches had grass and dirt stains that some maid was going to roll her eyes over.

             
She looked him in the eye, “You will need to wash for dinner.”

             
“I believe I have time,” he spoke softly. “They will not expect us for two hours.”

             
She didn’t move.

             
He finally did. He broke eye contact and walked into his room, shutting the door softly behind himself.

             
Jillian looked at her bed. Erin had laid out an evening gown for her. Jillian ran her hand over the rose colored fabric.

             
She decided not to bother Erin to help her change. She reached behind herself and unfastened the gown. It dropped to her feet and she stooped to lift it back to the bed. She needed to change her petticoat as this dress had a lower neckline than her morning gown.

             
She was about to retrieve one from her wardrobe when she heard Slade moving about in his room. Walking around the bed, she realized the door adjoining their rooms was open. Neither of them had used it since the wedding, keeping their meetings to the sitting room.

             
Jillian approached it to close it, but she caught a glimpse of Slade as she reached for the door knob. He stood at his wash basin, his back turned to her, and he had stripped off his shirt.

             
She had thought him quite uncovered when he was simply in his shirt, but now she realized that fabric was concealing much more than she anticipated.