Stranded With The Scottish Earl by Anna Campbell

Author:Anna Campbell [Campbell, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anna Campbell
Published: 2016-06-29T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

* * *

“She’s stuck,” Charlotte said, staring through the rain at the ewe struggling in a dip in the field that the weather had turned into a deadly quagmire.

Lyle turned from where he’d pushed the sheep’s three companions to higher ground. He was covered in stinking mud. After hours saving wet sheep from the consequences of their stupidity, he wanted to consign the entire breed to eternal damnation. He was wet, tired, and sore with the strain of carrying the brainless beasts. Flailing hooves hadn't been kind either.

Charlotte wasn’t in much better case. Her hair was a tangle. Her filthy clothes would make any self-respecting debutante shriek in horror. Dirt streaked her piquant face. And still he thought she was utterly irresistible. He was in a bad way indeed.

Several times, he’d suggested that she return to the house, but she’d insisted on staying. Hers was a gallant soul.

He looked past his bedraggled beloved to where the last sheep sank deeper as she fought to free herself. “Damn ewe,” he muttered.

“No need to be rude,” Charlotte said, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in her tired face.

“Let me,” he said, when she bent to try and haul the sheep free. The sodden winter fleece weighed a ton.

“We’ll both have to lift her,” Charlotte said breathlessly.

Fifteen grim minutes later, he gave one last heave and the animal scrambled onto firmer ground. Charlotte, kneeling in a puddle, extended a gloved hand.

“I think she’s about to give birth,” Charlotte said, accepting his help.

Dismayed, Lyle brushed dripping hair from his eyes and studied the sheep. Charlotte was right. “Blast.”

“She’s before term. She won’t make it back to the barn. We’ll have to get her into the byre.”

“Let’s go,” he said wearily.

“Do you know what to do?” Charlotte asked after they’d caviled the bleating, confused animal up the slope to shelter. Luckily it wasn’t far.

“I’m hoping nature will take its course.”

He shooed the byre’s other occupants into a corner. The pregnant ewe was starting to make ominous sounds and circle the dirty straw on the floor, lying down, then lumbering to her feet.

“Can we do anything to help her?” Charlotte asked, watching the ewe’s increasingly urgent movements with concern.

“Not at this stage. It’s all going as usual so far.” He climbed the short ladder to the raised platform at the back of the byre and heaved a bale of hay to the edge. “Watch out.”

Ignoring his protesting muscles, he pushed the hay to the ground. He muffled a groan, but Charlotte heard him. “Are you all right?”

He mustered a smile. “I’ve been living in London too long. A Scotsman should laugh off what we’ve done today.”

“I need to meet more Scotsmen. They’re an impressive tribe.”

“We are at that,” he said, tossing over another bale, then descending to the ground.

Charlotte broke up the hay and spread it for the other sheep. Lyle helped her. The pregnant ewe was bleating and leaning down on folded front legs.

“Is this the last paddock?” He felt like he’d quartered the county today, instead of just walked a few sodden fields.

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