Summer at Castle Stone by Lynn Marie Hulsman

Author:Lynn Marie Hulsman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007588091
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Morning, ladies!”

A little shiver ran through me as I crossed the threshold of the hen house. The May sun was so warm, I’d shed my field jacket almost as soon as I’d put it on. Now in the cool dampness, I could use the long sleeves.

I grabbed a wire basket and began filling it with eggs. After many run-throughs with Mrs. O’Grady, I was finally capable of a firm hand with the birds. A leaf-green inchworm was making its way across the chore sheet. I paused my work for a few minutes to watch it make its way across the wide expanse of the page, measure by measure. A cool breeze blew through the shed. My arms erupted in goose bumps and my nipples stiffened.

“Hello there,” Tom said, ducking through the doorway, taking care not to hit his head. The low, chocolate timbre of his voice resonated in my chest, sending a signal to my brain to make my nipples even more taut. I noticed him looking. He flicked his eyes upward to my face. “I was after my mam.”

“I’m on my own today,” I said, picking up the basket of eggs to show off my accomplishments.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen you. How’re you keeping?”

“I’m getting strong, that’s for sure.” I made a muscle with my bicep. My arm shot down immediately, once I realized I was showcasing my chest. “I just meant that working the rotation has been really physical. I like it, especially the horses. Other than Demon, obviously. Your mom’s been really kind to me.”

“She said you’ve been at hers quite a bit.” He read the chores list. It was the same one that had been hanging there since I came.

“Yeah, Tony and I have been watching TV with her in the evenings. I’m loving Irish television. It’s such a mixed bag of highbrow BBC and stuff that looks like someone filmed with their iPhone in a church basement. Tony loves spending evenings at your mom’s. He seems so much more energetic now than when I got here.”

“About that…I’m concerned that…” He stopped. “It’s like this. Widows and widowers, well…that isn’t really on. Not here in Ireland. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I get it,” I lied. “Let me tell her you’re worried.” I didn’t want Tom getting in the middle of Mrs. O’Grady and the Earl. I’d laid such excellent groundwork. Every night that I’d been free, I’d finagled a dinner plan with lots of glasses at cocktail hour. A routine was being established, and I think the Earl was growing to like it. I changed the subject. “After this, I need to go to my room and pick up some dishtowels we wrapped some food in the first time I ate with her. I finally did laundry and I’ve been meaning to get them back.”

“No need,” he said. “I’ll walk you to yours and pick up the towels, then go tell her myself.”

“I need to get these eggs to the kitchen.” I really didn’t want him to get to his mom before I did.

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