The Winter Bride (Rogues and Gentlemen) by Emma V Leech

Author:Emma V Leech [Leech, Emma V]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Wherein… a winter bride.”

It was always dark when Ned rose, but it was far earlier than usual this morning. He’d been awake most of the night, his eye on the soft flakes that fell in whispers beyond the kitchen window.

He’d got up more than once and stuck his head out of the front door to check how much had fallen. For now it had barely settled, but he was not relieved. If it fell thick and fast for the next hour, they might get stuck on the way to town or, if it got heavier later, get snowed in once they were there, and who was there to feed the beasts whilst they were away? He’d allowed for being away one night, wanting Grace’s wedding night to be special for her. It would mean an early start next morning to get back to the animals, but at this time of year there ought to be no difficulty in getting a room in one of the better inns.

He thought about his wedding night as his heart thudded in his throat and his blood left his brain in a rush, heading south.

The idea of leaving a bed that Grace was in while the sky was still dark struck him then.

Idiot.

The roads might be cleared of snow or ten foot high with it, but there was nothing on God’s green earth powerful enough to make him cut their wedding night short. There was no option, then; he’d have to call in on one of his men on the way and arrange for them to tend to the animals. Then at least they’d be cared for if the roads were too bad.

Today’s plan was simple. They’d leave in the dark, hopefully long before whatever poor blighter was being paid a pittance to keep an eye out for Grace felt any desire to leave his warm bed.

Ned knew there was someone.

Though he’d hoped he was wrong, he had evidence now. He’d kept the knowledge to himself for fear of frightening Grace, but Ned had seen the signs. The ground was frozen solid, or he’d have noticed before. It was hard to hide footprints on a muddy farm, but not in this frigid weather. It was also hard to hide the cloud of a man’s breathing in the cold, even if he’d ducked behind the pig shed and kept his head down. The stupid bastard had smoked a pipe, though, and Ned had caught the scent of it, unmistakable on the clean, cold air.

The urge to grab whoever it was by the neck and shake him was tangible, but Ned resisted. Better the devil grew bored and told Carrington there was nothing to see. Happily, the house was at such an angle to the rest of the farm that the windows could not be seen unless you stood in the open yard. Rufus would have raised merry hell if the fellow had dared it, so there was no way he’d glimpsed Gracie.

Gracie.

His heart skittered in his chest.

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