Christmas Wishes by Barbara Metzger

Author:Barbara Metzger [Barbara Metzger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nov. Rom
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The horses were straining in the traces, hurtling into the night. Foley rode silently beside him. No, it was Todd—No, someone else, watching him try to manage the runaway team. He couldn't do it. They were out of control. Then the carriage shaft started creaking, crunching, cracking under the stress of the wild ride. They'd be thrown, or dashed under the horses' hooves, and the passenger just watched. Then St. Cloud felt the wind and waited. His legs must be broken; he couldn't move them. The horses! Someone, help! The passenger laughed and laughed and—

St. Cloud jerked awake, gasping. He could feel the sweat on his bare chest and hear the echoes of distant laughter. The velvet bed curtains were open—and Pansy was sprawled across his legs. "Damn." There was no way the pig could get up on the huge canopied bed herself. St. Cloud even used the low stool. If this was Todd's revenge for having to nursemaid a pig, St. Cloud would have his head come morning. Boxing Day indeed. He'd give the fellow a box on the ears for this night's work. Then again, this was more like Cousin Niles's style of bobbery, foolish since the check was not yet signed. St. Cloud wouldn't even put such a prank past Sydelle, a woman scorned and all that. He sighed. Either way, he was awake.

"Are you hungry, pig? Silly question, you're always hungry. Let's go." St. Cloud lighted his candle and found his robe and new slippers. He also found where Pansy'd eaten her way out of the wicker basket. "At least that explains the crunching noises I heard."

He piled two plates with leftovers from the kitchen and led the pig into his library, where he restarted the fire and settled back on the worn leather chair. Then he heard the noise, a tapping almost like Grandmother's cane, although more regular. That must be Lady Fanny's specter, he thought, getting up to stand closer to the fireplace, where the sound was loudest. There must be a squirrel in one of the disused chimneys, tapping to open a nut or something. Maybe an owl. The noise would carry through all the grates in the place, echoing eerily enough, he supposed, to spook his susceptible parent. He didn't know why Uncle Harmon or the steward hadn't just sent for the sweeps. He'd do it tomorrow.

No, damn it, tomorrow the servants did not work, and he would be busy shaking hands and listening to speeches. Blast. All he wanted to do was get on his fastest horse and ride to find Juneclaire. He wandered toward the window, a glass of brandy in his hand. The snow was still falling, though lightly. Lord, let her be safe and warm.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.