A Rose in Winter (11 page)

Erienne was not at all certain she wanted Farrell to see her in Christopher's company and was almost relieved to find him absent from the common room until she remembered Molly coming to the Yankee's room to serve him pleasure. Chewing her lip, she looked wonderingly toward the stairs, afraid that the woman was doing a like service for Farrell.

Erienne became aware that Christopher was watching her, and when her eyes came around to meet his, the depths of the North Sea could not have been colder than those eyes of blue-violet. She expected a mocking leer. Instead his smile bore a trace of compassion. Yet the idea that he could be pitying her or any of her family infuriated her. Mutely fuming, she slid into the chair Allan held for her.

Christopher assisted Claudia into the seat on the other side of him, and Erienne grew extremely vexed when he took for himself the one next to her own. To be within close proximity of the man was agonizingly distasteful to her past, present, and no doubt future state of mind.

In the manner of one accustomed to taking authority, Christopher ordered food to be set before them and a light wine poured for the ladies. He tossed down payment, and Allan seemed content to let him have the honors. When the feast was presented, Claudia condescended to doff her hat but carefully patted her hair in place before delicately sampling the fare.

The door opened, and Erienne blanched as her father strolled in. She had her back to him and didn't dare glance around as he swaggered to the bar. He slapped down coin for ale, then having received a tankard, leaned against the planks to glance about the room as he sipped. He spewed out the contents of his mouth in a rush when his eyes came upon Erienne and Christopher sitting at the same table. With stumbling gait, he half ran across the room, drawing all eyes to him. Erienne heard him coming and her heart leapt for fear. Avery was past the point of caution and failed to see anything beyond the fact that his daughter was willingly accepting the attentions of his fiercest foe. He rudely clasped her arm and hauled her out of the chair, while Claudia smirked behind a glass of wine.

"Ye evil little wench! Coin' behind my back again wit' this Yankee bastard!" Avery loudly berated. "I swear to ye 'twill be the last time ye do!"

The mayor brought his fist around with enough force to break his daughter's jaw, and Erienne tried to brace herself, certain the blow would fall with brutal force, but once again her faithful protector was there close at hand. With a flare of rage, Christopher shot out of his chair and caught Avery's wrist in a painfully tight grip, jerking him away from his daughter.

"Take yer filthy hands off me!" the portly man bellowed, attempting to gain his freedom, but the strong, broad hand held him fast.

Christopher's tone was deadly calm. "I beg you to consider your actions, Mayor. Your daughter came here with the sheriff and Miss Talbot. Would you insult them by such a display?"

As if coming from a fog, Avery became aware of the other two who also sat at the table. Red-faced, he hurriedly stuttered an apology, and Christopher released his hold, curbing the urge to give a short, backward thrust as he did so. He would have enjoyed seeing the man sprawl on his backside.

Avery caught hold of his daughter's arm again and hastened her toward the door. "Ye go on home now and cook me some vittles. I'll be home after I've had me one or two."

The door slammed behind her. Turning, Avery hitched up his breeches, glared about at those who still stared, and returned to the bar.

With tears of humiliation stinging her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, Erienne ran home. She wished now that she would not have allowed herself to be goaded by Claudia's glowering threat. The disgrace she had suffered in the inn would make it extremely difficult to hold her head up in front of the haughty woman.

Then there was the other matter. Claudia was almost vicious in her ambition to be the unrivaled and heralded beauty of the North country, and to gain that end she used her tongue to slander, abuse, or destroy without the least regard for truth. Like a whip, her tongue had the ability to make one writhe in agony. Erienne had no doubt the woman would well flay her reputation in her absence, and Claudia would paint a wildly distorted vision for the Yankee's eyes.

"What do I care?" Erienne mumbled miserably. "Claudia and Mr. Seton were most certainly made for each other."

Chapter Four

IN the eastern sky, shafts of vibrant color radiated from the dawning sun and thrust through the mottled clouds, bathing the white-faced cottages of Mawbry with a rosy hue. Morning's blushing light penetrated the crystal panes of Erienne's chamber windows, rousing her from a restless sleep. She groaned and snuggled her head beneath the pillow, deriving no pleasure from the prospect that they must seek out another suitor in Wirkinton. She knew her father could not be swayed from his goal, especially since he had found her dining with the Yankee at the inn, and it was useless to delay.

Morosely she dragged herself from the bed and wandered down to the kitchen. Shivering in a threadbare robe, she stoked the fire in the hearth and swung the large, water-filled kettle over the growing flames. From a corner of the room, she pulled forth a copper tub that had been her mother's and found the last remaining sliver of soap that Farrell had given her. Once he had been thoughtful enough to bring home small gifts from Wirkinton for her, but that seemed ages ago. With each progressing day he took on more of his sire's qualities and remembered less the wise counseling of his mother.

It was a rare occasion indeed when she was allowed to travel beyond Mawbry or its surrounding countryside, and though the reason for going was definitely unappealing, she still groomed herself carefully and wore her best attire. At least no one in the port city could have grown bored with seeing the plum velvet gown.

Like any man of gentility, Avery left his daughter outside in front of the inn, there to await the coach while he himself entered the common room. Ensconced in his favorite place and with an ale to sip, he struck up a conversation with the innkeeper, making no effort to lower his tone as he spoke of his intentions to travel to the port city with his girl. Aside from gambling and drinking, exercising his vocal chords seemed Avery's greatest delight. Engrossed in doing so this morning, he failed to notice the tall figure rising from the shadows behind a massive pillar. The front door opened and closed, but Avery gave it no mind as he avidly quenched his thirst.

The crisp wind flirted with the cluster of soft ringlets cascading from the crown of Erienne's head and played with the hem of her skirts while it brought a fresh blush to her cheeks. Ramrod prim and bandbox polished, she was a most fetching sight for any man, many of whom paused after passing and openly glanced back for a second taste of her beauty. The one who was denied her company halted a moment outside the door of the inn and admired the trim, unbustled form. The fact that she had become a forbidden fruit for him only spiced his interest.

Christopher moved forward to stand close behind the young lady's right elbow. Erienne sensed his presence but, thinking it was her father, was slow to respond. As she glanced around, her gaze caught sight of the tall, expensive black boots, and her wonder became questioning surprise. Her head snapped up, and she found herself staring into the handsome and pleasantly smiling face of that one who haunted her.

Christopher tipped his hat and grinned down at her, then clasping his hands behind his back, he gazed up at the sky, where fitful flocks of fleecy clouds gamboled restlessly along on a nor'westerly breeze. "A fairly pleasant day for a ride," he commented. "Though I suspect we might be in for a bit of rain later on."

Erienne ground her teeth, holding a tight rein on her temper. "Out to ogle more women, Mr. Seton?"

"Actually, that isn't my prime purpose this morning," he answered smoothly. "Although I'd be a fool to ignore the sights, such as they are."

She did not miss the meaningful sparkle in his eyes and asked crisply, "Then what is your prime purpose?"

"Why, I am waiting for the coach to Wirkinton."

Erienne clenched her lips against a heated reply. She was appalled that such a coincidence should occur, but since he was well within his rights, she could say nothing. Glancing past his arm, she caught sight of his bay stallion tethered at the hitching post, which suggested that his mode of travel was undergoing a most recent change. Knowing that he had just left the common room where her father had gone, she could assume that Christopher had heard some exchange that had prompted his decision to travel by coach. She flung out a hand to indicate the animal. "You have a mount. Why don't you ride him?"

Christopher's grin was mockingly congenial. "I much prefer the comfort of a coach when I journey afar."

She scoffed. "No doubt you overheard my father say we're on our way to Wirkinton and intend to pester us all the way there."

"My dear Miss Fleming, I assure you that I have a matter of great importance to attend to in Wirkinton." He did not explain that anything to do with her was of primary importance to him. "Of course, your solution is simple," he offered pleasantly. "If you cannot abide my company, you can always stay home. I have no way of forcing you to go."

"We also have business in Wirkinton," she stated, lifting her chin primly.

"Another suitor?" he questioned amiably.

"You ... Oh!" Her deep blush, having naught to do with the wind, gave him quick answer. "Why can't you leave us alone?"

"I have an investment in your family. I seek only what is mine, or at least some recompense should the debt remain unpaid."

"Ah, yes, the debt," she said, sneering. "The money you rooked from my father."

"My dear, I have no need to cheat anyone."

Erienne stamped her foot in protest. "Mr. Seton, whatever else I am, I am not
your
dear!"

A soft chuckle conveyed his delight. "You're the dearest thing I've seen for some time." His gaze swept downward, gliding effortlessly over her rounded bosom and slim waist until it reached the narrow black shoes peeking out from beneath her hem. Erienne immediately wished she had borne the prickly discomfort of her coarse woolen cloak instead of leaving it lay across her satchel, for his careful scrutiny left no curve untouched. Indeed, his close attention seemed to peel the very cloth away. When his eyes returned to meet hers, her cheeks were hot with indignation. "Aye." He smiled into her glare. "You are a sweet, dear thing indeed."

"Do you always undress a woman with your eyes?" she inquired sharply.

"Only those I have a yearning for."

In an irritated huff, Erienne flounced around and tried to ignore him but found the task beyond her means. He was about as easily dismissed from mind as a black panther at heel. There was, however, a way to protect herself from his relentless regard. Taking up the cloak, she spread it about her shoulders and warned him off by a wordless glower when he reached a hand toward her to lend assistance.

Giving a lazy shrug of his wide shoulders, Christopher smiled and withdrew his hand. Erienne concentrated on tying the cords at her throat and was not aware that he had drawn much nearer until his whisper brushed close against her ear, sending a warm, tingling shiver through her.

"You smell as sweet as jasmine on a summer's night."

Erienne snatched the hood up over her head, afraid he would notice the gooseflesh he had raised. Totally aware of his presence, she remained cautiously silent until the coach halted before the inn. The driver climbed down, and wiping his dry lips, he announced to the occupants of the coach that there would be a short delay, then turning, strode purposefully toward the common room. A portly fellow and his tall, thin companion plowed their way between the waiting couple, forcing them to step quickly aside or be trodden down underfoot.

When Erienne could reach her satchel again, it was already clasped in her adversary's hand. She raised a stern brow of disapproval, but Christopher awaited her with an amused patience that made resistance a simple, threadbare sham. Pointedly ignoring him, she lifted her skirts to step aboard and immediately felt his hand beneath her elbow aiding her ascent. He tossed her valise into the boot as she settled in the interior, then strode off, making Erienne crane her neck in an effort to see where he was going until he came back leading his horse. Quickly she pressed back in the seat, regaining her lofty air before he could take note of her interest. After securing the animal's reins to the rear of the boot, he climbed in and took the seat directly opposite her.

The other passengers, having satisfied their thirst and their various needs, came trooping back to the coach. Avery was the last to emerge from the inn, and being in high spirits, stepped sprightly to the carriage door. However, when he caught sight of their traveling companion, his jaw plummeted. Blustering in indecision, he stamped and fumed until finally, having no other choice, he joined them. Taking a place beside his daughter, he gave her a withering glare, making it obvious that he suspected her of inviting the man.

The wheels splashed through a large puddle as the coach swung onto the road, and Erienne leaned back, bracing herself against the jolting ride. The countryside along the way failed to hold her interest, for the presence of Christopher Seton wiped everything else from her mind. His gaze was persistent and touched her warmly. A smile was in his eyes and on his lips. Even in her father's company, he was completely at ease, not caring that the older man's scowl darkened progressively at the close attention he gave to the daughter.