Stormswept (33 page)

Two hands closed over her eyes. She dropped the oilcloth with a shriek.

“Good evening, my lady,” murmured a husky voice in her ear.

“Rhys Vaughan! ” She wriggled away from him. “I swear, if you don’t stop creeping up and frightening the life out of me, I’ll—”

He muffled her words with a long kiss meant to rouse her blood. His face was grimy and he smelled of hay and they were surrounded by curious footmen, but she still responded.

When he drew back, he laughed. “What were you saying, darling?”

She glanced around to find the footmen grinning as they went about their work. “You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever known.”

He chuckled.

With a little sniff, she headed to the last cart, which the footmen were already covering with oilcloth. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were overseeing the haying. Surely they’re not finished.”

He fell into step beside her. “Almost. We worked fast to beat the rain.”

“How did it go?”

“Very well. The farmers were pleased that I joined them, since they’re used to having Moss oversee everything. I’ve come back to fetch the harvest feast. And to fetch you to join us.”

She looked down at her dirt-stained gingham gown and touched a hand to her flushed face. “Like this?”

He laughed. “Believe me, you look a lot better than the rest of us.”

“I’m sure. But they won’t expect me to attend. There’s so much to do, and”—she gestured to the sky that threatened rain—“I don’t know if I want to be caught in that.”

“It’ll hold off awhile longer. Besides, I have reasons for wanting you there this evening. I need your help.”

“For what?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He removed a burlap bag from his saddle, then tossed it into the cart before lifting her onto the perch and climbing up to sit beside her. With a click of his tongue, he started the horses into a walk as the footmen took their places on the carts and fell in line.

She looked over at him. “So, Squire Arrogance, why are you dragging me off to the fields?”

“Thomas Newcome helped us bring in the hay harvest today, and Evan was there, too.”

“They usually are.”

“You told me you wanted to see the boy in school.”

“Yes, but if you’re thinking of talking to Mr. Newcome about Evan, you must abandon that idea. Evan’s terrified
of what his father might do if we try to force his hand.” She caught her breath. “Sometimes I worry that he beats the boy.”

“I imagine you’re right about that.” He stared grimly ahead. “Which is why I don’t intend to talk to him. I have a better method of convincing him to let his son go to school.”

“Oh?” She laid her hand on the seat, only to feel the burlap bag. It squirmed, and she shrieked, yanking her hand back. “What in heaven’s name—”

“It’s all right. It’s just a garden snake, perfectly harmless.”

“A snake! ” She scooted as far away as she could manage. “Why on earth are you carrying a snake about?”

He grinned at her. “Well, my darling, it’s like this . . .”

By the time they’d arrived at the hay field, Juliana was grinning as widely as Rhys. Only he could come up with so devious a plan. She glanced up at the dark sky. Now if only the rain would hold off long enough for them to attempt it.

The workers cheered at their approach, having just finished loading up the hay. As the burdened wagons lumbered off to the barns, Rhys stopped the carts full of food, and the workers crowded round—burly men and stout women, their faces and clothes caked in dust and sweat.

Among them, she spotted a very dirty Evan, his young face aglow, and she was glad she’d come.

Rhys stood up in the cart and said in Welsh, “Good day, friends! ”

“Good day,” the workers echoed, clearly pleased to hear the squire greet them so amiably.

“You’ve done well by me and my wife today,” Rhys continued. “Now it’s our turn to do well by you.” He gestured
to the carts behind him. “There’s mutton with potatoes, pottage, pudding, cheese, spiced fruitcakes, and light ale, compliments of my wife and her excellent kitchen.”

Cheers rose up all around. Sometimes the harvest feast was nothing more than barley bread and salt pork with watered-down buttermilk. So a dinner of costly mutton stew and cheese washed down with ale was considered generous indeed.

Juliana smiled. Rhys was canny in the ways a laborer’s mind worked. Later they’d be saying what a “good fellow” the squire was, “not one of those stingy nabobs who spends all his time in London, but a man who knows how to fill a body’s stomach.”

Rhys made a wonderful squire. As she’d known he would.

Grinning, he handed her down from the cart, and soon they were too engrossed in serving the meal to even speak to each other. He cut slabs of rice pudding as she doled out stew into earthenware basins, then cut hunks of the cheese.

As she worked, she kept a wary eye on the burlap bag she’d tucked under her cloak. Rhys had assured her that the snake wasn’t poisonous, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Once everyone was served and sitting in groups about the field, Rhys came over. The light was failing, and a contented quiet filled the air as some workers ate and others built a fire, surrounding it with stones bared by the reaping.

“Let’s do it now, before the light is completely gone,” Rhys murmured.

They walked to where Evan and his father sat alone. As she and Rhys approached, she flashed them a smile.

“Good evening,” she said brightly, ignoring how Thomas Newcome scowled at her. “I hope the meal is good.”

The father merely grunted, but Evan mumbled, “Very good, my lady,” shooting his father an anxious glance.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Evan. I have some plums I wanted to send back to your mother. If you’ll accompany me to the wagon, I can give them to you.”

Evan looked at his father, who shrugged. “Go on, then. Your ma would like a plum or two, I’ll wager.”

Obediently, Evan stood and began to walk with her. As soon as she heard Rhys saying, “I need to have a word with you about the barley harvest, Mr. Newcome,” she pulled Evan close.

“Do you want to go to school?” she asked.

“You know I do, but Da—”

“Never mind him. Do exactly as I say, and I think your da will be willing to send you.”

She murmured instructions, and as soon as they’d moved as close to the abandoned scythes and as far from the workers as they could while still heading for the cart, she reached under her cloak for the burlap bag.

Glancing around to make sure no one watched, she dumped the snake onto the ground, then let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Every man and woman around jumped to their feet. Even though Evan had been told to expect the scream, he stood there frozen.

“A snake! A snake! ” she cried, shooting Evan a stern glance.

Shaking off his surprise, he ran toward a scythe.

The blasted snake started to crawl off so she had to
do some quick maneuvering to make it look as if it were headed for her.

On cue, Rhys started running from across the field. Then Evan returned with the scythe and chopped down, cutting the head off the snake just as Rhys reached them.

Feigning tears, she collapsed into Rhys’s arms. “It was coming for me . . . oh, Rhys, it was dreadful! ”

“My God, ’tis an adder,” Rhys said as he peered at the dead snake.

“An adder,” murmured the men crowding in around her.

“You might have been killed, my darling.” He stared at Evan. “You saved my wife’s life, lad.”

Evan beamed, thoroughly caught up in the deception.

“What happened?” Mr. Newcome asked as he approached. “What happened?”

“Your son has saved my wife’s life,” Rhys repeated.

Juliana continued to shake, her trembling real this time. The most important part was still to come.

“God have mercy. A snake! Did my boy kill it?”

“Yes, thank God,” Rhys said. “The reaping probably flushed him out.” Releasing her, he bent to point out some faint markings on the snake’s head. “You can clearly tell it’s an adder.”

Mr. Newcome nodded sagely. Vipers were rare in Wales, so he’d probably never seen one. And in the fading light, he wouldn’t be able to tell much anyway.

Another man bent to examine the snake. “One bite from this and milady would have been dead in an instant.”

Juliana reminded herself that their trick was for a good cause.

Rhys straightened. “For this, Newcome, your son deserves a reward.”

Mr. Newcome’s face brightened. “He does?”

“I am forever in his debt for saving my beloved wife.” Rhys clapped his arm about Evan’s shoulder. “Juliana tells me you’re an intelligent boy, that you could make your mark in any school. How would you like to go to Eton, if your father will allow it?”

The stunned expression on Mr. Newcome’s face was matched by Juliana’s. Eton? That was exceedingly generous, far better than she’d dreamed.

Evan stared up at Rhys in wonder. “You’d send me to school, sir? Do you mean it?”

“Aye. ’Tis the least I can do.”

“But isn’t Eton that grand school for the sons of rich men and lords? Are you sure I could manage there?”

“If my wife thinks you’re ready, I’m sure you are. But if you’re worried, she would no doubt be willing to tutor you for the rest of the summer, so you won’t be lacking.”

“Hold on here,” Mr. Newcome burst out. “The rest of the summer? Send him away to this Eton place? The boy has to work the farm. He can’t be going off to some bloody English school! ”

The frosty gaze Rhys leveled on Mr. Newcome was so quintessentially aristocratic, it would have made any English nobleman proud. “Are you refusing to let me repay your son for what he has just done?”

Mr. Newcome paled. “N-No, sir, but what about my farm?”

“You have another son, don’t you? Surely you can spare the younger.”

It was clear from the other men’s scornful looks that they thought Mr. Newcome a fool for not snapping up the squire’s offer.

“Or perhaps the way I’ve chosen to show my gratitude is not to your liking,” Rhys added coldly. “I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want your son to be educated. I’ll just send someone back to the house for my purse.”

“Oh, no, sir! ” Mr. Newcome broke in as the men began to mutter about “stupid fools” and “those who looked a gift horse in the mouth.” “Whatever you see fit to do is . . . is fine. I’m very grateful you would honor my son this way.”

Evan and Juliana both let out a breath.

“Good,” Rhys said. “Then Evan shall start spending half a day at the house until it’s time for the Michaelmas term. I will, of course, pay for all his expenses.” He softened his tone. “And you might consider, Mr. Newcome, that if your son succeeds at Eton, he’ll one day bring the family a far greater income than he could ever bring as a farmhand.”

Mr. Newcome cast a startled glance at Juliana. “Do you think he’s really that bright, milady?”

She smiled. “Evan is the most brilliant child I’ve ever seen. He will do you proud.”

“So it’s settled.” Rhys thrust his hand out to the older Welshman.

Juliana held her breath until Mr. Newcome took it. “Aye, sir. It’s settled.”

The poor man wore a look of dazed confusion. Tomorrow he’d be much more unhappy about all this. But if he was as proud as he’d always seemed, he wouldn’t go back on the agreement he’d made before his neighbors.

As Rhys led the man off to discuss the details, she went to Evan’s side. He was looking a bit dazed himself. Perhaps they should have given him more warning about what they intended to do.

She laid her hand on his shoulder. “You do
want
to go to Eton, don’t you?”

He shook himself. “More than anything.”

“You know it means you’ll be living away from home most of the year.”

“Aye. I don’t know how Da will manage.”

“Let the squire take care of your father. And don’t forget what I told you. If you ever need me for anything—” She drew a sharp breath. “If your father should try to punish you for this, you tell me, all right?”

“I will, thank you.”

“ ’Tis the least I owe to the boy who saved my life,” she teased him.

But he looked solemn. “ ’Tis you and the squire who have saved me, my lady. I will always remember that.”

“Evan! ” shouted his father. “Come on, m’boy, we’re going home.”

“Go on,” she murmured, chucking him under the chin.

As he walked off, a smile spreading over his face, she called out, “I’ll give you a day’s respite, but I expect you to be ready to go right to work day after tomorrow, you hear?”

“Aye, my lady! ” he called back.

As the Newcomes left, Rhys picked up the snake with a stick and tossed it into the fire. “We don’t want anyone examining that too closely.”

“I suppose not.” She laughed. “What you did just now was wonderful.”

He slung his arm about her shoulders. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

“Yes, but Eton?” She stared up at him as he led her back to the cart. “Aside from the expense, I’m surprised you chose an English school.”

He was silent a long moment. Someone had brought out a fiddle and was playing a dance as couples rose, flushed with ale and ready to extend the celebration into the night.

When he spoke, he had to raise his voice over the music. “Much as I hate to admit it, there are no schools in Wales that can prepare someone as gifted as Evan.” He looked back at the dancing couples, whose fire-lit shadows made them appear larger than life. “But perhaps one day . . .”

She stood with him, watching a man caper here, a woman twirl there, their bodies extensions of the leaping flames. “ ’Tis better for him to go to England anyway, where his father can’t hurt him.”

“There are worse things than physical pain,” he murmured, and she knew he meant his years of exile. Then he shook off his brief melancholy. “Well, wife, now that you’ve been saved from certain death, shall we celebrate the harvest with our friends?”

She grinned. “I’d like that. Nothing builds a woman’s hunger so much as playing the damsel in distress.”