Page 52 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
Opening the door, she was struck first by how dazzling the sky had become. The clouds had gone entirely, leaving an expanse of brilliant blue and, though still low on the horizon, the sun was shining brightly.
It was hard to believe the mist had ever existed.
The snow, however, was another matter. It must have long-since stopped falling but it lay deep outside—almost to her knees, and drifting deeper either side of the door. She could see where Rye had pushed his way through the powder, making a channel which led off to where he’d stabled the stallion.
Damn!
She could hardly throw the pan’s contents from where she stood. He’d be bound to see the result. Unless she did so and then scooped some snow to cover over the tell-tale yellow.
As she was pondering the best approach, there was a deep, rumbling groan from just beyond the threshold—a lowing, throaty, bovine bray that concluded with the appearance of a huge, shaggy head in the doorway.
The pan seemed to leap from her hand at the same moment as she let forth an almighty scream. The monster, undeterred, pushed its nose forward.
Ursula screamed again, although more with surprise than horror. The beast was an alarming shade of orange and its horns were certainly fearsome, but it was only a cow.
“Out!” She shoved back against its wet snoot. “Off! Go! Skidaddle!”
“Ursula! You alright in there?” Rye’s voice drifted over from somewhere behind the cow.
“Yes. Absolutely fine.” She gritted her teeth.
“A grand dame of a critter, ain’t she?” He gave the cow a slap across the behind, followed by another, making the creature turn its head and shamble round. Another prod and it shuffled off through the snow, lowing disconsolately.
When Rye came into view, he was holding the pan. “Were you throwing this?”
“Of course not! I was just…” She scowled. “It doesn’t matter. Just give it to me!”
“Keep your petticoats straight.” He gave her a grin. “We should move out while we can. Snow’s too deep for them to send the carriage. Train’ll be coming in about now anyways. We can say you came in on it and I found you waitin’. No-one’ll be any the wiser that we spent a glorious night together.”
“We did no such thing!” A flush of heat rose to Ursula’s cheek.
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t remember?”
Ursula frowned. She was certain nothing had happened but she’d been very sleepy. He’d promised to be gentlemanly, after all, and everything she’d seen of him so far seemed honourable.
“My apologies, Miss Abernathy.” He must have realized her anxiety for he stepped forward and touched her shoulder. “I’m just teasin’. Your virtue’s intact. I kept you warm; that’s all.”
“Of course.” Ursula smoothed down her skirts and shrugged off his hand. “I knew that all along.” Her tone was more clipped than necessary.
They’d overstepped boundaries in the forced intimacy of the night and, for that, Ursula blamed herself.
It might have been the pounding in her head, or the embarrassment she was feeling, or anxiety over what awaited her that day, but Ursula felt a hollow nausea as he helped her back onto the horse.
A flock of crows rose,cawing above Castle Dunrannoch.
It loomed sheer from the white expanse of the moor—a forbidding edifice of granite, its crenellated towers and sentry walks surrounding a central gate. Far off, to the north and west, mountains soared upward, snow-topped and formidable.
The castle didn’t look as if it would have a great deal of comforts, and Daphne’s warnings came to mind, of draughty corridors and fireplaces that refused to draw. Ursula could put up with many things, but she hated being cold. The idea of visiting Daphne at her own castle residence had seemed rather a lark. Gazing up at the fortress before her, Ursula felt altogether differently.
This was where she’d be spending the festive season—not in London, with the gaiety of shops and colourful street illuminations and every sort of fancy to tempt one. And not with her father.
No one here meant anything to her; nor she to them. It was a sorrowful thought.
Meanwhile, an awkwardness had fallen between her and Rye. He’d said barely a word as they’d drawn closer to the castle, passing through the snowy moorland landscape.
“I s’pose it’d be frowned upon for you to arrive at your new place of employ with my arms around you.”
She couldn’t see his face but he squeezed his elbows inward, making her aware of how closely she was tucked into his chest.
