Page 135 of Snowbound Surrender
“Nia always wanted to celebrate Christmas,” he muttered. “No one ever found the time.”
“What was that?” she came up beside him so quickly that her deep purple riding skirts whirled around her, and he caught himself before he revealed anymore.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. Ah, Carver, there you are!” Relief filled him as the groom came into sight. “Prepare…” He looked over at Scarlett, who stared at him with a look of such hope that he gave in with a sigh. “The sleigh,” he said. “Prepare the sleigh.”
As much ashe hated to admit it, Scarlett had been right. The sleighwasthe best conveyance to cut through his land. He hadn’t seen her fill the sleigh with anything, but with a quick look at the full bags within it and then a glance over at Scarlett and the satisfaction on her face, told him that this had been her plan from the beginning.
“This was nice of Carver, providing us with a blanket and a warming stone,” she said, though a bit of consternation entered her tone. “He only sent one though. I suppose we will have to share.”
“It’s fine, I’m not cold. Carver’s normally not quite so shortsighted,” he murmured. “I’ll speak with him when we return.”
“Don’t,” she said, placing a gloved hand over his, and when his gaze flew up to hers, she hastily pulled it away. “He’s a nice boy, truly, and I don’t want any trouble. I’m sure he just forgot. We were rather hasty.”
“I suppose,” he said, looking into the distance, seeing the smoke rising from a chimney. “Here’s Thomas and Molly Baker’s house.”
“I know,” she said, and he looked over at her, remembering Stone’s information regarding the money she gave to the families. How often had she been out here?
He pulled on the reins when they reached the drive, and when he turned to help Scarlett out of the sleigh, he was surprised to see that she was already on the ground and making her way down the cleared path in her sturdy black boots. “Bring a basket!” she called to him as she rounded the stone entrance,and just then a little figure came hurtling out the door to greet her.
“Lady Oxford!” the boy cried as he barreled into her while Hunter watched with astonishment. Never in his life had he seen such a sight before. His mother would be utterly horrified if she knew Scarlett was even speaking with the families let alone — was she lifting the boy in the air?
“Fly, birdie!” she cried, and the boy erupted in giggles as she spun him in a circle. He couldn’t have been more than four, he thought, as he watched from the sleigh, finally lifting the cover to reveal a pile of baskets, full of candies and liquor bottles and heaven only knew what else Scarlett had placed inside them. Good Lord, how much had this cost him?
“Bobby, let Lady Oxford come in — it’s freezing out there!” called a laughing voice from the doorway. “Lady Oxford, how lovely to see you!”
“How many times must I tell you, Molly, that Scarlett is just fine?” she said, a grin coming over her face as she made her way around the fenced pig enclosure to the entrance of the small cabin.
Scarlett? The woman who insisted on calling her husband Lord Oxford was telling a common woman to call her Scarlett? Hunter certainly didn’t look down on these people the way many of his class did, but he had never in his life expected Scarlett to hold them in such high esteem. Where was the cold woman he had come to know, who ate dinner in near silence, who hardly spoke to him with the exception of polite conversation when required?
Stunned, he began to follow her up the path, and just when Molly Baker was about to shut the door, she caught sight of him.
“Oh, my lord,” she said, lifting her worn brown skirt as she sank into a curtsy. “My apologies, my lord, I didn’t see you there. We were not aware you were in residence, and thereforewere not expecting you. Not that you require any advance notice. That is — oh dear, I am rambling on. Please, do come in.”
She opened the door wider, and the warmth of the fire in the corner of the small room drew him in. He might have declined to share the blanket, but he had to admit that the chill in the air was beginning to seep into his bones.
“Thank you, Mrs. Baker,” he said with a nod. “My arrival was unexpected, I will admit, but I am pleased to have the opportunity to visit with you.”
“Of course,” she said, turning her head sharply when she heard voices behind her rise in argument. “Children!” she hissed. “Our lord is here to visit. Come say hello.”
Four young ones of various heights dutifully dropped the doll they were fighting over and lined up in front of him, while the boy he had first seen stood beside Scarlett, his fist wrapped around the material of her skirt. The door at the back of the house opened and Thomas Baker walked in, stomping his boots at the entrance to rid them of snow.
“Gads, it’s a frosty one out there, I tell ya, Molly. It?—”
“We have visitors, Tom.”
“My lord! Welcome,” he said with a nod, but when his head turned to Scarlett, ruddy coloring infused his cheeks, which had certainly not been present when his attention had been directed toward Hunter.
“Lady Oxford,” he said, “How lovely to see you. Bobby’s already latched himself to you, has he?”
“He certainly has,” she said with a laugh. “How are you, Thomas?”
“Just fine,” he said. “Though I’ve had to bring the animals into the shelter, as cold as it’s gotten out there. It seems this snow isn’t letting up. Are you sure you should be out in this weather?”
“We’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “We aren’t far from the house.”
Hunter felt as though he were watching a boxing match as his head swung back and forth between them, conversing as thoughshewere the landowner and not him. He should be the one speaking about such with his tenant.
“Thomas,” he said, feeling like an interloper as he cut into their conversation. “Have you a moment to discuss a few matters?”
