Page 6 of A Fearless Heart
Cady stood politely until they all left. Her body was clamoring at her to run, to get out of the house, to escape into open air. But ladies did not run. And anyone who saw her running would know something was wrong.
“Just walk calmly,” Cady told herself as she fetched her cloak. But that wasn’t what her feet were doing. Heart pattering, and sweat beading on her forehead, she pushed open the glass doors and bolted into the gardens. She took a breath, and another and another, until she realized that she was gasping for air and sounded like a drowning fish. Her heart thudded against her rib cage. Surely this was what dying felt like? She couldn’t take this much longer.
Verging on panic, Cady darted toward the Italian garden, where the high border of boxwoods formed a green wall that would hide her from prying eyes.
But just as she turned on the gravel path, past a massive yew, she ran smack into something solid and fell backward, her palms hitting the gravel hard.
There was not supposed to be anything on this path.
Gasping, she looked up at the figure of a black-haired man she’d never seen before in her life.
“You all right, miss?” he asked, offering a hand to help her to her feet.
Feeling as though the whole world had been knocked off its axis, Cady gazed at him, wondering where he’d come from. Such a big man couldn’t have been on the grounds without her noticing…could he?
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Chapter 4
Cady’s whole universe narrowed totake in the figure standing above her. She had to look up, and up, to do so. He was well over six feet, with very broad shoulders to fill out the rough brown leather workman’s coat he wore. Above the collar, black-as-soot hair fell in waves around a face that was quite handsome, considering it was a little dirt-smudged and quite unshaven, with a short black beard shadowing his chin and jaw. His eyebrows were just as black as his hair, which made his eyes even more noticeable. They were the blue of a summer lake, that deep, pure blue without any gray to muddy it.
Angels probably had eyes that blue.
“Oh, my lady!” called Mr Rundle, hurrying up to them both. “I thought you were still inside with your guests! I was waiting till you were done to see about hiring this man as a new gardener.”
“Gardener?” Cady echoed, looking at the stranger more closely. He wore plain but sturdy clothing, and his boots were certainly muddy enough. “Is that what you’re doing here?”
He nodded, explaining, “My name’s Gabe Court. Mr Rundle suggested I walk through the grounds a bit while we waited for you. I didn’t expect to meet the lady of the house quite like this, though.”
Smiling, the man again offered to help her up. Cady lifted her own hand, and felt a deep shock when her skin met his.
Her nerves tingled at every point where he touched her, and her heartbeat trebled in half a second, unsure of how to deal with this overload of sensation. He pulled her to her feet, and she stared up at him, trapped by a blue-eyed gaze that sent waves of embarrassed heat all though her limbs. How could she be so affected by a mere touch?
Cady retracted her hand. Of course! She wasn’t wearing gloves, and he apparently didn’t own any himself. With a start, she realized that this man might be the first person besides her maid to touch her bare skin in nearly a year.
“Erm, perhaps we should go inside for this interview, my lady?” Rundle suggested, shivering in the brisk wind. The fact that he framed it as a question rather than just herding her in was probably due to a stranger’s presence.
Cady nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. Your office, Rundle, if you please.”
She trailed after the butler, acutely conscious of the figure following. He must weigh as much as three of her.He’dhave no trouble managing a pair of wolfhounds, even if they were tearing at their leashes. At that thought, she glanced over her shoulder…and was alarmed to note that he was looking directly back at her, his eyes unapologetic and definitely not deferential. Part of her knew she ought to be offended. Her father had detested servants who didn’t know their place (actually, he’d detested anyone who didn’t know their place). But another part of Cady was still remembering how it felt when his hand grasped hers. She quickly turned to face the front again.
Rundle’s office, in the hallway just off the kitchens, was snug and very warm, and Cady was grateful to be inside.
“His references, my lady,” Rundle said, handing a few sheets of paper to her.
Cady read through them, and noted a distinct lack of detail. “Mrs Hartley here doesn’t say much about what youdidon their property.”
“Oh, whatever needed to be done,” Mr Court said easily.
She frowned, wondering if she was missing something. His tone was just a little…mocking?
“How long have you worked as a gardener? Did your past positions include work in formal gardens, or more kitchen gardens and herbs and crops for home consumption? Calderwood has both French and Italian gardens, a sunken garden, a rose garden, in addition to the usual. You do know about this estate, yes? Calderwood is famous for its gardens, since the first countess brought in one hundred specimens from the Holy Land and planted them in the first walled garden. The work requires considerable expertise.”
He looked annoyed for a second (at himself, Cady thought), then he sighed. “The truth is, miss—”
“Address her asmy lady,” Rundle whispered in alarm, as if Cady might not hear the mistake.
“My lady,” the man said, “the truth is that I saw a post for a gardener or groundskeeper, and I need a job.”
