Kiss Me, Annabel
Page 54

“Because?” she said, glaring at him.
“Because we might enjoy it.”
“You are cracked,” she said with utter conviction.
“I’d like to be alone with you,” he whispered, taking her hands up to his mouth. “I’d like to watch you make butter.” He kissed her, even though it was breaking the rules of the game, since he hadn’t asked a serious question first. “I’ll show you how to milk a cow,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Well, that’s a mighty enticement,” Annabel grumbled.
The coach had stopped, and Ewan’s outriders were filling the quiet air with boisterous conversation. He could see that Mac was waiting to speak to him.
“Please?” he said, not touching her again.
She bit her lip. “Just for a day or two?”
He nodded.
“Do you really mean all alone? Without my maid?” She looked horrified.
He hesitated. What did he know about ladies? Perhaps she couldn’t get along without a maid.
“Oh, never mind,” she grumbled. “I had no maid for twenty years. I suppose I can survive a day or two.”
He smiled at her. “Your maid can help Peggy when her time comes.”
“But I want my own sheets,” she said suddenly.
Ewan nodded. “Of course. We use our own sheets in inns; why not here?”
“Do you truly wish to stay here all alone?” The idea seemed to both fascinate and horrify her. “It’s so scandalous.” She half whispered it. “We’re not married.”
He nodded, still not touching her. “But we will marry. And we already share a bed every night.”
“Staying here will be good for you,” she said finally, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “I can see that you’ve no imagination, Ewan Poley. None. You’ve no idea how hard it is to live under these circumstances, and I think this will be good for you!”
He swallowed his grin and turned to Mac.
She caught his arm. “I want my trunk with my clothing!” she said urgently.
Ewan nodded. Of course they would wear clothing.
Most of the time.
Twenty-one
Annabel watched the two carriages trundle their way down the road with an overwhelming sense of disbelief. She was standing in the middle of a dusty, deserted little square, and her only companion was a man to whom she was not married.
“I must have lost my mind,” she said, stunned by the truth of it.Ewan looked rather surprised as well. “Mac clearly thinks I’ve lost mine. I should warn you that I’ve never known him to be wrong on any subject. Do you know, I actually had to order him to stay away until the baby is born? I never order Mac to do anything.”
“Perhaps the child will arrive quickly.”
“The shock of entering an inn might do it,” Ewan said. “Peggy looked ready to collapse with excitement.” Her eyes had glowed with fierce joy on being told that she was being sent to an inn and would have a midwife to attend her.
“What shall we do now?” Annabel asked, staring around the clearing.
The forest pressed on all sides rather cozily, as if it were protecting the little houses. Without the outriders and the carriages, there was no sound but some birds in the woods.
“We should milk the cow,” Ewan said. “Kettle said it was overdue for attention. Apparently the animal finds its way to the field and then comes back to its stall when it’s time for milking.”
The cow turned out to be a rusty brown animal with an annoyed look in her eye. She slammed the wall of her stall with her rear hoof by way of greeting.
“She seems annoyed,” Annabel observed. “My father always said to avoid a horse’s stall when they have that look in their eye.”
“She’s annoyed because it’s past milking time,” Ewan said, taking off his coat.
He moved toward her and the cow launched another solid thunk that could easily cave in a man’s chest.
“I would suggest she wait,” Annabel said, backing up a little. “Perhaps she’ll be more accommodating in the morning.”
“Wait?” Ewan said. His hair was all rumpled. He was rolling his sleeves past his elbows. “Cows don’t wait.” He walked into the space next to the stall and began feeling along the wall. “Here it is.”
He slid open the bottom section of the low wall. “Obviously Kettle has himself a cantankerous animal, so he’s fixed it so that he can milk her without being gelded in the process.” Ewan reached his hands through the open space to milk the cow.
“You’re quite good at that,” Annabel said after a time.
“Between the two of us, we can handle the milk,” Ewan said, looking up at her. “I can milk the cow and you can make it into butter. This will be easy.”
“Hmmm,” Annabel said. Ewan’s hair curled into the white linen of his shirt in a very distracting way. “Have you ever cooked?”
“Never!” Ewan said cheerfully. “You?”
“No.”
“ ’Twill be an experiment, then.” He pulled the pail of milk toward him and slid the panel shut. Finally he forked some hay into the manger and they left.
As they walked down the path, Ewan wrapped his free arm around Annabel’s waist. “I’m rather astonished by how improper this is.”
“So am I!” Annabel said, turning her mouth so that his kiss landed on her cheek. “We are not married.”
“Fool that I am,” he lamented. “I should have trotted you off to that bishop before you even combed your hair.”
Annabel could feel her cheeks growing rosy. If anyone knew her circumstances, she would be disgraced. More disgraced than any lady she could remember hearing about in her life.
“Look!” she said. “It’s one of Peggy’s chickens!” A scrawny white chicken missing a number of feathers around its neck was scratching around to the side of the clearing. “There must be a coop. The chickens should go inside for the night. A fox might eat them.”
The chicken looked at them suspiciously. Annabel took a step nearer and it clucked angrily and flew onto a short stump. “That chicken looks like a wild chicken,” Ewan said. “It doesn’t want to go into the coop for the night.”
“There’s no such thing as a wild chicken. We can’t let it be eaten; Peggy only has three hens. Come here, you stupid bird.” She tried clucking to it, but the chicken just turned its bony head and fixed her with an uncivilized eye.
“That is not a tame animal,” Ewan said. “I think—”
But at that moment Annabel made a lunge for the chicken and caught it by one wing. The chicken opened its red throat and squawked as if it were being made into stew on the spot. “Help!” Annabel yelped. “Take it, take it!”
“Absolutely not,” Ewan said, laughing. “Throw it in the coop.”
“Where is the coop?” Annabel asked, looking around wildly.
The woods were falling into peaceful twilight, and Annabel couldn’t see any structure other than the little houses and Kettle’s stable.
The chicken was twisting and snapping viciously. “I think she means to bite you,” Ewan observed. He opened the door to the house. “Here!”