She sat in front of him, sharing the horse, since it made more sense than riding two horses and either borrowing a stablehand from Ridlington or leaving the second horse there.
Plus, she admitted to herself that she was more comfortable where she was. A ride, short though it was, might have taxed her tender lower portions. She and James had awoken twice during the night, and she confessed to a certain degree of discomfort after such an energetic few hours.
He held the reins with one hand and her waist with the other, encouraging her to lean against him for balance. Which she was happy to do. It was an odd time, almost unreal, with the rising sun burning its way redly into the sky and announcing with the brilliant blast of colour that more bad weather was probably on the way.
The forest was unusually quiet under its new blanket of snow, and even the birds seemed loth to leave their nests on this chilly morning.
James was a source of warmth and her head fit perfectly into his shoulder, just as his arm fit perfectly around her waist.
Wrapped in their cloaks, they were content to let the horse pick its way down the paths, silently enjoying this moment of private enchantment. At least Letitia felt it was enchanted.
Her body might have been sore, but her mind was elated; she’d found the pleasures of the flesh to be just that. Most pleasurable. James was everything she could have asked for in a lover, and already her mind was spinning around how to introduce these experiences fully into her next novel.
A squeeze of her waist attracted her attention.
“We’re nearly there. Shall we ride to the front?”
“No, I think the kitchen entrance would make more sense…wait…” She frowned. There were lights showing in the conservatory, one of the larger rooms they had yet to restore. “That’s odd. I know Harry was to return through there, but there shouldn’t be lights at this time of the morning. Not in there.” She glanced up at James. “Can you take us around to that door?”
He nodded, guiding the horse through narrow garden paths to the terrace outside the large and un-curtained conservatory windows.
Dismounting, James helped her slide down into his arms. “All right, love?”
Worried, she barely noticed his endearment. “Yes, thank you.” She tried to see through the glass but the inside was foggy. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, let’s see if we can find out what’s happening.” He tied the horse to a shrub and they both walked up to the French doors.
Which opened as soon as they reached them.
“Oh my God,” breathed Letitia, as she walked into chaos. “What the devil…”
Rosaline hurried over. “It’s Paul. He was shot walking Harriet home.”
“Good God.” James closed the conservatory door behind him. “What happened? How is he?”
“Sore, I’ll tell you that.”
The voice emanated from a threadbare and moth-eaten sofa near the fireplace, where a small fire provided some heat to an otherwise icy room. There were bowls of water and unpleasantly stained towels on several tables.
“Paul…” Letitia rushed to his side. “How bad is it?”
“Bastard winged me. Right through my upper arm.” He gestured to the bandage around one forearm with his other hand. “Hurt like the devil, though, I will admit.”
“He was very brave,” said Harriet, walking into the room with a fresh bowl of water and bandages just in time to hear his comment. “He didn’t even know he was shot until I noticed the blood.”
Rosaline took the bowl from Harriet. “We’ve been trying to make sure the wound is clean and free of any debris. Also that he didn’t develop a fever right away. A long few hours, I have to admit. So let’s have one final clean up, Paul, then you can finally rest. You just need a bandage now, I think.”
Paul rolled his eyes and cast a desperate look at James. “Must we, Rosaline?”
“Yes. Stop complaining.” She shot an amused look at Letitia. “You know, we might consider redoing this room as a hospital. This is the second time we’ve treated a gunshot wound here.”
“Oh, I remember. Tom somebody or other,” nodded Letitia. “Yes, let’s not make a habit of it.”
“Letitia…” Harriet came to her side. “You saw nothing on the way here this morning?”
Noticing how pale Harriet was, Letitia took her arm and led her to a side chair. “No, just a magnificent sunrise. It was very quiet. Sit, Harry. Your lack of colour is frightening.”
“She hasn’t slept, Letitia, and…ouch…” Paul called over during his treatment.
Rosaline looked up. “Darling, have Chidwell get some breakfast put together in the salon, would you? They must be up and about by now. Tea, toast, whatever they have. We all need to eat, then Paul must rest and Harry has to sleep.”
A man who had remained silent in one corner, stepped forward. “Do you need me anymore, Ma’am?” He addressed Rosaline.
She nodded. “Yes, Hodgkins, I do.” She finished administering ointment to Paul’s wound and began to bandage it. “I need you to tell us all exactly what happened, and how you came to be on hand. Also I need you to take tea and breakfast with us.”
“Uh…” He seemed nonplussed at Rosaline’s determined tone, “Well…”
“That’s settled then,” she concluded the conversation by standing, and addressing James. “You and Letitia can leave your cloaks somewhere and meet us in the parlour. I’d rather have this story told once, instead of ten times over.” She wiped her forehead with her hand. “Go everyone. I need tea.” She glanced around. “Trust Edmund to be away. He’ll be so cross he missed the excitement.”
