Page 50 of A Momentary Marriage

“Littletree!” Graeme strode over to him. “You’re injured. Sit down, man, no reason to stand on ceremony. Here’s a nice boulder.” He guided the man toward a large rock.

“What happened?” Abby asked. “We came upon the carriage overturned. Mirabelle feared it was Aunt Tessa’s.”

Mirabelle climbed down from the carriage, as well, albeit more slowly, her face creased with worry. “Is Tessa all right?”

“Tessa’s fine,” Laura reassured her. “I was the only one in the carriage. We started down the hill, but something happened to the brake, and the horses ran.”

“It was Binky, my lord; he took off,” Littletree hastened to explain. “I think a bee must have stung him. He started running, and of course Biscuit joined him. I had the brake slipper on, but the chain snapped. You know how it is on a hill like that.”

“Of course,” Graeme agreed. “Even if the brake had held, it couldn’t stop a runaway team. I’m sure you did everything you could, Littletree.” He glanced at Laura. “Were you thrown out here at the river?”

“We jumped when we reached the bridge,” Laura explained. “I thought it would be a softer landing than crashing on the curve.”

“Indeed. Quick thinking,” Graeme said approvingly. “The carriage wound up on its side and lost a wheel. You two might have been killed if you were still in it.”

A violent shiver ran through Laura, only partially from the cold.

“Here,” an imperious female voice said, and Laura turned to see that Graeme’s grandmother, the dowager Countess of Montclair, had joined them. She draped a carriage rug around Laura’s shoulders. “No need to stand about freezing.”

“Thank you,” Laura said in a heartfelt voice, and remembered to give the older woman a little curtsey in greeting. Lady Eugenia was a stickler for courtesy.

“The horses, sir,” Littletree said to Graeme, his expression pleading. “Are they all right?”

“Yes, yes,” Graeme hastened to assure him. “They looked in decent shape. In a lather of course and standing there looking quite lost, but I didn’t see any cuts, and neither seemed to be limping. I left Barrow to look after them, and I drove us on to see what had happened to the people in the vehicle. Thank heavens you were all right.”

“Barrow.” Clearly the idea of Montclair’s coachman seeing to the team lifted much of the weight from Littletree’s shoulders. “That’s good. Thank you, my lord.”

“Now,” Abigail said firmly, “I think it’s time we took these two home and got them cared for.”

“Oh, yes,” Mirabelle agreed, putting her arm around Laura’s waist and leading her toward the carriage.

The others followed. The dowager countess seemed rather taken aback when she realized that Graeme was putting the injured coachman into the carriage with the ladies—as, indeed, did Littletree himself—but Graeme quelled whatever she was about to say with a firm look. Abigail wedged herself into the seat with Laura and Littletree so that the two older women had the forward-facing seat to themselves.

“I don’t know what Sir James is going to say about this,” Littletree said mournfully.

“Nothing,” Laura said firmly. “Because he’s not going to know about it.” Laura fixed the driver with a stern look. “Do you understand? You are not to let a word of what just happened get back to Sir James.”

“But, Laura, James would want to know.” Graeme paused in the act of climbing up into the higher driver’s seat. “No man would want to be kept in the dark if his wife had been in an accident.”

“No doubt he would not,” Laura retorted crisply. “But that doesn’t mean he should. You didn’t see how ill he’s been, Graeme.”

Graeme nodded, his eyes dark with worry. “He’s no better? Abby said—”

“I hope he will improve,” Laura said carefully, mindful of the coachman’s presence and the likelihood of servant gossip. “But I won’t have James fret himself into another fever because of some silly accident that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent.”

“No, you’re right, of course.” Graeme nodded. “We’ll say nothing about it.”

chapter 21

James walked from the bed to the dresser to the far wall and back again. He felt like a fool, tottering around his room like a two-year-old. But Laura was right. He must get stronger; he was useless as he was. So he would eat, though food still was tasteless at best. He would take Laura’s bitter nostrums and drink the blasted milk. He would sleep—he’d already taken two naps since he awoke this morning.

And he would walk in the privacy of his room to regain his strength. At least he had rid himself of Owen after a brief argument over whether Lady de Vere would approve. Fortunately, a desire to remain employed overcame the loyalty Laura engendered in everyone. He had waited until Laura left before he started his treks.

Not that Laura would have been shocked at his weakness. Hell, he’d been flat on his back, it seemed, half the time she’d been here. Still, he had some pride. He had already embarrassed himself this morning when he awoke and found Laura’s soft body snuggled against him—and his own body in a thoroughly aroused state. He’d been dreaming of her, and in that dream Laura was warm and willing, even eager, and he had no longer been ill or weak. He had been himself again, hungry and strong.

But even as the sweet pleasure flooded his body, he had realized how appalled Laura would be to awaken with the unmistakable evidence of his lust pressing against her. She was not only an untouched maiden, but she had made it clear—rather too clear, actually—that gracing his bed was not part of their bargain. James was not the sort of man Laura wanted.

Then he had made the situation even more humiliating by jumping back from her as if he were some maiden aunt. The result was that now he had permanently lost her sweet presence in his bed.