Chapter 18
The autumn sun was setting as Riordan arrived at the Walsh farm. It was November third; the air held a decided chill and most of the leaves had fallen. He was exhausted, not only from the journey, but from the drama and emotions his marriage announcement had stirred up. Over brunch before he left, he expounded in great detail everything he’d implemented within the schoolroom and the successes he had garnered.
His grandfather had instructed Martin to take copious notes as Riordan spoke, and by the time he’d concluded it was well past the hour for departure. His farewell with his father was cool but civil. Julian’s harsh words were a heavy weight on Riordan’s mind. But he was determined to follow his own path, and hopefully his father would come around to his way of thinking. The men all agreed, finding Aidan was a top priority, and Garrett volunteered to begin the search in earnest by hiring an ex-copper friend of his.
A shiver traveled down Riordan’s spine. From the rain shower he’d been caught in? Perhaps. He had sought temporary shelter at an inn, but his clothes were still damp. No, the shiver had more to do with Aidan. They shared a bond, but it wasn’t as if they shared emotions and pains, like the fictional characters in The Corsican Brothers by Alexandre Dumas. Yet Riordan could not deny that there were instances when he sensed something was not right with Aidan. He sensed it now.
Truthfully, he should be assisting Garrett in finding his brother. But other responsibilities pulled him in a conflicting direction. With the colder weather growing ever closer, he doubted he would be given any further personal time for trips to Wollstonecraft Hall and beyond. He had implored Garrett to keep him apprised of any developments.
Farmer Walsh raised a hand to greet him. Riordan pulled up on the reins, then slid off his horse. Patting the gelding’s neck, he said, “Grayson has had quite a workout. I hastened his pace part of the way. He’s lathered, weary, and, I imagine, hungry.”
Farmer Walsh took the reins. “I will see him well looked after, sir. A rubdown, your special mix of oats, and plenty of water. Will you stay for a mug of tea?”
Riordan released the strap that held his small valise on Grayson. “It is tempting, but I should head for home and—”
The sharp, piercing cry of an animal came from the nearby barn. A desperate howling. “What is that?”
“Oh, Charlie chose a kitten from the barn cat’s litter weeks ago. Brought it in the house and trained it, but the wife has taken to sneezing and the like, so the animal has been banished to the barn.” Farmer Walsh scratched his whiskery chin. “Got to find a new home for it; it’s useless as a barn cat. Won’t survive.”
Kitten. The lonely mewing cut straight to his heart as he recalled Sabrina sadly relaying the fact that she’d not been allowed to have a pet. Should he? It was an impulsive thing to do. “How much for the kitten? I believe my bride would welcome a pet.”
“Nay, sir. No charge at all. You pay me far above what is expected for boarding a horse, and Charlie thinks the world of you. Never seen him so keen to go to school. Unlike most of my neighbors, I believe an education is important. Wish I had one.” The farmer chuckled. “Though I don’t see how this type of learning benefits a farmer.”
“There is a saying in Latin, ‘ars gratia artis,’ which means ‘art for art’s sake.’ Learning for learning’s sake. Are you interested in having your son become something beyond a farmer, as wonderful as that is? Perhaps a doctor or a solicitor?”
“Aye. I want my son to have more opportunities.”
“Only with learning and knowledge can this happen. Instilling a sense of wonder and awe.” Riordan smiled.
“Aye. Awe. I’m learning too, as Charlie tells us all you’ve taught him every night at supper.”
Riordan was humbled by the words. To be given proof that his way of teaching was having an impact on his students’ lives—and their parents’—was more than he could ask for. “Thank you, Farmer Walsh. Then it’s all worthwhile, isn’t it?”
“That it is, sir. Come into the barn with me while I see to Grayson. You can meet the kitten. Charlie called her Mittens, but I imagine your missus can call it whatever she wants.”
Riordan placed his luggage on the ground and followed Farmer Walsh in. The warmth from the barn drove off the chill from his bones, and the familiar odors of hay, horse, and leather reminded him of home. “Are you sure Charlie will not mind parting with his pet?”
“He said he’d prefer she has a good home, and he’ll be thrilled you took the kitten in rather than anyone else.” He pointed to the far corner. “She’s there. Once I put Grayson in his stall, I’ll see if the wife has a closed hamper you can borrow. In fact, I’ll see you home on the wagon, sir. You’ll need the basket the kitten slept in, the container she does her business in, the sand….”
Riordan laughed. “I will accept the ride gladly.”
He walked to the small pen. Huddling and shivering in a pile of hay was a white kitten with patches of orange across its small body. She looked up at him, her green eyes full of misery. Leaning down, he gathered the frightened kitten in his arms, expecting a hiss and a scratch for his efforts. Instead, Mittens burrowed close to his chest and mewed softly. Already he was taken with the small feline; he hoped Sabrina would be as well.
By the time they left the Walsh farm darkness had blanketed the sky, the moon and stars their only guide. Mrs. Walsh gifted Riordan with a fresh loaf of bread and a raisin pie. The kitten had mercifully stopped yowling. As they pulled up to the cottage, the door swung open and Sabrina stood on the threshold. Farmer Walsh elbowed him. “Your young bride is happy to see you, sir.” The farmer gave him a wink.
Was she? As usual, her expression was shuttered, though the light from the parlor illuminated her enough that he was able to see a small smile curved about her lovely lips. God. His heart leapt at the sight of her. He was tempted to jump down from the wagon and run to her, pull her into his arms, kiss her with every scorching sensation tearing through him. Tamping down his arousal, he slid from the bench seat and assisted Farmer Walsh in unloading the wagon. Holding out the pie as an offering, he approached Sabrina and kissed her on the cheek. “From Mrs. Walsh.”
“How kind,” she murmured. More loudly she said, “Farmer Walsh, do thank your wife. Kind of both of you.”
The farmer touched his forelock and carried the items into the cottage. After saying their goodbyes, Sabrina and Riordan were left alone in the parlor. Riordan reached for the covered basket and held it out toward her. “For you. I thought you would like a little company during the afternoons.”
Her brows furrowed as she took the hamper and lifted the lid. A loud meow emitted from it. She gasped, then dropped the lid. Thrusting it in his hands, she turned and fled.
Damn it all. What had happened? Then it struck him. She was overwhelmed. He placed the basket on the floor. “Stay. We will be returning.” Pulling off his coat and muffler, he tossed them onto the chaise longue and headed to the bedroom. The door was closed—he tried the handle—but not locked. Turning it, he entered the room and found Sabrina with her back to him, staring at the flames dancing in the small fireplace.
He walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s all right to feel, Sabrina. To show emotion.” He nuzzled her neck, and to his genuine pleasure, she did not shrink away from him.
“No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift before,” she whispered. “Not ever.”
Riordan turned her to face him and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers in order for their gazes to meet. Tears streamed down her cheeks and his heart clenched in response. Cupping her face, he soothingly brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I can convey, based on personal experience, that there is nothing lovelier than reading by the fire with a pet cuddled up next to you. I believe you and Mittens will become fast friends.”
“Mittens?”
“You may name her whatever you wish. Farmer Walsh tells me she is about four months old. Completely trained to use a box of sand for her doings, a house cat in all ways. His wife suffered a form of hay fever and the poor thing was banished to the barn—the kitten, not Mrs. Walsh.”
A small giggle escaped Sabrina.
“Ah. There. The beginnings of a laugh.” He kissed her, but kept it brief. Before he ended it, she actually kissed him in return. A soft pressing, a searching, and he was sorely tempted to take it deeper. Patience. The kiss ended on her sigh, and he pulled her close to his rapidly beating heart.
Sabrina slipped her arms about his waist and embraced him in return. They stood together for interminable minutes, until finally he said, “Shall we introduce Mittens to her new home? She may become distressed if we leave her in the basket for much longer.”
“Thank you again. Only I know next to nothing about having a pet,” she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head, and her enchanting citrus scent surrounded him. He was fully aroused—there was no hiding it, and he didn’t even bother to try. Daringly, he rolled his hips, and his erection pressed closer against her thigh. Sabrina gazed up at him, her expression questioning. “You do this to me every time you’re near, whenever I kiss you or hold you. I cannot control it, nor do I wish to,” he revealed.
“You want me?” Her tone was incredulous.
“Yes. Desperately. But I will abide by your boundaries.” To show that he meant what he said, he released her and took a couple of steps in reverse. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Her gaze rolled over him, lingering on his obvious hard shaft pressing against the fall of his trousers. Then, as her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, she met his eyes. “In the past,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “a man in such a state filled me with abhorrence. With you? I feel…none of it.”
A spark of hope took root deep inside him. “Do you wish to discuss it?”
“Not tonight, but…soon. Perhaps later in the week.”
Riordan would not push her. Instead, he held out his hand. “Let us see your cat settled and find us a bite of supper.”
Another brief, slight smile. And perhaps an expression of relief. Sabrina took his hand and they headed for the parlor. Riordan picked up the basket. Opening it, Sabrina peered in. “She’s beautiful.”
“Take a seat and I’ll pass her to you.” Sabrina did as instructed. Taking great care not to spook the feline, Riordan lifted Mittens from her wicker imprisonment and held her close, speaking in soothing tones to calm the trembling animal. “She’s nervous, no doubt glad to be out of the barn, but not sure where she is and why. Don’t be alarmed if Mittens struggles or lashes out. Don’t take it personally.”
Riordan passed the kitten to Sabrina. The animal stared up at her with its large green eyes as if asking for her love and acceptance. “Go ahead and pet her, scratch under her chin,” he instructed. Sabrina did and was rewarded with loud purring. A brief giggle left her throat and the sound was glorious. “Where shall we set up her bed, here or in your room?”
Still petting the kitten, she gazed up at him. “Oh, my room. Next to the fireplace. What is the other container and the sand for?”
“As I stated earlier, Mittens is a house cat. She cannot be allowed outside on her own. She will be doing her business in the sandbox, and it will have to be cleaned daily. There is a lot of responsibility to having a pet. Are you willing to take it on? If not, I can find another home for Mittens.”
Sabrina hugged the kitten tighter. “No. I will take on the duty of caring for her.”
With a broad smile, Riordan motioned toward the kitten. “Allow her to explore and become acquainted with her new home.”
Sabrina seemed reluctant to let the kitten go, but when she did Mittens immediately moved about the parlor, taking in her surroundings.
“We should have supper.”
Jumping up from the chair, Sabrina clasped her hands together. “Allow me. You’ve had a long journey. Take a seat at the table.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded and hurried toward the kitchen. To be honest, he was fatigued—but not enough to dissipate his arousal. Blast, how could he function in this condition for the next two months? Eventually they would have to talk about it. Her past. Their feelings. And their future. By God, he wanted one with her.
Sabrina hurried toward the table with a plate and utensils and set them before him. “Mrs. Ingersoll brought cold ham slices and salad, easy enough to prepare.” She was pleased with herself. No doubt the first time she had ever waited on someone. “I’ll slice the bread—Mary showed me this afternoon, along with how to cut and serve a pie. Would you care for a glass of cold water from the pump?” She gave him another small smile. “I’ve learned how to use it as well.”
“Thank you, I would.” This from the spoiled woman of the peerage. What strides she had made toward her independence! After a couple of trips to the kitchen area, Sabrina sat opposite. “You probably would have preferred a hot meal.”
Riordan cut into the thick slice of ham. “Not at all. I ate a hearty brunch before departing. This is perfect. Especially served by you.”
“Do you mind if I ask a question?’
“Of course not.”
“Does your father own a factory? Did you attend university? I know next to nothing about you. I would like to learn more.”
Damn. He laid his utensils across his plate. Thus far, he’d managed to deflect her queries with vague truths. How to answer?
“He doesn’t own it, but has an important position. And yes, I did attend university, thanks to the generosity of a peer.” Not a lie; his grandfather had paid for his education at Cambridge. “Frankly, I don’t see why you wish to know more when we will be parting in about two months. I’m not one for talking about myself.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “Well, I only wished to start a conversation. If you would rather not talk about it, then we will not.”
“Not tonight, at any rate.”
Mittens began meowing loudly at their feet. Riordan was grateful for the distraction.
“I should feed her. What does one give a growing kitten?” Sabrina asked.
“Cats need meat, even more than dogs. We must inform Mrs. Ingersoll to add Mittens to the daily meal plans. We used to feed our indoor cats twice a day, meat mashed up with potato and water or milk. Or fish. There are cat meat sellers in the larger cities. They sell horse meat and other scraps especially for cats.”
“Horse meat?” Sabrina cried, clearly horrified.
“Well, yes. Horses that die of injury or old age are often sent to the abattoir, their meat put to good use for other animals.”
Sabrina gave Mittens a strange look.
“She’s a carnivore. If she was an outdoor cat, she would be hunting for her supper. Still want to keep the little beast?” He gave Sabrina a teasing wink.
Her look softened. “Yes. I want to keep her. She’s darling. As are you, for gifting her to me.”
Damn. His heart melted. If he were able, he’d cut open his chest and hand it over to her. For she owned it. Completely. He was in love. Absolutely smitten. It tore him in two that he was keeping secrets, but he was doing it to protect her. Because he loved her. He would not see her hurt for the world. How to convince her that she deserved to be loved more than anyone he’d ever known?