Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(19)

She lifted her arms, wrapped them around his neck and held him, her eyes squeezed shut.

Don’t go, Ethan.

A warm breath fanned across her face, a sigh of relief. “It’s all right, Thea. Let go. I’m heavy, and I don’t want to crush you.”

She tightened her arms around his neck, a distressed sound escaping her lips.

“What, do you suppose I’d leave you here?” A sound brushed against her ear, a soft laugh. “A tempting thought, but without you, I’d run out of apple tarts.” His warm weight disappeared as he eased away from her. “Are you hurt?”

She opened her eyes, peeked up at him from under her lashes, and then shook her head. “No, I—I don’t think so.”

He ran careful hands over her, checking for injuries. She shivered as his palms cradled her neck. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and his skin was warm. And his hands . . . how could such large hands be so gentle? Thea bit her lip to hold in a sigh as his palms slid over her body. He was so close, if she just arched her back the tiniest bit, she’d feel his chest press against hers, and—

“I don’t feel any broken bones.” He finished his inspection and pulled away. “Stop crying, Martha. Miss Sheridan is fine. She’s just had the wind knocked out of her. Boys, tend to your sister.”

“Aw, come on, Martha. Stop yer carrying on, ye peahen.” Despite his harsh words, George’s voice was trembling. “Miss Sheridan’s aw right, isn’t she, lordship?”

“She is.” He was looking down into her face, but it was too dark for her to see his eyes. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his voice was strained.

“Hold onto me.” He slid one hand under her knees and the other around her back.

Thea gasped as the ground fell away beneath her, and her gasp was echoed by Martha, who stopped crying at once and stared at Ethan, her jaw hanging open. “D’ye see that? That lordship just picked up Miss Sheridan like it were nothing!”

“So?” George huffed. “What of it? I’d ’a done the same, if I were bigger and stronger.”

Martha sniffed. “Ye’ll never be as big and strong as ’im.”

“Eth—that is, Lord Devon.” Thea squirmed in his arms. “This isn’t necessary. Put me down. You’re upsetting the children.”

“No.” Twigs snapped under Ethan’s boots. “The children will survive, and it is bloody necessary. You had a bad fall.”

“So did you!”

He glanced down at her, and a faint smile drifted over his lips. “Ah, but I landed on something soft, whereas you, well . . . something hard landed on you.”

Hard, yes. Deliciously hard. He’d said she wouldn’t enjoy the outcome if he had to fetch her from the tree himself, but that wasn’t quite true.

But for all she knew, he could be injured. No one had checked him for broken bones. “But it’s a mile or more back to the house! You can’t carry me that whole way. I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

Even as she said it she couldn’t help noticing he hadn’t once broken stride, and he didn’t appear to be struggling to carry her, or at all winded. She let her hand trail just the tiniest way over his shoulder, and her palm met nothing but hard muscle.

My goodness.

“You seem to be under the impression you’re in charge here, Miss Sheridan. Allow me to correct you. I will carry you the whole way, and before you think to argue with me,” he added, when her mouth opened. “I’ll remind you I’m the earl, and I won’t be trifled with.”

Oh, for pity’s sake. Whenever he took to reminding her he was the earl, there was no point in arguing with him.

Thea looked over his shoulder at the children, who were walking behind them, their arms full of evergreens. They were whispering to each other, their gazes fixed on Ethan’s wide back. “Henry, George, take Martha’s hand.”

“Aw, do we have to, Miss Sheridan? She’s aw right.”

“Do as Miss Sheridan says at once,” Ethan said, in as lordly a tone as Thea had ever heard him use. “It’s dark, and we don’t want to lose anyone.”

There was a pause, then a meek, “Yes, sir—er, I mean, yer lordship.”

No one said another word until they reached the house. The boys ran ahead to open the door for Ethan, and he carried Thea through the entryway into the study, and placed her carefully on the settee in front of the fire.

The children stood in the doorway, watching with wide eyes until Ethan turned to them. “What were you three urchins doing before Miss Sheridan took you out to hunt for mistletoe?”

“We was making paper decorations,” Henry replied.

“Very well. Go do that, then.”

“They need their tea.” Thea began to rise from the settee. “They must be hungry—”

Ethan laid a hand on her shoulder. “Sit back down. Miss Sheridan is going to rest for a moment or two. I don’t suppose you three have any objection to that, do you?”

“No, lordship.” All three children shook their heads.

“Very good. If you’re hungry, eat whatever sweets are left in the kitchens.”

“Hurrah! Lordship says we can have sweets for tea!” The three children vanished from the doorway and charged down the hallway, the sound of their thundering feet fading as they ran toward the kitchens.