Love in the Afternoon (The Hathaways #5)(63)

“They’re ravished in haylofts?” she inquired hopefully.

Christopher shook his head.

Beatrix’s arms slid around him from behind. He felt the light, stimulating pressure of her br**sts against his back. “Tell me,” she said near his ear, the moist heat of her breath causing the hairs on his nape to prickle pleasantly.

“There were camp prostitutes,” he said, “who were kept busy servicing the soldiers. But they were none too attractive, and they helped to spread any number of diseases through the regiment.”

“Poor things,” Beatrix said sincerely.

“The prostitutes or the soldiers?”

“All of you.”

How like her, he thought, to react with compassion rather than distaste. Taking one of her hands, Christopher pressed a kiss into her palm. “I also had offers from one or two of the officers’ wives who had traveled with the brigade. But I didn’t think it was a very good idea to sleep with another man’s wife. Especially when I might have found myself fighting side by side with him afterward. And then when I was in the hospital, there were a few nurses who were probably persuadable . . . the regular ones, of course, not the ones who came with the Sisters Of Mercy . . . but after the long sieges and rounds of grave digging . . . and then being wounded . . . I wasn’t exactly in an amorous mood. So I waited.” He grimaced. “And I’m still waiting.”

Beatrix kissed and nuzzled the back of his neck, sending a new rush of arousal through him. “I’ll take care of you, poor lad,” she murmured. “Don’t worry, I’ll break you in gently.”

This was new, this mixture of desire and amusement. Christopher turned and put his arms around her, toppling her into his lap. “Oh, you will take care of me,” he assured her, and crushed his mouth over hers.

Later in the day Christopher went with Leo to see the Ramsay estate timber yard. Although the Ramsay timber business wasn’t comparable in scope to the Riverton production, it was infinitely more sophisticated. According to Leo, the Hathaways’ absent brother-in-law, Merripen, was the most knowledgeable about estate forestry, including correct procedures for identifying profitable timber, thinning mixed woods, and planting for regeneration.

In the timber yard itself, several technological innovations had been made at the suggestion of Harry Rutledge, Poppy’s husband. After showing Christopher an advanced system of rollers and run planks that allowed the cut timber to be moved efficiently and safely, Leo walked with him back to the house.

Their talk turned toward the timber market and arrangements with merchants. “Anything to do with the market,” Leo said, “and sales by auction or private treaty, are handled by Cam. He has a better grasp of finance than any man you’ll ever meet.”

“I find it interesting, the way you and your brothers-in-law have divided the areas of the business, each to his strengths.”

“It works well for us. Merripen is a man of the soil, Cam likes numbers . . . and my part is to do as little as possible.”

Christopher wasn’t deceived. “You know far too much about the entire enterprise for me to believe that. You’ve worked long and hard on this place.”

“Yes. But I keep hoping if I feign ignorance, they’ll stop asking me to do things.”

Christopher smiled and focused on the ground before them as they walked, their booted feet crossing into the long shadows cast by the sun behind them. “I won’t have to feign ignorance,” he said, sobering. “I know next to nothing about timber. My brother prepared for it his entire life. It never occurred to me—or anyone—that I would have to fill his shoes.” He paused and wished he had kept that last comment to himself. It sounded as if he were asking for sympathy.

Leo, however, replied in a friendly and matter-of-fact manner. “I know that feeling. But Merripen will help you. He’s a fount of information, and he’s never so happy as when he’s telling people what to do. A fortnight in his company, and you’ll be a bloody expert on timber. Has Beatrix yet told you that Merripen and Win will return from Ireland in time for the wedding?”

Christopher shook his head. The wedding would be held in a month, at the church on the village green. “I’m glad for Beatrix’s sake. She wants the entire family to be there.” A brief laugh escaped him. “I only hope we won’t have a parade of animals marching through the church along with her.”

“Count yourself fortunate that we got rid of the elephant,” Leo said. “She might have turned it into a bridesmaid.”

“Elephant?” Christopher glanced at him sharply. “She had an elephant?”

“Only for a short time. She found a new home for him.”

“No.” Christopher was shaking his head. “Knowing Beatrix, I could almost believe it. But no.”

“She had an elephant,” Leo insisted. “God’s own truth.”

Christopher still wasn’t convinced. “I suppose it showed up at the doorstep one day and someone made the mistake of feeding it?”

“Ask Beatrix, and she’ll tell you—”

But Leo broke off as they neared the paddock, where some kind of commotion was taking place. The squeal of an angry horse rent the air. A chestnut Thoroughbred was rearing and bucking with someone on its back.

“Damn it,” Leo said, quickening his pace. “I told them not to buy that ill-tempered nag—he was ruined from bad handling, and not even Beatrix can fix him.”