To Beguile a Beast (Legend of the Four Soldiers #3)(13)

Sir Alistair nodded. “That she is.”

“I’ve never seen one so big.” Jamie began stroking the dog again. “What kind is she?”

“A deerhound,” Sir Alistair said. “Her name is Lady Grey. My ancestors used hounds like her to hunt deer.”

“Coo!” Jamie said. “Have you ever hunted deer with her?”

Sir Alistair shook his head. “Deer are rare in these parts. The only thing Lady Grey hunts anymore is sausages.”

Abigail carefully bent and touched Lady Grey’s warm head. She made sure to stay far enough away from Sir Alistair so that she didn’t accidentally brush him. The dog licked her fingers with a long tongue. “She’s still a nice dog, even if it’s only sausages she hunts.”

Sir Alistair turned his head so he could see her out of his good eye.

Abigail froze, her fingers clutching Lady Grey’s wiry fur. She was so close to him that she could see lighter bits of brown like a star around the center of his eye. They were almost gold-colored, those bits. Sir Alistair wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning anymore, either. His face was still horrible to look at, but there was something almost sad about it, too.

She drew in her breath to say something.

At that moment, the outside kitchen door blew open. “Who’s ready for tea?” Mama asked.

HELEN STOPPED SHORT at the sight of Sir Alistair kneeling with her children by the hearth. Oh, dear. She’d rather hoped he’d not discover their return until after she’d made some tea. Not only might a meal pacify him, but she could also use a bite or two before confronting Sir Beastly. Shopping was much harder work than she’d first supposed.

But a respite was not to be. Sir Alistair rose to his feet slowly, his worn boots scraping on the hearth’s flagstones. Goodness! She’d seen him just this morning, but already she’d forgotten how tall he was—how big in general, really, especially standing next to Abigail and Jamie—and how intimidating. That was probably why she was just a little bit short of breath.

He smiled, and the expression made the back of her neck tickle. “Mrs. Halifax.”

She swallowed and tilted her chin. “Sir Alistair.”

He prowled toward her, athletic, male, and rather dangerous. “I confess your presence in my kitchen is something of a surprise.”

“Is it?”

“I believe”—he circled behind her, and she twisted her neck to try and keep him in her sight—“that I dismissed you just this morning.”

Helen cleared her throat. “About that—”

“I’m almost certain, in fact, that I saw you leave in a carriage.”

“Well, I—”

“A carriage I hired to take you away.” Was that his breath against the back of her neck?

She turned, but he was several paces away, by the fireplace now. “I explained to the driver that you’d made a mistake.”

“I made a mistake?” His gaze dropped to the basket she carried in her hands. “You’ve been to the village, then, madam?”

She tilted her chin. No use letting him intimidate her. “Yes, I have.”

“And you’ve bought eggs and ham and bread and jam.” He stalked straight toward her, his long stride eating up the few feet between them.

“Yes, I have.” She shied away—entirely inadvertently! —and found herself against the kitchen table.

“And what sort of mistake did you tell the carriage driver I’d made?” He plucked the basket from her hand.

“Oh!” She reached for her basket, but he carelessly held it up out of reach.

“Tut, tut, Mrs. Halifax. You were about to tell me how you convinced the driver to bring you back here.” He took the ham out of the basket and set it on the kitchen table. “Did you bribe the man?”

“Certainly not.” She watched him worriedly as he placed the bread and jam beside the ham. Was he angry? Amused? The problem was she simply couldn’t tell. She expelled an exasperated breath. “I told him that you were confused.”

He looked at her. “Confused.”

If the table hadn’t been at her back, she might’ve fled. “Yes. Confused. I said I only needed the carriage to do my shopping in Glenlargo.”

“Is that so?” He’d emptied the basket by now and was examining the contents laid out on the table. Besides the jam, ham, bread, and eggs, she’d purchased tea, a lovely brown-glazed teapot, butter, four nice round apples, a bunch of carrots, a wedge of creamy yellow cheese, and a herring.

He turned his gaze to her. “What a magnificent feast. Did you use your own money?”

Helen blushed. Naturally, she’d had to use her own money. “Well, I—”

“How very generous of you, madam,” he rasped. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard tell before of a housekeeper using her own funds for her master.”

“I’m sure you’ll repay me—”

“Are you?” he murmured.

She set her hands on her hips and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. This afternoon had been the most trying of her entire life. “Yes, I’m sure. You’ll repay me because I begged and bullied that wretched driver into stopping in Glenlargo. Then I had to find the shops, wheedle the baker to reopen his shop—he closes at noon, would you believe?—bargain the butcher down from his quite scandalous prices, and tell the grocer I wasn’t going to buy wormy apples.” She didn’t even mention the task that’d taken up most of her time in the village. “And after that I had to persuade the carriage driver into bringing us back here and helping me unload the carriage. So, yes, the very least you could do is repay me!”