Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5)(41)

Nanny was expressionless. “You want me to push the cat in the pram, milady?”

“Yes, otherwise I’ll be a sieve by the time we return to Eversby Priory.”

Justin’s face brightened. “Are we going to keep her, Mama?”

“Only until we can find someone else to take her back to the barn.” Phoebe settled the cat on the white silk bedding of the pram. Stephen babbled with excited interest and reached for the furry creature, his little hands opening and closing like hungry starfish. With a laugh, Phoebe scooped him up before he could pull the cat’s tail. “Oh, no you don’t. Be gentle with kitty.”

The cat flattened her ears and gave the baby a baleful glance.

“Kitty!” Stephen exclaimed, leaning heavily in Phoebe’s arms to reach the cat. “Kitty!”

Phoebe lowered him to the ground and kept one of his chubby hands in hers. “Let’s walk beside the pram, darling.”

Eagerly Stephen started forward in his spraddling gait. As Nanny pushed the vehicle along the path, the black cat poked its head over the pram’s wicker edge, calmly viewing the passing scenery. For some reason, the sight of a cat riding in his pram struck the baby as uproariously funny, and he burst into giggles. Phoebe and Justin both chuckled, and even Nanny cracked a smile.

Before they crossed the bridge, they went down to have a look at the chalk stream, which was fringed with reeds, watercress, and yellow flag irises. The water flowing gently over the pebbled bed was gin clear, having been filtered through the Hampshire chalk hills.

“Mama, I want to put my feet in the water,” Justin exclaimed.

Phoebe sent Nanny a questioning glance. “Shall we stop here for a few minutes?”

The older woman, who was never averse to the prospect of a rest, nodded at once.

“Lovely,” Phoebe said. “Justin, do you need help with your shoes and stockings?”

“No, I can do it.” But as the boy bent to unfasten the buttons of his kid leather shoes, an unexpected noise caught his attention. He stopped and looked for the source of the sound, which was coming from downstream.

Phoebe frowned as she saw a lone man walking along the bank of the stream, idly whistling a folk tune. A battered hat with a wide brim shaded his face. His build was rangy and athletic, the loose, confident stride curbed by the hint of a strut. Curiously, his loose shirt and cotton canvas trousers looked as if he’d gone swimming in them, the fabric clinging wetly to the hard lines of his body.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t stop after all,” Phoebe murmured, her instincts warning her to leave as quickly as possible. A pair of women and two young children were easy marks for a man that size. “Come with me, Justin.”

To her astonishment, her son ignored the command and ran toward the disreputable-looking stranger with a gleeful yelp.

The man’s head lifted. A husky laugh sent a thrill of recognition along Phoebe’s nerves.

“Oh,” she said softly, watching as West Ravenel settled the battered hat on Justin’s head, lifted him high against his side, and carried him back to her.





Chapter 16




Phoebe hadn’t seen West since she’d visited his room yesterday. Since the unforgettable kiss she was supposed to forget. Except the sensations had somehow become woven into her skin, a subtle but constant stimulation she didn’t know how to erase. Her lips still felt a little swollen, aching to be pressed and stroked and soothed—that was an illusion, she knew—but the feeling only grew stronger as he approached.

Justin was talking animatedly to him. “. . . but Galoshes wouldn’t stay there. She followed us from the barn, and now she’s riding in Stephen’s pram.”

“Galoshes? Why did you name her that?”

“It’s what Mama says when the cat puts holes in her dress.”

“Poor Mama.” West’s deep voice was edged with amusement. But his gaze was intent and searching as he looked at Phoebe.

She had already promised herself that when next they met, she would be composed and pleasant. Sophisticated. But that plan had already vanished like the fluff of a dandelion gone to seed, whisked away at the will of a breeze. She was filled with pleasure and excitement, momentarily too flustered to speak.

West turned to greet Nanny and grinned at the sight of the cat lounging in the pram. He set Justin down and slowly lowered to his haunches in front of Stephen.

“Hello, Stephen,” he said in a gentle, vibrant tone. “What a handsome fellow you are. You have your mother’s eyes.”

The sturdy toddler half hid behind Phoebe’s skirts and peeked at the engaging stranger while chewing on a finger. A shy grin split his face, revealing a row of little white teeth.

Phoebe noticed a dark bruise forming on West’s forearm, which was exposed by a rolled-up shirtsleeve. “Mr. Ravenel,” she asked in concern, “has some accident befallen you? What happened to your arm?”

He rose to his feet, his wet hair hanging over his brow in shiny dark ribbons. “It’s sheep-washing day. One of them caught my arm with a hoof as she tried to turn over in the water.”

“What about your stitches? Heaven knows what kind of filth your wound was absorbing while you stood in a filthy sheep bath.”

He seemed amused by her worry. “It’s not bothering me in the slightest.”