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Authors: Melissa Lynne Blue
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look. “Anna, I’d like you to meet the man I owe my very life, Brian Donnelly. Brian, my wife.”
“Oh, my lord in heaven.” Anna’s hands flew to her mouth as she looked from her husband to Brian. “Mr. Donnelly, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to thank you for the safe return of my Harvey. I should never have survived without him.” Without warning she stepped forward, threw her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss square on his mouth.
Brian laughed, unsure how else to respond to the open display of gratitude, and wiped a hand across his chin. “No thanks necessary I assure you, Mrs. Baker. Knowin’ Harvey the stories of our exploits have been embellished by half.” Stepping back he held an arm out to Lydia. “Please let me introduce—”
“Lydia Donnelly.” She stepped into his arm, smiling sweetly, a mischievous twinkle lighting her eye. “His wife.”
Chapter Four
If Brian was perturbed by her declaration he made no indication. Instead he glanced at her, a flash of good humor—or, perhaps it was mischief—skimming the surface of his eyes. “My wife,” he repeated, clamping an arm about her waist.
Lydia breathed a mental sigh of relief that he played along. She couldn’t have him introducing her as the future Viscountess of Northbridge or the daughter of General William Covington. Especially in her filthy boy’s outfit.
“Ah, hell,” Harvey scoffed, “it’s too late to save you, Brian.”
“That’ll be enough out of you, Mr. Baker.” Anna scowled at her husband before bestowing a dazzling smile on Brian. “Would you and your wife care to come inside, Mr. Donnelly?” Her eyes flicked the length of Lydia’s odd attire. Fortunately enough dust and mud caked the trousers to mask Lucas MacGregor’s blood stain. Briefly Anna’s gaze met Lydia’s, and while it didn’t convey open disapproval it was questioningly cool.
Lydia gulped, leaning into Brian for strength.
Brian gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Baker.”
“Could I offer you a bite to eat as well?”
Lydia’s mouth watered with the promise of food and her stomach roared.
Without releasing her, Brian followed Harvey and Anna into the cottage. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Baker.
The home was simple but charming in nature. Natural light filtered through tall paned windows illuminating the two main rooms of the downstairs. A small parlor sat to the left of a narrow hallway, a larger kitchen was positioned at the back of the house, and a narrow staircase was nestled between the two rooms. The cottage was not as grand as the manor she’d grown up in, but an atmosphere of home stemmed from every corner of the structure. Her heart ached with longing. She’d never known a real home. She’d lost her mother at the age of five and her father was always gone with his military career or a new business scheme. Mere months after the untimely death of his wife, Sir William married Olivia attempting to provide a mother for Lydia. Her stepmother tried, loved her in her own way, but it simply wasn’t the same. Olivia had no children of her own, and Lydia keenly sensed an element of resentment.
“Mrs. Donnelly? Mrs. Donnelly?”
It took several moments for Lydia to realize Anna Baker addressed her. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs. Baker, you were saying?”
“Will you be in need of some proper clothes then?”
Her cheeks grew warm and a self-conscious hand fluttered to her breast. “I am afraid so.” She glanced pleadingly to Brian who merely smirked noncommittally. “It’s a rather long story.”
“Well, you can tell us all about it over a bite of supper.” Anna bustled to the staircase. “In the meantime I have some of my daughter’s old clothes in the spare bedroom. Come along you two.”
Lydia eagerly followed, embarrassment of her attire surpassed only by the desire to be rid of the dreaded garments. Brian hesitated.
“Mr.
“Oh, my lord in heaven.” Anna’s hands flew to her mouth as she looked from her husband to Brian. “Mr. Donnelly, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to thank you for the safe return of my Harvey. I should never have survived without him.” Without warning she stepped forward, threw her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss square on his mouth.
Brian laughed, unsure how else to respond to the open display of gratitude, and wiped a hand across his chin. “No thanks necessary I assure you, Mrs. Baker. Knowin’ Harvey the stories of our exploits have been embellished by half.” Stepping back he held an arm out to Lydia. “Please let me introduce—”
“Lydia Donnelly.” She stepped into his arm, smiling sweetly, a mischievous twinkle lighting her eye. “His wife.”
Chapter Four
If Brian was perturbed by her declaration he made no indication. Instead he glanced at her, a flash of good humor—or, perhaps it was mischief—skimming the surface of his eyes. “My wife,” he repeated, clamping an arm about her waist.
Lydia breathed a mental sigh of relief that he played along. She couldn’t have him introducing her as the future Viscountess of Northbridge or the daughter of General William Covington. Especially in her filthy boy’s outfit.
“Ah, hell,” Harvey scoffed, “it’s too late to save you, Brian.”
“That’ll be enough out of you, Mr. Baker.” Anna scowled at her husband before bestowing a dazzling smile on Brian. “Would you and your wife care to come inside, Mr. Donnelly?” Her eyes flicked the length of Lydia’s odd attire. Fortunately enough dust and mud caked the trousers to mask Lucas MacGregor’s blood stain. Briefly Anna’s gaze met Lydia’s, and while it didn’t convey open disapproval it was questioningly cool.
Lydia gulped, leaning into Brian for strength.
Brian gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Baker.”
“Could I offer you a bite to eat as well?”
Lydia’s mouth watered with the promise of food and her stomach roared.
Without releasing her, Brian followed Harvey and Anna into the cottage. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Baker.
The home was simple but charming in nature. Natural light filtered through tall paned windows illuminating the two main rooms of the downstairs. A small parlor sat to the left of a narrow hallway, a larger kitchen was positioned at the back of the house, and a narrow staircase was nestled between the two rooms. The cottage was not as grand as the manor she’d grown up in, but an atmosphere of home stemmed from every corner of the structure. Her heart ached with longing. She’d never known a real home. She’d lost her mother at the age of five and her father was always gone with his military career or a new business scheme. Mere months after the untimely death of his wife, Sir William married Olivia attempting to provide a mother for Lydia. Her stepmother tried, loved her in her own way, but it simply wasn’t the same. Olivia had no children of her own, and Lydia keenly sensed an element of resentment.
“Mrs. Donnelly? Mrs. Donnelly?”
It took several moments for Lydia to realize Anna Baker addressed her. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs. Baker, you were saying?”
“Will you be in need of some proper clothes then?”
Her cheeks grew warm and a self-conscious hand fluttered to her breast. “I am afraid so.” She glanced pleadingly to Brian who merely smirked noncommittally. “It’s a rather long story.”
“Well, you can tell us all about it over a bite of supper.” Anna bustled to the staircase. “In the meantime I have some of my daughter’s old clothes in the spare bedroom. Come along you two.”
Lydia eagerly followed, embarrassment of her attire surpassed only by the desire to be rid of the dreaded garments. Brian hesitated.
“Mr.
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