Read Online Rebellion & In From The Cold by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Nora Roberts
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mare.”
“Please, sir, would you look in on her, too? She’s a beauty.”
Brigham laid a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “I’d be delighted to meet her.”
Satisfied he’d found a kindred spirit, Malcolm took Brigham’s hand and led him through the stables. “She’s Betsy.” At the sound of her name, the mare poked her head over the stall door and waited to be rubbed.
“A lovely lady.” She was a roan, not beautifully distinguished, but dignified and trim enough. As Brigham lifted a hand to stroke her head, she pricked up her ears and fixed him with a calm, questioning eye.
“She likes you.” The fact pleased Malcolm, as if he often trusted the opinions of animals over those of people.
Inside the stall, Jem went about his business in a calm, capable way that impressed the young Malcolm. Betsy stood tolerantly, sighing occasionally so that her heavy belly shook, and switching her tail.
“She’ll be foaling soon,” Jem pronounced. “Another day or two by my guess.”
“I want to sleep in the stables, but Serena always comes and drags me back.”
“Don’t fret about it, Jem’s here now.” With that, Jem stepped out of the stall.
“But you will send word when it’s time?”
Jem looked at Brigham for affirmation, got it and grinned. “I’ll send up a shout for you, never fear.”
“Could I impose on you to show Jem to the kitchen?” Brigham asked. “He hasn’t eaten.”
“I beg your pardon.” Abruptly proper, Malcolm straightened his shoulders. “I’ll see that the cook fixes you something right away. Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Brig.”
Malcolm grinned at the man, and at the hand he was offered. He shook it formally, then skipped out, calling for Jem to follow.
“A taking little scamp. If I may say so, milord?”
“You may. Jem, try to remember he’s young and impressionable.” At Jem’s blank expression, Brigham sighed. “If he begins to swear like my English groom, the ax will fall on me. He has a sister who would love to wield it.”
“Yes, milord. I’ll be the soul of propriety, I will.” Breaking into a grin, Jem followed Malcolm out.
Brigham didn’t know why he lingered. Perhaps it was because it was quiet, and the horses were good company. It was true that he’d spent a good part of his youth in the same way as Malcolm, in the stables. He’d learned more than a few interesting phrases. He could, if necessary, have harnessed a team himself in only half again as much time as his groom. He could drive to an inch or doctor a strained tendon, and he had overseen his share of foalings.
Once it had been his dream to breed horses. That had changed when the responsibilities of his title had come to him at an early age.
But it wasn’t horses or lost dreams he thought of now. It was Serena. Perhaps because his thoughts were on her, he wasn’t surprised to see her enter the stables.
She’d been thinking of him as well, though not entirely kindly. Throughout the day she hadn’t been able to concentrate on ordinary things. Instead she concentrated, unwillingly, on that moment she had stood with him by her brother’s window.
She’d been tired, Serena assured herself as she wrapped the plaid securely around her. Almost asleep on her feet, if it came to that. Why else would she have only stood there while he touched her in that way … looked at her in that way?
And how he’d looked. Even now, something stirred in her at the memory. His eyes had gotten so dark; they’d been so close. She knew what it was to have a man look at her with interest, even to have one try to steer her into the shadows to steal a kiss. With one or two, she’d permitted it. Just to see if she might care for it. In truth, she found kissing pleasant enough, if unexciting. But nothing before had come close to this.
Her legs had gone weak, as if someone had taken out the blood and replaced it with water. Her head had spun the way it had when she’d been twelve and sampled her father’s
“Please, sir, would you look in on her, too? She’s a beauty.”
Brigham laid a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “I’d be delighted to meet her.”
Satisfied he’d found a kindred spirit, Malcolm took Brigham’s hand and led him through the stables. “She’s Betsy.” At the sound of her name, the mare poked her head over the stall door and waited to be rubbed.
“A lovely lady.” She was a roan, not beautifully distinguished, but dignified and trim enough. As Brigham lifted a hand to stroke her head, she pricked up her ears and fixed him with a calm, questioning eye.
“She likes you.” The fact pleased Malcolm, as if he often trusted the opinions of animals over those of people.
Inside the stall, Jem went about his business in a calm, capable way that impressed the young Malcolm. Betsy stood tolerantly, sighing occasionally so that her heavy belly shook, and switching her tail.
“She’ll be foaling soon,” Jem pronounced. “Another day or two by my guess.”
“I want to sleep in the stables, but Serena always comes and drags me back.”
“Don’t fret about it, Jem’s here now.” With that, Jem stepped out of the stall.
“But you will send word when it’s time?”
Jem looked at Brigham for affirmation, got it and grinned. “I’ll send up a shout for you, never fear.”
“Could I impose on you to show Jem to the kitchen?” Brigham asked. “He hasn’t eaten.”
“I beg your pardon.” Abruptly proper, Malcolm straightened his shoulders. “I’ll see that the cook fixes you something right away. Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Brig.”
Malcolm grinned at the man, and at the hand he was offered. He shook it formally, then skipped out, calling for Jem to follow.
“A taking little scamp. If I may say so, milord?”
“You may. Jem, try to remember he’s young and impressionable.” At Jem’s blank expression, Brigham sighed. “If he begins to swear like my English groom, the ax will fall on me. He has a sister who would love to wield it.”
“Yes, milord. I’ll be the soul of propriety, I will.” Breaking into a grin, Jem followed Malcolm out.
Brigham didn’t know why he lingered. Perhaps it was because it was quiet, and the horses were good company. It was true that he’d spent a good part of his youth in the same way as Malcolm, in the stables. He’d learned more than a few interesting phrases. He could, if necessary, have harnessed a team himself in only half again as much time as his groom. He could drive to an inch or doctor a strained tendon, and he had overseen his share of foalings.
Once it had been his dream to breed horses. That had changed when the responsibilities of his title had come to him at an early age.
But it wasn’t horses or lost dreams he thought of now. It was Serena. Perhaps because his thoughts were on her, he wasn’t surprised to see her enter the stables.
She’d been thinking of him as well, though not entirely kindly. Throughout the day she hadn’t been able to concentrate on ordinary things. Instead she concentrated, unwillingly, on that moment she had stood with him by her brother’s window.
She’d been tired, Serena assured herself as she wrapped the plaid securely around her. Almost asleep on her feet, if it came to that. Why else would she have only stood there while he touched her in that way … looked at her in that way?
And how he’d looked. Even now, something stirred in her at the memory. His eyes had gotten so dark; they’d been so close. She knew what it was to have a man look at her with interest, even to have one try to steer her into the shadows to steal a kiss. With one or two, she’d permitted it. Just to see if she might care for it. In truth, she found kissing pleasant enough, if unexciting. But nothing before had come close to this.
Her legs had gone weak, as if someone had taken out the blood and replaced it with water. Her head had spun the way it had when she’d been twelve and sampled her father’s
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