Page 14 of Joy to the Earl

Jack shook his head. “Not his mess to clean. Besides, I can’t be in polite company just yet.”

Unbidden, her gaze lowered to see the prominent bulge still tenting his breeches. It would only take her a moment, and she could unfasten the placket and have his cock in her hands. To feel it thick and pulsing, to lap the swollen head and taste his seed on her tongue. To pleasure him as thoroughly as he’d done her, properly this time.

“Jack…” said Rosalind softly, taking a step toward him. “Let me—”

“Go inside, Rosalind. Your family will be waiting for you. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Helplessly she watched as he turned away from her, picked up a broom resting against the wall of the small room, and returned to the main stable area where he’d been preparing the wood. His movements were efficient and expert as he tidied the area, those strong forearms flexing as he lifted the unwieldly saw and plane and returned them to their oversized leather satchel. But he didn’t look up, not once.

“As you wish,” she replied, folding her arms as the chill of the stables seeped into her bones, all heat from their torrid encounter long gone.

It was only a short walk back to the manor, but it might have been the loneliest of her life.

Indeed, her heart was in a great deal of trouble.

* * *

“I wish you would stop avoiding me, Jack. Four days, and barely a word you’ve spoken.”

Shrugging into his borrowed greatcoat, Jack took his time turning around to face Rosalind. Actually it had been three days, five hours, and probably a handful of minutes, but he was hardly counting. Just eager to stay out of the path of a woman who read him as easily as a book. And not things that didn’t matter, but deeply personal ones. Like his damned virginity. He’d thought he’d had all the embarrassing moments possible with the topic, even silently congratulated himself on making her come and disguising his complete lack of experience. Which had been an utter waste of time, as she’d guessed immediately.

Flailing around for a name, any name, he’d settled on one that popped into his head. Marianne. A rather fancy one, and hardly belonging to anyone in his village or beyond, but it sounded vaguely plausible, especially when assisted with the little extra detail about being pretty and singing well.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he muttered, hating the fact that his cheeks were warming with the lie. Damned fair coloring. “I’ve just been busy with chores. Sir Donald has found me plenty of things that need repairs.”

“I’ve told him to leave you be. You are recovering from a serious accident; I don’t want you to have a relapse.”

“It’s not ideal weather for mending, but I’d hate for anyone to be injured for the sake of a few nails and planks. Besides, my head is fine. The goose egg is nearly gone and my bruises are already starting to fade.”

Rosalind tilted her head. “We are very grateful for your help. Aunt May won’t stop praising you, and Phillip Vale said he would hire you on the spot as a lead carpenter if you wanted employment at his warehouses by the Thames. They are in Wapping.”

“That is very kind of him. I’ll consider it,” said Jack, hoping his jaw wasn’t flapping open in shock. He and Vale had talked casually after supper a few times, and the man had a good head on his shoulders, smart as a whip but practical too. It was no wonder he’d made a great deal of money in business, and to work for him would be a privilege. But to live in London?

“I hope you do. I understand Phillip treats his employees well, unlike others in the city. Speaking of London, I gave a letter for the family of Lord Lynthorpe to our stable boy. He’s taken it back to the village to get on the mail coach. Just an explanation of what happened, our sympathies, and that we’d be in town in the New Year if they wished to speak further.”

“Thank you. It has been weighing on my mind, them not knowing.”

“No trouble. But in the meantime, you cannot avoid me today. We are all going on a sleigh ride to select some holly boughs and the Yule log while there is a break in the weather. Fliss is not permitted to bring Wellington, and the only reason she didn’t get into a temper about it was the opportunity to sit beside you in the sleigh.”

He nodded gravely. “Have to obey the captain’s orders.”

Rosalind laughed. “Flissy will be delighted to hear it. I must warn you, Uncle Donald always drives the sleigh, and is a little, ah…erratic.”

The lady was the mistress of understatement.

A half hour later they were almost flying across a winter wonderland of snow and ice, while Sir Donald cracked his whip in the air and bellowed encouragement to a fine matched pair of grays. Felicity shrieked in delight as they dashed left and right to avoid rocks and tree stumps, but Jack held onto the side of the sleigh with white knuckles, Lady Kilburne muttered prayers, and Rosalind, plus Claire and Phillip Vale, huddled under thick blankets with green-tinged countenances.

Finally they reached a clearing, and with a tree-splitting cry of “whoa”, Sir Donald brought the sleigh to a sharp halt. Climbing out, Jack flexed his legs, wincing when his hip seized up in the cold and sent arrows of pain down his thigh. But it was a truly beautiful portrait-like spot with pristine white snow, deep green forest, and the fresh scent of nothing but cold air and nature.

Sir Donald bounded around the clearing like a man a third his age, his cheeks ruddy and grin contagious. “Come along, everyone, don’t dawdle. We’ve boughs and a log to collect, and snowmen to build and snow angels to create. Once we are turning blue, dear Rosalind will restore us all with chocolate to drink; it’s sitting in hot bricks to stay warm.”

“Snow angels!” said Felicity excitedly, climbing down from the sleigh and jumping onto a smooth expanse of soft snow. “I love to…owww…”

Immediately Jack saw an expression on the little girl’s face he knew far too well, the pained grimace of someone who’d forgotten, just for a moment in their joy of something normal and fun, that one leg did not behave well in the cold or when pushed to movement.

“Captain,” he called. “I have need of a lookout to find the best boughs. Very important task, only fit for the bravest of soldiers, because they’ll need to perch on my shoulders. Do you know of anyone?”

Felicity’s morose face lit up with hope. “I’m very brave. I could do it, Jack, choose me!”