Page 5 of A Heart Worth Loving

“Please, take shelter,” he repeated.

Her mother bustled inside but poked her head out and said, “We are right pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Eleanor Brodrick, and this is my daughter, Kyla. We live over the hill from the abbey. Are you headed back? Surely, it would be no hardship if you were to—”

“I would be delighted,” the viscount interrupted with a curt nod.

Kyla smothered a smile as her mother huffed and disappeared inside. Kyla stepped around the curricle to the carriage and he extended his hand. She placed her hand in his. Strong fingers grasped hers lightly. They were warm, just like his expressive, brown eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Samson and Delilah,” she blurted.

His dark brows rose again. “Pardon?”

Kyla’s cheeks warmed. “The horses. I must—”

“I will bring them,” he cut her short.

So, the viscount was in the habit of interrupting, was he? His brows furrowed into a deeper line. Rain dripped from the rim of his hat and from the ends of his long, dark hair. Only then, did she realize she stood there like a bumbling fool. Quickly, she allowed him to hand her inside.

He closed the carriage door and, in five long strides, reached the curricle. He gave the wheel a cursory glance then, as Kyla watched, he unbuckled the horses from their harnesses and tied them to the back of his carriage. The next moment, he jumped back into the coachman’s seat, and the carriage rolled forward.

“A rather grim man,” her mother murmured as she unpinned her hat and shook rainwater onto the carriage floor. “Still, we are fortunate.”

Grim? Kyla hid a smile. Not with those warm brown eyes. Nae, she thought him mysterious. No wonder he’d set the village women gossiping. The broody, quiet types always did.

As her mother chattered, Kyla locked her gaze out the window.

Bare minutes seemed to pass before they turned down the carriage drive lined on either side with trees, their branches filling with late spring leaves. The manor house at the end of the drive was modest compared to most of the nearby estates, but respectable. Still, Kyla surveyed the gray-stone building with a critical eye. The roof would need repairing, soon. At the entrance, the carriage stopped and shifted as the viscount jumped down, then the door opened.

“Mrs. Brodrick,” came the polite murmur as he extended a hand.

“Do come in for a spot of tea,” her mother suggested as she disembarked.

“Another time,” the viscount replied as she hurried up the steps to the front door.

In short order, Kyla found herself handed down and deposited on the carriage drive. She’d barely murmured, “Thank you, sir,” before he’d strode to the back to untie Samson and Delilah.

As he led the horses forward, Kyla met him halfway. “I will take them, sir.”

Again, the soulful, dark eyes locked on hers. His lips curved upward slightly as he offered her the reins. As their fingers brushed a second time, Kyla couldn’t help but notice his warmth.

A little rattled, she dipped a quick curtsey. “Thank you, sir, for the aid.”

“My pleasure.” He tipped his hat, then sprang back into the driver’s seat.

Kyla watched as he maneuvered the drive, then disappeared down the road. How could a man appear so grim, yet be so polite and warm?

“Do hurry with the horses,” her mother called from the safety of the front door. “You will catch your death, Kyla.”

Kyla blinked. Was she really standing in the rain staring at a man? With a snort, she pulled the horses forward. “Come, Samson and Delilah.”

She rounded the corner of the house, then halted at sight of the limp rag tied on the fence post. Green. Her stomach tightened. Why, of all nights, had Mister Mallatratt chosen this night to collect her father’s cargo of smuggled goods from Blackstone Abbey?

Chapter Two

Ewan draped his sodden coat across the back of the chair in the library. It was late. His younger half-brother, Liam, lay slouched, asleep, in a leather chair before the dying fire. Ewan paused and eyed him. Liam was far too talented an engineer to languish in the dark halls of an abbey. Ewan stalked to his brother’s side and jiggled the chair with a booted foot. Nae, Liam didn’t belong here—besides, he wanted the chair.

“Up,” Ewan grunted.

Liam opened a lazy eye. “You’re back,” he muttered before turning to seek a more comfortable position.