Page 34 of Reforming Lord Neil

“That’s hardly friendly,” Neil said, soft and coaxing. “I’ve gone to get you something. A real treat.” He took a shortbread biscuit from one of his pockets and held it out to the animal, still too far away from him for him to touch it. The dog’s eyes moved and froze upon seeing his hand. Hunger shone in the pitiful animal’s eyes.

Good.

Neil tossed the biscuit directly beneath the dog’s snout.

Cautiously, the animal bent and sniffed the biscuit once before gulping it down. Neil grinned at his success and tossed another biscuit, this one ginger. The dog snapped it up even faster. Neil tossed the next one a few inches closer to himself.

“There’s a good dog. Try another bite of biscuit.” He soothed with his voice, bringing the dog closer with each treat, and backing away from the bush. The dog stopped just shy of leaving cover, watching Neil carefully. Slowly the gray head raised, the dog’s blue eyes wide and afraid. Its tail wagged, hesitantly.

“You can trust me,” Neil said, still low to the ground. He held out his hand with another biscuit as far from himself as he could reach. “I promise. I’ve never hurt any creature, and dogs are my favorite of all four-legged sorts.”

The animal sniffed the biscuit, then carefully took it from him and chewed it to bits before swallowing. Neil held out only his hand next. The dog sniffed at it, then licked at his fingertips, likely tasting all the leftover bits of sugar and ginger. The tail wagged again, with somewhat more enthusiasm than before.

Slowly, Neil moved his hand to scratch behind the dog’s floppy gray and black ears. He’d never seen a dog bred to look the way this one did. The gray, wavy coat was reminiscent of a Spaniel, but the structure of the animal’s head was all wrong, the snout too long. Its tail hadn’t been cropped, had no curl to the bone, and the fur grew long enough to make a banner of the tail when it wagged.

A mongrel, then. The dog was likely the product of an unwanted mix of parents. But it wasn’t a puppy. It hadn’t been killed at birth, as most unwanted litters suffered that fate from kennel masters. Where had the poor bedraggled thing come from?

He offered the animal another ginger biscuit.

“Wherever you came from, and whatever your lineage, I will not turn you away now.” Neil scratched the dog behind its ears, pleased when the animal leaned into his touch. “Wary beast that you are, I can’t imagine you’ve been treated well in the past.” He carefully wrapped his arms around the dog’s legs before standing, lifting the animal with him.

The dog did not fight him, but relaxed against his chest. It seemed he’d won the animal’s trust. Or perhaps the creature was too hungry, tired, and wet to care what became of it.

But Neil cared, much to his own surprise, and the dog would soon find itself warm and dry. And fed on more than biscuits.

Chapter Fifteen

Teresa fretted at the kitchen window, looking out repeatedly across the barnyard to where the lantern light glowed from the open doorway. Her mother sat behind her at the table, reading by another lamp the book of sonnets Mr. Duncan had gifted them.

“What is taking Caroline so long?” Teresa asked.

She had decided it would be best to let her daughter practice milking Abigail at night. Not because Teresa wished to avoid the barn that evening. Of course not. It was merely time for the girl to take on greater responsibility, and Caroline always wanted to check on her kitten anyway. The arrangement made sense.

The only sound in the kitchen was when Mother turned the page in the book. Until she spoke. “You will bite a hole through your lip if you keep that up.”

Immediately, Teresa let her lip out of her teeth. She pulled her shawl closer. “Old habit.”

“Very old.” Mother put a ribbon between the pages of the book and closed it. “You used to do that when you were a child, working yourself up to ask for something you were certain your father or I would deny you.”

Teresa relaxed, letting out a strained laugh. “Was I a vexatious child?”

“No more so than our sweet Cara.” Mother looked at the door, then pointedly at Teresa. “You may as well go and see what is keeping her. Mothers often must go looking for wandering daughters. At least until they’re old enough to know best when to come home.”

“I am certain Caroline is well enough out there.” Teresa looked out the window again and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before catching herself.

“Teresa.” Her mother pointed to the door. “Out with you.”

“You do not understand, Mother.” Teresa went to the door, going so far as to rest her hand on the latch. “I have complicated things between Mr. Duncan and myself.”

Mother sniffed and turned her back on Teresa. “Oh, dear child, I understand quite well. Never doubt that.”

“And you would still send me out there?” Teresa asked, hesitantly. Her mother could not truly know and certainly never guess that her only daughter had kissed a man that very day. The man currently residing in their barn.

“I would.” Mother rose and took her book up. “Good night, Teresa.”

“Good night, Mother.” Teresa watched her mother go through the kitchen into the main room of the house, then turned back to the door. Strengthening her resolve, Teresa undid the latch and walked out into the night, toward the barn.

When she entered, her lamp in hand, she did not immediately spy her daughter or Mr. Duncan. She heard him speaking, though.