Page 36 of Black and Silver

By the time he stepped back out into the driving rain with the keys, Silas had brought the carriage all the way up to the top of the rise. He’d steered it toward a tiny stable behind the house so that the poor horses could have a modicum of shelter.

“Is she better?” Silas called as he worked with the horses.

“No,” Lawrence shouted back as he headed for the parsonage’s door to try the keys. “We need help.”

Silas nodded, then continued his work to secure the carriage.

Lawrence adjusted Minerva in his arms once more, alarmed at how much his muscles ached, but unwilling to let her go just yet. He tried key after key in the front door lock, and when he found one that worked to turn the mechanism and open the door, he shouted in victory.

His shout was met with a weak groan from Minerva that killed any sense of triumph he had.

“We’re inside now, love,” he said, barging into the house as if it were their own.

“Housebreaking again?” Minerva said in a suddenly lucid voice.

Lawrence laughed with relief, but that relief was short-lived. Minerva lapsed into a swoon as soon as he tried to set her on her feet.

“Ups-a-daisy,” Lawrence said, catching her and pulling him against her. “I’ve got you.”

His efforts to remain light-hearted and to project that all would be well, now that they were in the house, continued as he looked around the tidy space.

“Someone has kept this place looking nice,” he spoke the sweetest variation of his still anxious thoughts as he glanced around. “We should find everything we need here.”

“Can I go to bed?” Minerva asked on a heavy sigh, leaning her face against his shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Lawrence said.

He continued to glance around for a moment, then finally decided to pull out one of the chairs from the small dining table and seat Minerva there, in the middle of the floor, so that he could peel her out of her muddy cloak without making too much of a mess.

He removed his coat as well, and his boots and stockings. Really, to preserve the cleanliness of the parsonage, he needed to remove his clothes entirely, and likely toss them in the midden heap, but he settled for stripping down to just his shirt and breeches. His shirt had avoided most of the mud, at least.

Undressing Minerva was another conundrum. After the night they’d spent together, he did not think she would balk at being naked in his presence. There was Silas to consider, though, and if the parson and his potential wife should return home and find two naked people and a pile of muddy clothing waiting for them, their troubles could increase tenfold.

The imminent return of the parson did not seem likely, however, when Lawrence considered that both the fireplace and the small iron stove in the corner of the house’s main room were both cold. Wherever the parson was, he had not been home for days. It was a potential boon in some ways, but Lawrence did not like the chill in the house, nor the effort he knew it would take to warm it again.

“It will just be a moment, love,” he called over to Minerva, who slumped in her chair, eyes closed, as he flitted around the room, trying not to splatter mud everywhere as he moved his clothing. “I just need to light the fire and this cozy house will be warmed right away.”

Minerva snorted some sort of laugh, then lolled her head to the other side. “It always takes hours to warm an empty house,” she said.

Whether that was meant to be an admonishment or not, Lawrence smiled at Minerva’s returned lucidity. He doubled thepace of his work as he took wood from a basket to the side of the fireplace, and thanked God it was there, along with kindling and matches, and set to work building the fire.

Time slipped into a space where it had no meaning as he worked to get both the fireplace and the stove burning. He was single-minded in his mission to warm Minerva and to protect her from the elements and whatever illness had beset her. As soon as the logs in the fireplace caught, he returned to Minerva, lifting her to her feet so he could move her chair closer to the growing warmth.

“You should remove these wet, muddy things immediately,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of her once he had her reseated and pulling at the waterlogged laces of her traveling boots.

“Lawrence,” Minerva said in a groggy, scolding voice. “Now is not the time for such things.”

Lawrence glanced up at her warily. Perhaps she was not as rational as he thought.

“Believe me, my love,” he said, throwing caution to the wind as he pulled off one of her boots and the ruined stocking she wore with it, then worked on the other. “When the time comes that we are both well and safe once more, I should like nothing better than to be as inappropriate and wicked with you as we were last night. But for the moment, my attentions to your person are entirely practical, I can assure you.”

Minerva made a sound that might have been disbelief, but then fell into a coughing fit before she could say anything.

The fit frightened Lawrence down to the marrow of his bones. He yanked her second boot off, but waited on removing her stocking until he had straightened and held his arms out to her, as if she might need him to catch her as she fell.

The fit passed, though, and Minerva whined with discomfort.

“Is there any tea?” she asked. “My throat feels awful.”

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