Page 43 of Suddenly a Bride
That might have been an actual attempt at humor, and she smiled with satisfaction at his broad back. He was warming to her.
Once they were mounted, and the horse was trotting onto the road, she asked, “Are we going back to the castle now?”
“We have one more farm to visit,” he reminded her.
She thought he sounded rather grim, which confused her. After a half-hour, he guided The General off the road. Low stone walls flanked a dirt path that wound its way up the side of the dale. The higher they rode, the more the whole valley spread out behind them. There was a beautiful symmetry to the different squares of green pastureland, broken up by the occasional brown checks of oat fields, all separated by stone walls. Flocks of sheep grazed like white clouds across a green sky. She held onto her husband and looked back beyond his shoulder, thinking that she could enjoy this view forever.
“Oh, Edmund,” she breathed, unable to give voice to the beauty of the Yorkshire dales.
He glanced down at her, but she didn’t immediately take her gaze away from the valley. When she realized he was still looking at her, she turned to him, wishing the basket weren’t in her lap. Otherwise she could slide her arms about his neck in hopes that he’d kiss her again. She shivered at the thought.
Somehow he must have guessed what she was thinking, for he looked at her mouth. On either side of her, his arms stiffened, and she could feel every bulge of his muscles. She had never imagined a man’s body could excite her like this. The wild, restless feeling overtook her again, burning through her, making her yearn to know where it would lead.
He suddenly looked up, then pulled on the reins to bring the General up short. “We’ve arrived.”
She let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
Both the farm and the house were vastly different than the ones they’d seen earlier. The hillside was much steeper, there was little flat ground to grow crops. The house was small, built of uneven wood with dirt patches covering the holes. A few skinny chickens pecked through the yard.
Gwyneth looked up questioningly at her husband, but he only dismounted and helped her down. Why would he rent out such a hard piece of land to work? Surely money wasn’t that important to him. She shivered at the bleakness of the place. Edmund went up to the house and knocked, and she followed.
After a moment, the door slowly opened. A wiry, small man stood there, clothed in brown homespun. When he saw who it was, he gave a nervous smile and opened the door wider.
“Sir Edmund, please come in.”
“Yates, we’re a little damp. We would understand if you’d like to talk outside.”
The other man looked up at the sky, then back at them in puzzlement. “Did it rain and I not know it, milord?”
Edmund sighed. “Nay, we fell into the river.”
“It was my fault,” Gwyneth quickly offered.
Edmund glanced impassively at her. “Thomas Yates, this is my wife, Lady Blackwell.”
The man bobbed his head. “Me wife’ll be pleased to meet ye, Lady Blackwell. Come right in, for a little water won’t hurt us none.”
She smiled at him and preceded Edmund inside, knowing that he had to duck to avoid the door lintel.
There was only one room, with an earthen floor and a small fireplace. There were two beds, a table, and benches. Beside the hearth stood a pale young woman, barely out of girlhood, though with two children at her skirts and a baby in her arms.
Gwyneth smiled at the girl, whose eyes widened as she nodded in return. Mr. Yates motioned for Gwyneth to take a seat on the bench, and Edmund sat at her side, with Mr. Yates opposite. His wife stayed where she was, hushing the baby who whimpered against her shoulder.
“How have things been this month, Yates?” Edmund asked.
The man looked at his folded hands. “Not good, milord. But they’ll get better. I know ye tol’ me not to take this land, but I’m workin’ hard and I’m sure things will turn around.”
Gwyneth glanced at her husband with relieved curiosity. So he’d tried to talk the Yateses out of renting this property.
“The sheep and goats seem to be healthy,” her husband continued.
Mr. Yates straightened with pride. “That they are, milord.”
“How is the farming?”
The little man’s shoulders sagged. “Comin’ along,” was all he said. He glanced at Gwyneth as his face reddened. “I’m sure next month I’ll be on time with the payment.”
“You know,” Edmund began in a casual tone that she hadn’t heard from him before, “I have a small parcel of land near the castle set off from the rest of the field by trees, so ’tis difficult for me to work properly. It will need harvesting soon, but I won’t have the time or men. Would you like to take this over? I’m sure when you bring it to market, you can get good money for the oat crop. And then it will not have gone to waste.”
