Page 41 of The Major's Mistake
“Miranda, will you please ring for Joseph so that he may go to the stable and ask Angus to bring round Julian’s horse.” Shesmiled in apology. “You must forgive us that thing take a little longer here—we are a small household.”
“Please, you needn’t bother—I’m perfectly able to see myself to the stable.” He gave a quick smile. “Besides, I’ve caused enough extra work for the poor fellow. He looked as if reaching the kitchen were a tough enough ordeal. I should hate to think of him having to trek to the stable as well.”
“Oh, dear.” Lady Thornton was torn between being practical and being less than hospitable. “I don’t feel right about making you?—”
“I shall see His Lordship to the stable, if he truly doesn’t mind saddling his horse. Or, I can wake Angus?—”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Lady Thornton flashed Miranda a smile of gratitude. “Thank you, my dear.”
“I’ll just fetch a lantern, and have Maggie bring you your coat, sir.”
The two of them started down the path in silence, each seeming unsure as to how to recapture the easy tone of their earlier words. Caught up in his own thoughts, the marquess failed to notice the paving stones give way to a simple dirt path and his toe caught on a rut, causing him to stumble forward.
Miranda caught his elbow as she swung the beam of light to illuminate the path. “Have a care, sir. The way becomes rather rough here.”
He brought his arm in close by his side, so that her hand would remain where it was. “Thank you.” After a moment he added with some vehemence, “Sorry—I’m nought but a clumsy … fool these days.”
Her hand tightened its hold.
On reaching the stable, Julian slid the door open and stepped aside for Miranda to lead the way inside. She went to hang the lantern on a peg protruding from one of the thick oak beams.
“I can find my way back without it. You’ll need it to saddle Zeus. Remember to blow out the flame when you leave.”
He reached out as she made to pass.
She stopped as his hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“I … I enjoyed the evening very much, Miranda.”
Her chin came up slowly. “As did I, sir.”
The look in her eyes tore through his heart.
“The devil take it, I’ve missed you,” he blurted out.
Surprise and some other emotion swept across her pale face. As she started to speak, he lowered his head and took her lips in a gentle kiss.
She went rigid with shock, then slowly relaxed into his arms. Twining his fingers in her silky hair, Julian pulled her closer. To his elation, her mouth softened under the pressure from his—for a few ethereal moments she was returning the kiss. Then, just as suddenly, she wrenched away and fell back a step with a low cry.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, half dazed with the fierceness of his own emotion. “I didn’t mean ….”
Miranda hand came up to brush over her lips, as if in disbelief at what had taken place. “I imagine I know very well what you meant,” she replied shakily. “No doubt you have passed more time than you are accustomed to without the benefits of your expensive mistresses or other willing ladies—and there is precious little choice of females around here.” There was a catch in her voice. “But despite what you think, sir, I do not tumble into bed with a man who is not my husband.”
She turned and fled, but not before Julian caught a glint of a tear in the light of the lantern.
“Miranda!” he cried hoarsely. He made to rush after her but somehow one of the pitchforks leaning against the wall became dislodged and fell between his legs, causing him to stumble awkwardly against a large bin of grain. By the time he recovered his footing, she had disappeared into the black void of the night.
A string of curses rained from his lips as his fist slammed into the rough wood. With a harried sigh, he gave up any thought of pursuing her and turned around toward the stalls.
A slight movement in the flickering shadows caught his eye. Standing near the wall was a shadowed figure, but despite the darkness, a smirk of grim satisfaction was evident on the hulking groom’s face.
Without a word, Angus made to go by him. As he drew even, he paused, his lips curled upward in contempt. Slowly, deliberately, he cleared his throat, then spit onto Julian’s well-polished Hessians.
All the anger, frustration and longing exploded within him. With a grunt of rage, he launched himself at the other man, sending both of them crashing into the side of an empty stall. They wrestled for a moment before Angus, the larger and heavier of the two, managed to control the marquess’s flailing arms and thrust him away.
Julian regained a modicum of self-control though his chest was still heaving with pent up fury. “Come on, then,” he growled, stripping off his elegant coat of midnight blue superfine. “You want me, you shall have me.”
