Page 14 of To Bed the Bride
“No, miss.”
Yet he’d taken the time to tell the maid that she had a voice like a mother’s lullaby. What, exactly, did that mean?
“Thank you, Sally,” Eleanor said, picking up the puppy and heading for the stable.
Maud was skittish, but that might have something to do with the dark clouds on the horizon. Many of the horses at Hearthmere were high-strung and didn’t like storms.
She gauged the distance versus the sky and thought that she’d have plenty of time to reach the shepherd, hand over the puppy, and return to the stable before the storm arrived. Or, it might do as storms sometimes did, veer to the east or west and miss them entirely.
The sheep weren’t on the road now. Instead, they were contentedly grazing on the slope of the glen. She stopped almost exactly where she had yesterday morning, but the figure on the hill didn’t descend. Nor did the dogs.
Finally, tired of waiting, she raised her arm and waved, hoping the shepherd would see her and know that she wanted to speak to him. Otherwise, she would have to take Maud up the hill, which could be dangerous for the mare. Or leave Maud on the road and climb the hill herself.
She raised her arm again. She knew that he’d seen her, but the irritating man didn’t come down.
The stable boy had handed the basket up to her once she was mounted. Now she didn’t know how to handle the puppy while she dismounted. She was too high to simply drop the basket.
The shepherd had a great deal to answer for. She had a few thoughts about an apt punishment as she tied the reins to the basket handle before wrapping them around the pommel. Once she dismounted she untied the basket.
She would have to climb the hill with the puppy. The least the shepherd could have done was make this easier for her, but of course he knew what she was going to do. He didn’t want his gift returned.
That was unfortunate, because she had every intention of doing exactly that. You didn’t simply leave a puppy with someone, especially when that person didn’t care for dogs. There was a reason for her antipathy, but she wasn’t going to share it with him. All she was going to do was hand over the basket, turn, and walk away.
There wasn’t any reason to exchange a word with the annoying man.
Chapter Seven
A rumble of thunder had her glancing toward the sky. The storm clouds were approaching a little faster now. If she didn’t hurry, the storm was going to be on top of them before she returned Maud to the stable.
The distance to the top of the hill was a little farther than it looked. The puppy kept peeking his head out of the top of the basket and she had to coax him back inside.
“I’m sure you’re a very nice puppy,” she said, halfway up the hill. “I’m sure you’ll be a good companion to someone. It won’t be me, however. I don’t like dogs, you see.”
He only whined in response, which was understandable, especially if you got the gist of what she was saying. She didn’t suppose she would like it if someone talked badly about her species. In a way, people did, all the time. Scottish women were sometimes portrayed as fishwives in English newspapers. As if they alone were responsible for every political decision made in Scotland. As if Scottish men were under the thumbs of their wives. Nothing could be further from the truth, but that didn’t stop the newspapers from featuring their unflattering cartoons.
Finally she was at the top of the hill, and for just a moment she turned to survey the view. She might choose to be a shepherd if it meant witnessing such beauty every day. The only companions were the sheep. Perhaps after a few hours she would become accustomed to the various sounds they made.
Turning, she looked for the shepherd, but he had disappeared.
What kind of game was this idiotic man playing?
The clouds were darkening and growing closer, blown across the sky by a fierce September wind. If she didn’t hurry, she and Maud were going to be drenched and that would certainly anger Mr. Contino. As far as he was concerned, the horses came first. If anyone forgot that lesson they were the target of his temper. She wasn’t exempt, despite being his employer.
She didn’t know the shepherd’s name and didn’t want to call out,Shepherd!Besides, she wasn’t sure he would hear her over the sheep’s increasingly loud complaints. Did sheep fare well in the rain? How strange that she didn’t know. She hadn’t made an effort to seek out Hearthmere’s flock or even their shepherd.
She pushed her way through the sheep, finding some of them quite willing to give way. Others, like the one that blocked her path, were prepared to be obstinate. Were sheep always difficult to manage?
“What are you about?”
She turned to find that the owner of the voice was an older man wearing a long, dark brown coat, something that reminded her of a monk’s habit, but open in the front. He planted his crook in the earth and eyed her with a frown, his wrinkled face bearing witness to years—if not decades—out in the elements.
The dogs at his side were the same ones that had frightened her before. Peter and Paul, unlikely names for vicious beasts.
“Are you Old Ned?” she asked, since he resembled her housekeeper’s description.
“Aye, that I am.”
She hadn’t heard such a thick brogue since her father died, and it took a minute for her mind to translate the words into some semblance of English. She’d let her knowledge of Gaelic fade through the years or she would have asked him a question in that language.
