Tempted By His Secret Cinderella (Allied At The Altar Book 3) Page 14

  ‘That’s not true!’ she protested quickly, automatically. ‘You’re very good with people when you want to be. You were so kind to Eliza last night.’ Elidh remembered how he’d taken time to sit with Eliza when she’d been alone on the sofa before the musicale started.

  ‘Yet I was far happier chasing a croquet ball in the woods than returning to the party,’ he corrected with a laugh. ‘When given the chance to socialise, I’ll always choose animals over people.’

  ‘Why is that, do you suppose?’ she asked softly. This was a new piece of him he’d not yet revealed, a new layer to turn back. Certainly, he’d made no secret of resenting the conditions surrounding the party and he’d made no secret to her of his disappointment with the girls. But this was a new layer, a layer that might explain the reason for his reticence to socialise despite the fact that he was equipped for it in both looks and manners.

  Her comment drew his gaze. He shook his head with a sad smile. ‘I suppose it’s because animals are more honest. One always knows where one stands with them. Even if they don’t like you, at least you’re clear on it. I was disappointed in love once. There was a girl who turned out to be less than I had hoped. It was a painful lesson in the nuances of society. I’d never felt that way about anyone before and it hurt for a long while. That was reason enough to withdraw, but when I stopped licking my wounds, I simply couldn’t find a reason to go back. Why would I spend my time among frauds and hypocrites, where everyone tries so very hard to be something other than themselves?’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘Now you see why I resent this party so much. It seems everything has come full circle and I must choose one of them. I must play the games I despise. Worst of all, it forces me to become a thing I hate.’

  Yes, now she saw not only the source of his resentment, but so much more. She could never tell him her truth. Never. That option was firmly gone. Whatever hurt this other girl had meted out to him, her betrayal would be so much worse because it would be the second time. He might never allow himself to love again. She could not be responsible for that. Sutton Keynes was a good man, caught in an untenable position. He deserved better. He deserved a chance to find love. His words had stung. Why would I spend my time among frauds and hypocrites? There was one standing right beside him and he’d bared his soul to her.

  She was touched that he’d shared something so deeply personal and yet panicked by the revelation, too. Sutton was not a man who would tell just anyone such a thing. It was sign of his growing esteem for her, as if she needed another painful reminder. There were kisses between them and now there were secrets, private disclosures of the heart. ‘I’m sorry you were hurt,’ she offered gently. What else could she say?

  He shrugged. ‘I survived. Enough about me. What about you?’ Some of the sparkle returned to his eyes. ‘Have you ever been in love, Chiara?’

  She laughed to cover her embarrassment. ‘What a bold question!’

  He nudged her foot with his boot. ‘Come on, tell me. I’ve told you a secret, it’s only fair you respond in kind.’

  ‘No. I haven’t been in love before.’

  ‘That’s it? Just no? No explanation? That’s not fair,’ Sutton teased. ‘I poured myself out to you. Why not? Hasn’t anyone captured your fancy?’

  No one but you. You with your honesty and blue eyes, she thought. But that was another truth she couldn’t speak out loud.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘There hasn’t been time.’ Elidh groped for a suitable answer and found this one to be true. Who would she have met? Who would have claimed her heart the way Sutton had claimed it in so short a time?

  ‘Time?’ Sutton persisted with a probing smile, inviting her to say more.

  She slid him a nervous smile. Like him, she seldom talked about herself. Her life was taken up with other things; rent, the stress of their meagre finances, and Bermondsey Street didn’t boast a social whirl she enjoyed. ‘As you’ve noted, people take a lot of work.’

  His chuckle encouraged her. They started walking again along the fence line as she talked. ‘My father, for instance, he takes a lot of work. Ever since my mother died, I have a new appreciation for how she kept him in line. We both miss her. She brought balance to our little family. I’ve tried my best, but I can’t compete. I’m not her.’ Not in temperament, not in looks.

  ‘I miss my father, too. It will be five years this autumn. He died in India. He caught a fever on a business trip. Now, I feel I need to be there for my mother, to take care of her the way he took care of her.’

  ‘I don’t think your mother needs looking after,’ Elidh put in. Catherine Keynes always appeared in charge. She was quite intimidating at times, in fact.

  ‘She doesn’t, not in an obvious way,’ Sutton acceded. ‘But I don’t like her to worry. I don’t want her to be alone. She will always have a place with me at Hartswood. Father would have wanted that. But I’m not him. He loved adventure, the risk of a business gamble, but that’s not me at all.’ He gestured to the field around them. ‘I like it here. I’d be content to stay in Newmarket for ever and never leave.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘That must sound boring to you. You travel.’

  ‘Only because circumstances demand it.’ It was true as far as it went. ‘My father needed to get away and I can’t imagine leaving my father on his own. It would be a disaster.’

  Sutton turned the mare back towards the stables and a slid her a warm look that nearly melted her. ‘Your father, my mother, your goose, my mare, my camels—we have quite the menagerie between us.’ And more than that. Here was a man who shared her love of home, of permanence, of the people in their lives. Both of them were very intentional about who received their attentions and affections.

  ‘That’s the sort of people we are. We collect those in need,’ Elidh offered.

  The mare stopped and heaved, swaying for a moment from hoof to hoof as a contraction took her. Sutton flashed her a smile of gratitude. ‘How did you know to walk her?’

  ‘We had a goat when I was growing up.’ The words were out before she could rethink them. Her relief had made her careless and Sutton noticed.

  He arched a dark brow. ‘Really? A princess had a goat for a pet?’

  ‘Well, you have camels,’ she shot back with a directness that was becoming second nature. Perhaps she’d keep that quality once the ruse was over. ‘I told you my father is a handful, always has been. He brought home a monkey once.’

  They settled the mare back in her stall, careful to keep her on her feet lest the foals settle down once more and labour fail to progress. Sutton leaned against the stall door. ‘Thank you, for being here, for being stubborn enough to make me bring you. It will be a while now. Labour can last up to eight hours and horses prefer to foal at night, the later the better, it seems. Would you like to go back to the house? I can have someone drive you up in the pony cart.’

  ‘If you’re staying here, I am staying, too.’ Elidh stroked the mare’s long nose and murmured to the horse, ‘You’re going to be all right. You’re going to be a mother soon and I am not going anywhere until that happens.’

  Sutton shifted uncomfortably. ‘I appreciate the sentiment, but perhaps staying isn’t the best idea. You’ll ruin your...’

  ‘Reputation?’ Elidh put in.

  ‘I was going to say “your dress,” but reputation, yes.’ Sutton looked serious. ‘We’re here alone.’

  ‘Surrounded by your grooms,’ Elidh argued. In truth, she was loath to go, reputation in question or not. She felt as if she’d finally discovered the real Sutton.

  ‘Still, we’re here alone. Away from the guests,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I think it’s too late to worry about my reputation,’ Elidh said honestly. ‘Last night sealed it. The girls did not take kindly to my performance or yours.’

  ‘Is that why you were upset this morning?’ Sutton asked. She told him about her eavesdropping an
d he shrugged apologetically. ‘I suppose you’re angry with me?’

  ‘I should be. But I’m not, truly.’ She could not summon any anger for this man who’d also been thrust into an unwanted situation, this man who loved his mother as she loved her father, this man who gave his heart to those around him who needed him.

  When it came to giving hearts, she might be in grave jeopardy of giving her own. As they stood there, stroking the mare, it occurred to Elidh she was going to leave with a broken heart when this all ended, and it would. The end was in sight, the party nearly down to its final stretch. What would happen to her then? How would she survive leaving Sutton? The mare shook with another contraction. ‘It will be all right,’ Elidh soothed the horse. But the words and the hopes they engendered were just as much for herself.

  * * *

  Everything was all right. For a while. Through the long afternoon of waiting, she and Sutton sat on hay bales outside the mare’s stall and talked away the afternoon. He told her about his camels and his horses, how horses only feared camels if they weren’t raised with them and all kinds of sundry trivia. She didn’t mind. He could talk about camels all he wanted. It was becoming increasingly obvious that his joy was her joy. Elidh preferred to let him talk. It was best if they didn’t talk about her, best if she didn’t have to spin lies about a life she didn’t really live.

  They looked after the gosling, setting him down to waddle around the stable floor as evening fell. His foot was getting better. ‘Soon he’ll be able to go back to the lake.’ A look passed between them, her words raising thoughts of other returns that would have to be made. The gosling wasn’t the only one faced with going back. Sutton would have to make decisions soon. She would leave before that. She didn’t think she could stay and watch him choose a girl, knowing what it cost them both.

  ‘Who will you choose?’ Elidh asked softly, picking up the unspoken conversation between them. After today, after seeing him in the stables, she couldn’t imagine him with any of the other girls. Not for a lifetime.

  ‘I don’t know, truly, I don’t.’ Resignation shadowed his eyes and the sight of it pained her. ‘Chiara, what if—’ he began, and she cut him off swiftly, afraid of what he might ask her.

  ‘You could give the fortune up. Perhaps marriage is too high a price to pay to protect your cousin from fiscal irresponsibility. He has to grow up at some point.’ She couldn’t save herself, but perhaps she could save him, persuade him that he didn’t have to fulfil the conditions of the will. ‘Let him fritter away money on fine clothes and luxuries if it buys you your freedom, your happiness.’

  Sutton shook his head. ‘If only it were just that. It’s more than an abundance of fine living. To put it delicately, my cousin is entirely without morals. He will use the money to perpetuate a level of corruption I hesitate to discuss openly. My uncle knew this.’ He was being delicate. Elidh heard it in his careful word choice. ‘I am committed to this path, even if I am not committed to my choice.’

  Behind them in the stall, the mare gave a groan. Sutton was on his feet and beside the horse. The mare went to her knees and on to her side. Sutton’s hand was on her belly. He checked her flanks. ‘She’s sweating.’ There was excitement in his voice. ‘I think this is it. It won’t be long now.’

  ‘Shall I get anything?’ Elidh asked.

  ‘No, mares don’t need any assistance unless something goes wrong.’ He patted the mare’s neck. ‘She’ll do fine. Horses have been doing this for thousands of years.’

  * * *

  But the mare wasn’t fine. An hour later, there’d been no progress and the horse was clearly pushing. ‘Hold her head,’ he instructed softly, moving behind the mare. A few moments later, he swore softly. ‘The placenta is coming first. The foal can’t breathe. I need scissors.’

  Elidh rose, ‘I’ll get them.’ She raced to the tack room and found them hanging on a wall. When she returned, Sutton was working with the mare, his hands on her belly, competent hands, strong hands, tracing the outline of the foals while his voice murmured soothing words. She let the sight of him imprint on her mind: all that gentleness, all that love. She wanted to carry this image of him with her always. Perhaps this was the moment, watching him lavish the mare with his attentions and care, that she knew the hard truth. She loved him, this man who drank camel’s milk and disdained society. It was going to hurt like hell to lose him. She’d come to that realisation, too, throughout the long day. She was going to lose him sooner or later. But before that happened, she wanted to have him, just once.

  * * *

  He would not lose her! By God, he would save the mare and the babies, too. Sutton took the scissors from Chiara with a grateful, grim nod and went to work. The next few minutes were critical. The foal would suffocate if he could not free it. With single-minded determination, Sutton set about cutting the placenta, careful not to nick the foal. Then it was time to reach, to guide the foal out into the world so it could breathe on its own. He shut his eyes, letting touch guide him. He could hear Chiara’s calming voice at the mare’s head, her lovely accent soothing the distraught animal. She’d been more help today than she knew. Her presence alone had brought him peace of mind while he waited for the mare to deliver. He was glad she was here now, never mind how unpleasant the situation. She hadn’t flinched once.

  There! He felt the foal’s leg. At last the foal was in the perfect position. Sutton drew out one leg, then the other, then gently reached for the head and finally the foal was out. ‘Chiara, take him, settle him with his mother, let her clean her baby up,’ Sutton instructed. There was no time to celebrate yet, not while there was the other foal to save, a foal who’d had no choice but to survive without oxygen slightly longer than his brother.

  He closed his eyes and reached once more, aware only that Chiara had come for the colt. He could hear the rustle of hay as she settled it with the mare. He found the foot. He didn’t like where it was positioned, it was as if the foal hadn’t quite completed its turn. Not necessarily unusual given that space was a premium when two foals shared an area meant for one. Still, it made delivery difficult. He brought the leg forward and then the other, moving the foal bit by careful bit, caution and urgency warring within him. Too much caution on his part meant more time without oxygen for the foal. Too much urgency on his part risked the mare.

  ‘Hold on, hold on, just a little longer, hold on,’ he muttered the litany under his breath, encouragement for the unseen foal, encouragement for himself. He felt Chiara with him, standing beside him.

  ‘You can do it, Sutton,’ she said softly, lending him strength with her confidence that he could do anything. He hoped she was right. Then the foal was out, smaller than his brother, stiller than his brother. No, he wasn’t too late, he hadn’t been too slow. No, he would not accept that. Sutton took the foal to the mare, helping her to clear the amnion from the baby in hopes it would help with breathing. Precious seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then the colt’s chest moved, haltingly, sputtering at first, becoming steady.

  ‘He’s breathing, Sutton. He’s alive.’ Chiara was crying, overwhelmed with joy, her response equal to the emotion of the moment. ‘You did it, Sutton, you saved them!’ She was in his arms then and they were laughing together, crying together, never mind that his clothes were covered in grime. Chiara’s dress had fared only marginally better after a day in the barn. It didn’t matter. The foals were here, alive, and whatever it was between he and Chiara was alive as well. The truth of it thrummed through his veins. She was the one he wanted, the one he could build a life with. Even at the dangerous end of the birth, she’d believed in him, never doubted him, and it filled him with a certain, confident euphoria that overrode common sense, that overrode the scars of Anabeth Morely’s betrayal and the fear of giving his heart again. If he could, he would choose her. Would she choose him? In the moment, the other end of that equation seemed irrelevant. It was enough to hold her, to celebrate w
ith her.

  The first foal found his legs and staggered over to nurse. The second did not. Sutton felt Chiara’s grip on him tighten in worry and anticipation. The mare nudged the little foal, encouraging him to move, to stand and then a little miracle happened. The first foal turned back to his brother and nuzzled him with his nose as his mother pushed once more, the two of them coaxing. The second foal tried once, twice, three times, and stood on trembling legs, his brother leading him to nurse.

  Chiara’s eyes shone up at Sutton with a glow that had nothing to do with the size of his bank account, but the size of his heart, the size of what they’d witnessed and participated in tonight, and the realisation moved him. Her arms were about his neck, her head tilted up to him, a smile that brimmed with life and love and a celebration of both on her beautiful lips just before she kissed him, hard and full on his mouth.

  She was intoxicating like this, her hair down, her dress a mess beyond saving. She’d never looked less like a princess or more lovely. Her hips moved against him and he had her face in his hands, the kiss deepening, intensifying as the emotions of the night swept over them both. He should have stopped it there, should have known better. But he didn’t. Perhaps it was the thrill of saving a life, or the potency of witnessing the great miracle of birth, the creation of a family, that pushed him to recklessness, or maybe it was something more he wasn’t willing to name yet, and neither was she.

  When Chiara breathed the words, ‘I don’t want to go back tonight’, he didn’t insist on reasoning with her. He knew what she was asking, what she wanted. They were of one mind on that account. After this afternoon, it seemed inevitable that their day would end like this. He led her to the small apartment he kept above the stables for all those nights when he didn’t want to go back either.

  Chapter Sixteen