The Steward of Blackwood Hall

Chapter twenty-six - A convenient shelter

Fielding assessed the old timbers hanging precariously over their heads, and wondered whether the oak beams would hold. The remains of the barn roof projected about nine feet from the back wall, providing an area where they could remain dry. Beyond that the dark sky rumbled as large raindrops pelted down from the heavens, crashing against moss-covered stones.

He returned his attention to Anabelle, his suspicions rising. "You have been in here before."

"Yes, with Joe. We were once caught in a summer shower and hid here until it blew over."

Enough stone remained to conceal their presence from anyone who might pass by. The implication of their situation was not lost on him. "Sheltering with a child like Joe is one thing, but being here now, with a man you have not yet agreed to marry, is something quite different."

She laid a reassuring hand upon his arm. "I may have been mistaken about your consequence, but I have no concerns about your character. You will not hurt me."

Anabelle's eyes shone with trust, but it was her mouth, slightly parted, that called to him. He closed the distance between them, sliding a hand across her back as he pressed her against the wall. "Being in such close and private proximity to the woman I love, hurting you is the last thing on my mind."

She sighed and melted into his embrace, but being so close to her left him vaguely unsatisfied.

It wasn't enough. He wanted more.

Neither spoke to break the silence as he looked down into her eyes. The only sound was of the rain pattering on crinkled burdock leaves, the wind rustling in the trees and Anabelle, breathless with anticipation.

He leaned closer, lowering his head to hers. He traced a line with his finger, down her cheek and along her jaw.

Then Fielding pulled the trailing ribbon beneath her chin. He untied the bow that secured her bonnet and lifted it gently from her head, revealing Anabelle's slightly flattened nut brown curls and—finally—an unobstructed view of her face.

"That is better," he said, laying it to one side on a block of fallen masonry.

She raised her hands instinctively, her eyes wide. "If you object to my bonnet, Mr. Fielding, you only had to say."

"I have nothing against your head-wear. It is pretty in its own way, but I came to see you, not your hat."

Anabelle attempted a disapproving frown, but only succeeded in offering him an adorable pout that made him want to kiss it away. "And I suppose the Master of Meltham Park is used to getting his way in everything. My first impressions of you were correct."

"And what were they, my love?"

"That you were high-handed and presumptuous."

His laughter echoed through the partially enclosed space. "It is very true, I cannot deny it. My sisters have always said much the same. Maybe when we marry you will be able to change my ways."

"You forget, I have not yet agreed to take on the task."

He was painfully aware that she had yet to consent, but the teasing note in her voice gave him confidence. He took both her hands in his and brought them to rest upon his heart. "But you will."

Rather than being offended by his declaration she only smiled. "How certain you are in the power of your attractions."

"I know you enjoy a challenge, and what could be more challenging than the opportunity to mould a husband to your liking?"