The Fairy Tale Bride

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A scrabbling noise from the loft above cut into Simon’s consciousness.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Miranda, holding a finger to his lips that turned her bemusement into a narrow-eyed silence. He was fleetingly glad to see that her cheeks were flushed. He hoped it was a sign that he had taught her to be wary.

With the stealth and silence that had kept him alive more than once, he grasped the frayed rope that hung from a ceiling beam and handed himself slowly and silently up into the tiny loft area. Except for a little moldering hay put by in one corner, the rest of the loft was swept bare of anything but a layer of mouse and owl droppings.

Simon grabbed up the pitchfork, brandishing it as if it were a bayonet. “Come out of there now,” he said in the voice that had made his bravest men jump.

There was a twitch in the hay, but nothing more.

Simon directed his attention to the area of the twitch and swore softly at the sight of a bare foot protruding from the hay. It was covered with grime — and small. “Come out, boy.”

There was no movement from the hay. Behind him, Miranda gasped. “It is but a child you’re frightening?”

He turned his head, surprised to see that she had climbed up after him. There were not many women of his acquaintance he’d credit with the ability or inclination to climb a rope. “I can see you’ve forgotten London life, Miss Fenster. Can’t turn your back on the little beggars.”

To his surprise, though nothing he had previously done had eradicated one glimmer of the hero-worship in her eyes, his comment seemed to have brought him down a notch.

“Little beggars!” With a scornful look at him, she marched up to the pile of hay, which was trembling now, and knelt beside it. “I’m sorry if we frightened you.” When there was no further movement from within the pile of hay, she coaxed, “You must be hungry. Would you like food? I have apples and cheese and fresh bread. Why don’t you come out?”

Her voice was soft and persuasive, but the child remained hidden in the hay.

Simon’s gaze, trained as it was on Miranda’s slender back, still bared by her gaping dress, was caught by the series of shivers that shook her. With an impatient oath, he dropped the pitchfork and reached out for the child’s exposed foot. One swift pull, accompanied by a soft squeal, revealed a young girl, no more than three or four, with long blonde braids and big brown eyes.

Even Simon could not be wary of the girl once he saw how tiny and frightened she was. As he held the child in his arms and jumped from the loft to the floor below, he felt a flash of gratitude that she had made her presence known when she did. He could think of no more effective means to prevent him from seducing Miss Fenster tonight. Certainly his own willpower had failed.

He left Miranda to tend to the frightened child while he gathered wood. When he returned, chilled, but with what he hoped was enough wood to last through the night, he was not surprised to find Miranda draped in a makeshift toga, with the child beside her, cleaned up and bundled into a blanket of her own. The child held a half-eaten slice of bread in one hand and was well into the story of how she had come to be at the cottage.

“He said I was pretty as my Mam, and he gave me a sweet before he went in to her.” Her eyes rested on Miranda with complete trust, as a child might look at her mother. Simon’s gut clenched with shock at the unwelcome realization that he and Miranda might have had a child this age by now. He dropped the wood into the basket with a thunk.

“Why’d that handsome gennulmun tell me he dropped a gold piece at the crossroads?”

“I don’t know Betsy, but I can’t believe he knew you’d go looking for it and get lost.” Miranda met Simon’s gaze.