Margo Maguire (5 page)

Charlotte turned to Lilly for an explanation, even as Lilly blushed at his frank words.

She explained the situation to Charlotte, who had little understanding of such things. Frowning, the
younger woman blinked several times, then looked at her cat.

“Watch now,” Mr. Temple said, as if Charlotte could hear. “But don’t touch her. She’s concentrating.”

Lilly did not know whether to shoo Charlotte out of the barn or allow her to stay and watch. It was wholly improper for a lady to watch such an intimate event with a man—a stranger—but the wonder of birth enthralled her.

Sitting back on her heels, Lilly actually felt reassured by the presence of Mr. Temple, who clearly had some knowledge of what was taking place here.

Duncan panted and continued to whimper.

Charlotte was not the only one who had little understanding of such things. Ravenwell had never kept any breeding animals, and Lilly rarely visited any of the farms, besides Tom Fletcher’s, so she was also inexperienced. But she’d heard talk, something Charlotte would never do.

The cat’s mewling seemed to intensify and Lilly began to worry. There was concern in Charlotte’s eyes, too, but that had been there from the start.

“What’s happening, Mr. Temple?” Lilly inquired. “Why is she… She seems to be struggling.” She didn’t know quite what to ask.

“I’m afraid she might need some help,” he said.

When the cat gave a loud screech of distress, he moved too quickly for Lilly to feel much embarrassment at his actions. Gently taking hold of the cat’s hindquarters, he placed his little finger, firmly but smoothly, into the birth passage, stretching it.

“Easy now, Duncan,” he said quietly, moving his
finger just far enough to expand the opening. “Your kittens will be out soon.”

Charlotte made several rapid hand motions to Lilly.

“Charlotte wants to know if she can hold the kittens after…?”

“Not right away,” he replied. “Let Duncan clean them up and then see how she feels about it.”

Though his hands were big, he was gentle with the mother cat, treating her as if she were a prize animal. He spoke kindly to Charlotte, too, even though he knew she could not hear him.

The first kitten came out with a sound that made Lilly smile. Charlotte was clearly in awe as she gazed at the tiny creature. Once it was safely out, and the birth process seemed to be progressing as nature intended, Mr. Temple sat back. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand while the three of them watched Duncan deliver her kittens. An attractive cleft appeared in his cheek as he relaxed and smiled at Charlotte, then at the new kittens.

Charlotte pointed to each kitten as it appeared, counting them. She held up her fingers to show that there were eight in all, then asked another question.

“Charlotte is wondering if Duncan is, er, finished now.”

“It looks that way,” he replied. “No need to blush, Miss Tearwater. Birth is a perfectly respectable process. Nothing shameful about it.”

Charlotte caught Lilly’s attention again. “Are there more kittens?” she asked on Charlotte’s behalf. “She’s pushing again.”

“She must deliver the afterbirth—the tissue that
nourishes the babies while they’re inside,” Mr. Temple explained.

Lilly should have felt shocked by his words, but she was more curious than embarrassed. She was certain Aunt Maude would never have allowed the two of them to remain in the barn, witnessing such a coarse event. But watching Mr. Temple, and seeing the pleasure in his eyes as he observed Duncan giving birth, gave Lilly an insight into something she’d never considered before.

That such a natural wonder was anything
but
the dirty, sordid business it was purported to be.

Charlotte clapped her hands together and pointed at the mother cat cleaning her new babies.

“You seem quite experienced in these matters, Mr. Temple,” Lilly said.

“Hmm?” One of the kittens struggled to move, and Mr. Temple pushed some straw away so that it could wriggle over to its mother. “Birth?”

As Charlotte delighted in the sight of the new kittens and Duncan’s new motherly attention, Mr. Temple turned to face Lilly in the dusty, filtered light of the barn. “Yes, I’ve seen a few new creatures into the world,” he said, his voice low and intimate. His eyes darkened. “And witnessed a few ugly deaths, too.”

M
iss Tearwater must have buttoned her bodice in haste.

The sight of her crisp white blouse with its fastenings askew made Sam’s blood hum. He’d barely recovered from the first aid she’d given him in the kitchen before instinct made him go rushing into the barn after the two Ravenwell women, certain that some disaster threatened.

Of course, nothing had been amiss. This was England. Civilized, refined England.

But now that the cat had delivered her kittens, Sam felt a familiar tightening in his chest and some difficulty drawing a breath. He had to get out of there. That dim corner of the barn, with all its earthy scents, and Miss Tearwater who knelt beside him, her own scent like the flowers she so lovingly tended…

Hastily, he rose to his feet.

“Will Duncan—”

“She’ll be fine now,” he stated. Which was more than he could say for himself.

A moment later, he stood outside, bracing one arm
against the stone wall of the barn, taking big, gulping breaths. He was a fool to have come all the way to Cumbria. He wasn’t going to be able to prove anything about the ghosts, and it was possible that he could get the appointment to the Royal College without doing any further work on the bee project. His reputation alone would—

“Thank you, Mr. Temple,” said Miss Tearwater, coming into the bright sunlight, “for helping with Charlotte’s cat. I’m sure I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with much more poise than he felt. “Duncan probably would have managed even without my interference.”

“But if she hadn’t, Charlotte would have been devastated and— Mr. Temple, are you all right?”

He pushed away from the wall and brushed his hands together. “Of course.”

“Will you let me repay you for your—”

“It’s not necessary, Miss Tearwater. Good day.” He started walking toward the inn, hoping she wouldn’t follow.

But she did. And she took hold of his arm.

Sam recoiled.

“I…I’m sorry,” Miss Tearwater said. “I didn’t mean to…” She frowned, justifiably puzzled. “Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not,” Sam said, turning away. He was not compelled to give an explanation for his aversion to her touch. He wished things were different. God, but he wished he could touch her.

Sam could not remember the last time a woman had tempted him the way Lilly Tearwater did. Just
looking at her made his head pound and his hands ache to touch her.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said quietly.

“Miss Tearwater.” He swallowed. And kept his distance. “You did not offend me. I…” He glanced at the treetops, then across the wide farm fields in the distance. He did not want to alienate her; he needed to get her to trust him. To talk to him about the ghosts. “Do you suppose I could get some lunch up at the inn?”

She blinked her astonishing eyes twice in surprise. She must think him an idiot, unable to hold one thought for more than half a minute. “Of course,” she said. “Come with me.”

Lilly reined in her joy as she perused the new books that had arrived with the afternoon post. She’d been too busy to look at them sooner, but now that supper was being served, she had a few minutes to skim through
Egyptian Treasures
and
Athens of Antiquity
before she had to make Sir Emmett and Lady Alice appear.

The faraway places of the world fascinated Lilly, especially the ones with ancient histories, like Egypt. She turned the page to view another photographic plate. What she wouldn’t give to travel to Cairo and see the pyramids for herself. Or go to Rome to see the Coliseum, Athens and the Parthenon.

She sighed. None of that would ever happen. She’d promised Maude that she’d stay and take care of Charlotte—and Ravenwell.

Even if Lilly managed to earn enough money from Ravenwell to take the kind of trip she longed for, Charlotte would never be able to go. She did not deal
well with change, and only managed strangers because she was comfortable and protected in her own environment.

Lilly knew this because of a short trip she’d taken to London with Charlotte and Maude only a year before Maude’s death. Charlotte had been horrified by all the traffic and people. She had been terribly nervous and unable to eat or sleep. Clearly, she was not meant to leave their own familiar, pastoral setting, which meant that Lilly had to stay, too.

But Lilly could dream. She satisfied her wander-lust by poring over her books of exotic places.

The books were not inexpensive. Lilly bought the ones that had good quality photographs because they helped her to visualize the foreign settings. Sometimes when she went to bed at night, she lay in the dark, seeing the pictures in her mind. She could almost hear the sounds and smell the sharp aromas of Persia, of South America, of Africa.

She sighed. She was not unhappy at Ravenwell. Lilly often had to remind herself of that, especially in summer, when the inn had guests visiting from all over the world.

But she was not content, either.

Maude had hoped that Lilly and Tom Fletcher would marry one day, but Lilly couldn’t think of Tom as anything but a brother. He was a wonderful man who helped her and Charlotte whenever they needed it, but he could never be her husband.

Lilly would never wed. She was tied to Ravenwell—and to Charlotte. And though Charlotte was an agreeable and tractable young woman, Lilly didn’t think there was a man alive who would be willing to take on the responsibility of a wife, as well
as her impaired “sister.” At least, she hadn’t met one yet.

But if she had to dream up a man who would love and care for her, he would be someone like Samuel Temple… Tall and handsome, with a patient voice and a kind smile.

He’d been very sweet with Charlotte this afternoon, but when he’d stood with Lilly outside the barn, he’d been distant and surly. She didn’t know what she’d done to upset him so. Surely her light touch on his arm hadn’t been the cause.

She had been admiring his patience with Charlotte, and feeling grateful for his help, when she’d touched him, imagining him taking her into his arms and…

Better not to take that particular fancy any further. Proper young ladies didn’t spend their time imagining brawny chests or masculine chins. They didn’t think about kisses or caresses.

Lilly turned the page and focused her attention on the photographs of an Egyptian marketplace. It looked so exotic, so exciting! If only—

“Henry Sanderson hardly ever left his hotel when he researched that book.”

Startled, Lilly looked up into Samuel’s eyes, then down at the title page of her book. The author was Henry Sanderson.

“You
know
Mr. Sanderson?”

He shook his head. “Not really. We met a few times when I was in Cairo three years ago. Timid fellow. Didn’t like to go out into the streets.”

“B-but he—”

“Paid a photographer to get all those pictures,”
Mr. Temple said. “And interviewed quite a number of locals for the information he put into the text.”

“Oh no!” she cried. “Don’t tell me that!”

“All right. Sorry.” He was rightly abashed by her reaction. “You have an interest in Egypt?”

Lilly nodded, and Samuel pushed an edge of the book to angle it toward him. “There is a shop right here—” he pointed to the corner of the picture “—where they say Lord Chester’s wife met with her paramour every Tuesday afternoon.”

Lilly was shocked by the outrageousness of his statement, but intrigued, nonetheless. “Lord Chester?”

“Or so the rumor goes.”

“You actually saw… You’ve been to Cairo?”

He nodded and straightened to his full height. “Many times,” he replied. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. What about Ravenwell? This is an unusual place.”

She turned the page to another photograph and braced herself for a spate of intrusive questions. “Not so very. It was once a manor house, owned by the Barnaby family. It’s been an inn for more than fifty years.”

“And haunted for all that time?”

“I imagine so,” she replied, glancing up to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t here for most of it,” she said, her voice nearly scorching him.

He was properly abashed, but continued with his questions, anyway. “Did you live here as a child?”

“I did.”

“Your name isn’t Barnaby.”

“You are very observant,” she replied. She recognized his tactics. There had been others who had
quizzed her unmercifully about the ghosts. Lilly knew that the best way to handle a skeptic was to be direct. “Is there something in particular that you’d like to know about Ravenwell?”

He shook his head. “Just wondering about the place. Seems old.”

Lilly was taken off guard. This was not how the questioning usually went. Most only cared about the ghosts. “Y-yes. The manor house was built during the reign of King James. The original family died out and the house eventually came to the Barnabys early in the last century.”

“It looks as if you kept a lot of the original artifacts.”

“Yes. And now it’s my turn to ask—what was it like in Egypt? Did you see the pyramids? What about Thebes and the temples—”

He held up a hand to silence her, but Lilly started to page through her book, looking for the sites she wanted him to describe. “Are the pillars—”

“Much taller than they appear here. And the sun is so hot it would blister your fair skin after only an hour in it.”

“That’s what I want to know—how it feels, how it smells. Is it wonderful?”

The expression of rapture on Miss Tearwater’s face should have been saved for something altogether different. Sam swallowed and forced his mind away from such ungentlemanly thoughts. If she had an interest in Egypt, then he would tell her all about the place.

For a price.

He was going to get her to tell him everything she
knew about the haunting of Ravenwell Cottage. Aware that he’d blundered last night with his flippant remark about the lights, and his earlier reaction to her inadvertent touch, Sam would be careful not to put her on the defensive again. She would be much more likely to slip up if she trusted him.

“I enjoyed Egypt when I was there as a child,” he said. More recently, Professor Kelton and the rest of their party had met in Aswân before starting on their trek to Khartoum. “It’s a fascinating country.”

“What did you see?” Her interest was so intense it was nearly palpable.

Sam shrugged. He supposed his childhood had made him take much of his experiences for granted, but now he wanted nothing more than to forget them—especially the last eight months. “We saw the Philae temples and Abu Simbel before going south into Sudan.”

“Sudan? Oh…”

She actually sighed with ecstasy, and Sam’s body reacted the way that he’d thought had been lost forever. Her mouth formed a perfect O, and Sam could think of nothing but how it would taste, of how her delicate shoulders would feel under his hands if only—

“Miss Tearwater?”

A man’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Sam turned and took note of the short Englishman he’d encountered on his first night, the fellow who’d asked to explore the attic. “Miss Tearwater, I wonder if I might have a word…”

“Certainly, Mr. Payton,” she replied, closing her book and sliding it beneath the high desk that sep
arated her from the rest of the room. “I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Temple.”

“How do you do?” Payton said, taking Sam’s hand. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

Sam felt his skin go clammy, but he managed to mutter a greeting.

“Miss Tearwater, do you have any idea whether Sir Emmett or Lady Alice will appear again tonight? Or is it more likely they’ll be at rest for a few more days?”

“Well…”

She appeared unabashed, considering the question carefully. And as Sam recovered from Payton’s handshake, he felt the irreverent urge to applaud her performance.

“It is my experience that they are entirely unpredictable, Mr. Payton. Why, I remember a time when everyone was in the garden, enjoying their coffee or brandy, and Sir Emmett appeared in the parlor, just there.” She pointed to the next room. “I was the only one here. But by the time I went to fetch all the guests to come and see him, he was gone.”

“Oh! A dashed shame!” Payton growled, while Sam restrained the urge to laugh out loud.

“But Lady Alice actually did appear a while later—up in the attic window.”

Sam just bet she had.

A loud shattering of glass sounded somewhere in the inn. The sound came from upstairs, if Sam was not mistaken.

“Oh dear,” Miss Tearwater said. “What now?”

“I’d better go out and see to Mrs. Payton,” said the little man as he rushed out of the room.

“I wonder where Charlotte could be.”

Sam scratched his head. He had seen Charlotte only a few minutes before. “She’s in the barn with her cat. Shall we investigate the noise?”

His hostess surprised him by agreeing to his company. “Upstairs, I think.”

A few minutes later, they had checked all the empty rooms for a broken window or any other kind of glass. “Shall we try the attic?” Sam asked. He wanted to get up there and see if they’d concealed pulleys or wires.

Miss Tearwater nodded and opened a door. She started to go up the steep staircase, but turned back to Sam. “We’ll need a lamp.”

“There’s one in my room. Come with me,” he said, unwilling to let her out of his sight. “You shouldn’t go up there in the dark.”

He picked up the lamp from his bedside table and they returned to the stairs. Sam took the lead.

“Good gracious!”

Window glass was scattered all over the floor, all the way to the steps. Sam raised the lamp, illuminating the space that was cluttered with typical attic discards. Trunks and furniture, old lamps and framed paintings, a few rolled-up rugs… Any mechanism could be concealed here, and it would take days, perhaps weeks, to discover it.

“I wonder what happened,” Sam said. He walked across the glass to the window on the opposite side and looked down into the terrace garden.

A group of people stood together in the twilight, while a hazy light hovered nearby. Sam squinted his eyes and attempted to make out the figure. “What’s that?” he asked.