Chapter Three

T he storm was horrid and growing worse by the moment. Eve hunched over her mare's neck and squinted through the thick white flurries. Darkness would be upon her far too soon.

She patted Starlight's shoulder and murmured praise. The gentle beast didn't deserve to be out in such weather. They both needed shelter and food. Eve cursed her foolishness. It had taken far too long to saddle Starlight and sneak out of her family's home. The rain began shortly after, slowing her travel even more. She feared she was only halfway to the church Rose spoke of. Worse, she was lost.

"Come on, girl. A little farther. We'll find somewhere warm and dry to rest." At least this weather would make it hard for her father to find her. Maybe she could find an inn and trade a small piece of her mother's jewelry for a room. The thought of staying somewhere without a chaperone scared her, but her options were few.

The mare plodded along, their tracks swiftly covered with snow. Eve pulled her cloak tighter around her, peering out from beneath the hood as the road inclined.

"Maybe we'll see a place to shelter soon."

Starlight gave a faint whicker in response. A few steps later, she faltered. Eve fought to keep her seat as the mare stumbled, going to one knee. She lost her handhold and fell from her saddle, landing hard on her bottom.

"Ow."

Her mare surged back to her feet, taking an awkward step forward. She limped another few paces, favoring the leg she went down on. Eve scrabbled to her feet and placed a soothing hand on her horse's shoulder, then bent to check the hoof. In the darkness, it was almost impossible to tell if her mare had picked up a stone. They couldn't continue much farther without risking further injury.

Taking the reins, she slowly led the mare up the last of the hill. Night was fully upon them now. The wind howled and flurries of snow whipped around her face. Eve's chest grew tight. She couldn't see anything. The last town was too far back to turn around. But what choice did she have? She could barely see the road. Oh heavens, could she even find her way back to that town?

Eve fought down the panic gripping her. She'd run for fear of being wed to a man who would breed her and lock her away forever. Instead, she might possibly freeze to death with her horse. A hysterical laugh bubbled up at the thought. There had to be somewhere she could go. Anything would be welcome so long as they could shelter out of the storm.

She turned in a slow circle, peering through the flurries into the darkness. There! In the distance, atop what appeared to be another hill, was a faint glow of light.

"It's our only hope," she told Starlight.

The horse slowly followed. It took ages to cross the distance. Eve could no longer feel her hands or feet. She placed one foot before the other and sent up endless prayers for help and shelter.

The glow came from a window on the second floor of a huge manor. Eve couldn't make out much detail in the snowy darkness, but the structure seemed imposing. An enormous iron gate blocked the lane leading to the house, open just wide enough for a person to slide through. The metal was cold beneath her gloved hands and snow blocked it from moving freely. She pushed and shoved until the gate opened wide enough to fit them both.

They staggered through and made their way as quickly up the lane as her mare could go. Starlight limped from exertion and injury.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling her eyes sting as tears threatened. "This is my fault." She prayed the owner of the manor would take them in.

The front doors were huge with large lion's head door knockers. Grasping one, she knocked. The resulting pounds made the wood beneath vibrate.

A long moment passed. Eve knocked again and pressed her ear to the wood, straining to hear even the faintest footsteps. "Someone must be home." She leaned closer to the door. "Oh!"

The door suddenly swung open. Eve pitched forward, landing against a hard, warm body. Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her upright.

"What the bloody hell?" a gruff voice grumbled.

She should be shocked at the man's language. At that moment, she was too cold and grateful to care. With effort, Eve pulled away from the wonderful heat of the man's body and looked up, sucking in a startled breath.

He was quite possibly the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

His black hair was too long for current fashion and the long locks fell over his forehead. Silver dusted his temples and threaded through the dark strands. His square jaw was covered in a couple of days' beard growth, and a linen shirt, open at the neck, revealed golden skin she knew to be warm.

"Who are you?" he demanded, setting her away.

Eve hesitated. Should she give her true name and title? What if he tried to send her back to her father? At the same time, she was a terrible liar and would get tangled in her lies.

"Well?"

"Eve," she replied. "We were caught in the storm and my horse pulled up lame. Please. We need shelter."

Stormy blue eyes glittered down at her. "Remove your hood."

Her fingers trembled as she pushed the hood back.

The man grumbled a dark curse. He looked past her to her mare and frowned. "Dash it all. Come inside and warm yourself." He opened the door wider.

She grabbed her small satchel of belongings and slipped past him, painfully aware of his displeasure to have her there. The warmth of the hall overrode her concern for his impression, however. She removed her sodden cloak and gloves, grateful that she could almost feel her fingers again.

"My lord?" a man said as he entered the hall, pulling the sash on his robe and removing a stocking cap from his head, stuffing it in his pocket. He blinked at her, eyebrows raised, then took her cloak and gloves.

"See to the woman and have Mary fix her tea. Her horse has an injury that must be seen to. I'll take it to the stable and rouse Thomas."

"Right away, my lord."

Eve stilled as the first man, the attractive one, came closer. He hadn't introduced himself, though she gathered that this was his home. He stared down at her and she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. His face concealed his every emotion. Was he angry to have a woman fall into his arms unannounced on his doorstep?

The man reached forward and lifted a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. With a last lingering, unfathomable look, he stepped through the front door and closed it behind him, shutting out the cold.

Eve shivered and her belly quivered with a feeling she couldn't describe.

The shorter man stepped in front of her, drawing her attention back to her predicament. "Now then, Miss. Let's have your name."

"Eve."

He eyed her. "I'll wager it's a bit more than that. My name is Virgil, butler to his lordship. This way, please."

"Who is he?" Eve followed Virgil up the wide stairs. The hall was dimly lit with only a few candles, leaving the wide space draped in shadows. The walls were paneled and held no paintings, making the manor feel austere. Yet the delicately carved balusters and thick carpet beneath her feet hinted that the house had once been more elaborate.

"The Earl of Stamford," the butler replied.

His name was unfamiliar to Eve.

At the landing, Virgil guided her to an open door. Eve entered and found herself in a study. Here, paintings of fox hunts hung on the walls and a carved wooden desk sat to one side. Behind it, she spotted a low shelf with books. Two chairs and a table sat before a fire that burned low, offering welcoming heat. Eve felt the warmth against her skin and moved closer. She stretched out her hands, trying to warm her fingers.

Virgil stooped to stoke the fire and added another log. "Warm yourself. I'll have my wife, Mary, bring you some tea. Excuse me while I fetch her."

"Of course," she murmured.

"And Miss? Welcome to Greyhaven Manor."

He left, and she found herself alone. The fire crackled and popped as the wind howled outside. Ice and snow pattered against the panes and a tree scratched against a window with an eerie sound that made her arms prickle. A thump sounded from the floor above. Was that where Virgil and his wife slept? How many others were in the house? Perhaps Stamford had a wife and family. Her heart gave an uncomfortable shift at the thought.

"Foolish," she muttered to herself. She was here because she was running from marriage to an older man. Stamford, with his graying hair, was not the young man she wished to wed one day. Even if he wasn't married, it made little difference. But the hollow feeling in her stomach called her a liar.

Several minutes later, a mighty yowl came from the hallway, and then an orange tabby cat sauntered in, ears and tail twitching, and eyed her. Apparently, he found her lacking because he made his way to the chair by the fire and hopped onto the cushion, putting his back to her.

"Hello, kitty. Are you friendly?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, then dug his claws into the cushion.

"Oh, I think you'll be in trouble if you do that." She reached over to unhook his nails from the fabric.

The cat bumped his head against her arm and purred.

"Don't mind him. Alfred believes this house is his and we are but his servants," a woman said as she entered, carrying a tray laden with tea and a bowl of something that smelled divine, and set it on the desk. Her red hair was plaited over one shoulder, but the braid couldn't hold the wild curls that puffed in every direction and caught the firelight with glimmers of auburn. Small lines etched the corner of kind, green eyes.

"I'm Mary. You met my husband Virgil and his lordship?"

"I met Virgil. I spoke to his lordship, though no introductions were made."

Mary chuckled. "He's not one for visitors. What were you doing out in this storm, anyway? And without a chaperone?"

Eve flushed. She hadn't even considered what she might say to explain her appearance. "I…" Drat it, she couldn't lie. "I was traveling to a church when the storm began. I thought the downpour would be brief. I hadn't expected snow."

"It's rare to see flurries this early." Mary pursed her lips. "On your way to the friars at Kirkby, then?"

She couldn't contain her surprise. "How did you know?"

Mary poured a cup of steaming tea and motioned for Eve to take a seat by the fire. Alfred claimed his spot by sprawling over the cushion.

"I'll let him have his chair. I'm a guest, after all." Eve chose the chair beside it and accepted the tea.

"You wouldn't be the first to seek sanctuary," Mary said. "Spent a bit of time there myself."

The hot tea felt heavenly sliding down her throat. She was still soaked through, but the fire and the tea helped tremendously. Eve wasn't sure how to respond to the woman. If she revealed too much, she feared they would send her home. "Thank you, Mary. This is lovely. Once the storm clears, I will be on my way." As long as her horse was fit to travel. "I do hope my horse will be all right."

"Our groom has years of experience with horses, miss. If the injury is more than Thomas can heal, we also have a blacksmith in the village we can call upon. From the looks of this storm, I say you'll be with us a day or two. I'll prepare a room for you." Mary motioned to the tray. "Mutton stew and bread if you're hungry."

"I'm famished."

"Then eat. And don't let Alfred get too demanding. If he believes you'll give him any stew, you'll never get rid of him."

The cat's head popped up over the arm of the chair and he stared at the bowl.

Eve laughed.

Mary gave Alfred a wink and left.

"Well, Alfred. It is you and I and this bowl of stew. What do you think?"

The cat meowed but remained seated.

"Very kind of you. Tell me about your master." Eve picked up the bowl and settled back into the comfort of the chair. The wind continued to howl outside, and a tree scraped against the windowpane. The rest of the house remained eerily silent.