The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,43

not realize gin was forbidden to a governess, Lord Wilton."

Cara bristled at Julian's chuckle. The Hall came into sight and she relaxed, relieved that her forced proximity to her husband's disturbing presence would soon be at an end. Julian pulled Tyrr to a halt at the back entrance to the children's wing. Dismounting he reached up and encircled Cara's waist, swinging her to the ground.

"May I suggest, Miss Farraday, that in the future you confine your walks to the paths rather than risk another bruised ankle."

With a gasp of outrage Cara skewered Wilton with a flash of scorn. Flags of color flamed high on her cheeks as she drew herself erect. Julian thought she resembled nothing so much as a ruffled hen.

"And may I suggest, Lord Wilton, that in future you forbid the use of those poaching traps. Richard and Belin are always afoot in those woods and it very well could have been one of them in the trap today." With that parting shot, Cara turned and limped into the Hall.

Damn the girl, Julian cursed as he leaped into the saddle. The unmitigated gall of the chit to chastise him for following the local practices.

He drummed his heels into Tyrr's sides and the startled horse snorted in annoyance.

Racing up through the woods, Julian's anger abated and he thought about the governess' last words. It was apparent from her begrimed appearance that she had helped someone out of the trap. It was immaterial who it had been. What mattered most to Julian was that it might very well have been Richard or Belin. The mere thought of the tiny girl with a leg mangled by the iron teeth of the trap gave Julian a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wouldn't hurt to put the word to Clemson, the gamekeeper, to dismantle the traps. As long as everyone believed they were still in use they would act as a deterrent to poachers.

Julian puzzled over the perverse little governess as he rode back to the Hall. The Duchess and his, as yet unseen, bride had saddled him with a surprise package. He thought he had hired a passive obedient servant, but the contrary wench turned into a fire-breather whenever she was crossed. Perhaps if this trait had been used to benefit herself, Julian could dismiss her from his mind. It appeared that the little American only fought in others defense, never in her own. She was both intriguing and fascinating. He would definitely have to spend more time with the children in the schoolroom.

Cara hobbled into the Hall. Muttering maledictions over her misfortune in running into Lord Wilton, she reached the safety of her room. When she glanced at herself in the mirror she shuddered. What a hoyden Julian must think her. She was forever covered with dirt, dust or perspiration. He mingled with powdered and scented ladies who combined beauty and grace to present a soothing picture. Every time she ran into him she was filthy and presented the image of a viperous tongued shrew.

"Miss Farraday?"

Hearing Richard's whispered voice Cara scrubbed her face briskly and then crossed to let in the anxious boy.

"Will Pennyfeather be all right, Miss Farraday?" There was a slight quiver to the boy's chin as he stared up at his governess.

"Don't worry, Richard," Cara said placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "He'll be out after rabbits in no time at all."

"Topping good!" His face glowed with relief then he flushed as he remembered her own injuries. "And how is your ankle? I could get some liniment from Mrs. Clayton for you."

"I'd appreciate that, Richard. It's a bit sore but I'm sure it will be fine by tomorrow."

Cara smiled as the boy scampered down the corridor, whistling now that all was right with his world. For the remainder of the evening Cara's ankle was propped up on pillows while the children entertained her. As she listened to the songs and the stories her mind only occasionally wandered to a dark haired man with brooding brown eyes.

Chapter Eight

"Stroke with your arms, Richard," Cara shouted to the boy thrashing wildly in the water. "That's right. Now you've got it."

Holding her skirt up out of the water, Cara leaned over and splashed cool water on her perspiring face. The hot muggy summer day had only an occasional puffy cloud to obscure the punishing rays of the sun. Cara unbuttoned the collar of her dress and cursed the rough cotton material that clung in damp folds to