Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,44

her inner thigh. She shook the memory away, blushing furiously.

Stockwick sighed. “I swear the next time I hold mistletoe over your head, it will be in a more private setting with no small person potentially listening or watching what we do,” he promised. “Maybe then you won’t feel as if you’ve betrayed him.”

Before she could say she hadn’t even thought of her husband, Hector went to the fire to play games with her son.

Ruby turned away to the window, confused by her feelings. Should she even feel guilty over a simple kiss delivered under mistletoe from a childhood friend?

Chapter Nine

Hector tossed the lad up over his shoulder. “Young man, you are in danger of becoming lost in all this snow,” he warned.

Pip giggled, kicked his legs, then thrust out his arms wide. “Look at me! I’m flying!”

“Yes, but backward.” Hector kept a firm grip on the boy as he trudged through the deep snow until they reached the stables, and then sat him down safely.

Pip was devilishly keen to see the horses today. Hector had seen the signs that his mother was fast losing her composure with the way Pip was carrying on inside and had offered to take the boy out to give her breathing space. Of course, the boy, unfamiliar with The Vynes, had run off immediately when they’d set foot outside and found the deepest patch of snow to become mired in. Hector had fished him out, and saved him from the next danger, too. Carrying him seemed the most expeditious way to get to where he wanted to go before they froze.

They quickly slipped into the stables and shut out the cold. The Vynes’ stables were extensive and heated by regularly spaced, enclosed fires, but it was his men that Hector was interested in seeing first. He put a steadying hand on Pip’s shoulders, so he didn’t run off. “Hello,” Hector called.

Twelve men suddenly appeared from the shadows from all parts of the stable. “Yes, my lord?”

“Franklin Jones?” he called out.

“Here, my lord.” Hector’s coachman pushed through the crowd. “Do you need the carriage made ready to leave?”

“Not in this weather. I wouldn’t do that to you again so soon.” Hector laughed. “Actually, what I have in mind is something that will require minimal effort on your part.”

“We are at your service, of course.”

Hector looked down at the boy. “Do you happen to know the location of a pile of clean hay the boy can jump about on? In?”

Franklin Jones grinned. “Indeed I do, and likely I have someone who might be very willing to join him, too.”

He turned away, spoke to someone inside a chamber, and returned with a boy a few years older than Pip. The boy had an unusual scar across one side of his face and a wide smile.

“This is Allan. He’d be pleased to play with the young master for a while.”

Allan rushed forward to claim Pip by the hand, and they ran off together to an empty stall.

Mr. Jones shrugged. “He’s a good lad, but not too bright.”

Hector kept track of where Pip went. “What happened to his face?”

“A horse kicked him when he was younger. It doesn’t seem likely he’ll ever grow up completely now.”

“Ah,” Hector said with a sigh. “That is unfortunate.”

“A momentary distraction and the boy fell into harm’s way. It happens all the time, but at least here, he’ll always be cared for.”

Hector heard Pip squeal and moved closer to the stall to see what was going on. The boy had straw on his clothes already and was reaching for another handful to throw up into the air.

Hector relaxed. “I’m surprised Lord Vyne was so generous as to house him.”

Jones joined him. “He wasn’t. Lord Vyne has little idea of what goes on beyond the great house anymore.”

“So I gather,” Hector said with a laugh as he pulled a small flask of whiskey from his coat pocket. “For your aches and pains. To help you sleep.”

Jones beamed. “Thank ye.”

Hector poked his head over the stable wall again, only to find Pip starting to tunnel into the hay pile. Young Allan raced around to the other side and started his tunnel, too. “They look to be well matched for their game.”

Jones nodded. “Who is the young one?”

“I would have thought you knew more than I?”

“Never seen him before in my life.”

“This is Lord Vyne’s great-nephew. Mrs. Ruby Roper’s son.”

“Is that right? Hadn’t heard anything about another relative come to stay.”

That was odd. Servants always knew everything.

There was