Mismatched Under the Mistletoe - Jess Michaels Page 0,32

now, mate. It’s the worst thing in the world, the greatest pain of my life and of hers, but it’s true. I love her and I know this is my last chance to have a future with her. So I have to take it. I need to take it. But I wanted to tell you…man to man.”

He shook his head. “Friend to friend. I just wish I could know if you approved it.”

As he said the last, there was a great rush of sound behind him. He turned to watch as at least twenty pheasants rose from the heavy brush in the wooded area below the burial plot. Nothing that he could see would have spooked them, and his heart ached as he glanced back at Andrew’s grave.

They had hunted pheasant on this property dozens of times over the years. It was one of their favorite pastimes when they came here. He smiled.

“I will take that as a yes,” he said with a chuckle. “And I’d best take that yes and go back before you send me some other sign and confuse me.” He rested his hand on the gravestone again. “You cannot fully grasp how much you are missed, my dearest friend. You cannot understand how deeply you are still loved.”

Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them away as he headed back down the hill and gathered up his horse. He took one last glance up the hill and then swung up and headed back toward the estate house, his mind telling him a hundred tales of good times with his old friend.

He was still lost in memory as he rode into the stable and dismounted, handing off the reins to a stable hand. The young man looked a bit flustered as he took the horse, glancing off behind him every few seconds.

“What is it?” Cav asked, confused by the young man’s distraction.

Before the boy could answer, Cav heard the sound. A loud squawking followed by a woman’s voice, cursing a streak that would have made the most hardened sailor blush.

“Is that…Lady Rutledge?” he asked, meeting the boy’s eyes.

He shifted. “Yes, sir. It is, sir.”

Cav let his eyes come shut a moment and shook his head. “I told her the troubles she would find with birds. Where is she then? Behind the stables?”

“Yes, sir. In the horse paddock,” the young man said.

Cav was already heading out the door and waved his thanks as he did so. He didn’t really need the direction. As he stepped out, Emily’s shouts grew louder, and then she cried out, “Ouch!”

He ran then, racing around the stable, but when he reached the paddock, he came to a halt. Emily was standing in the middle of the training field, blonde hair tangled around her face, dress dirty, up to her ankles in mud as she swooped her hands at a half a dozen geese.

“Six geese a-laying,” he muttered to himself with a half-smile. “Oh, Em.”

“No wonder you are eaten!” she shouted at the birds. “You are the worst things with feathers God ever put on this earth. Go this way!”

She waved her hands again, and Cav chuckled as he vaulted over the paddock fence and into the field to join her. “Do you need help?”

He expected her to laugh as she realized he had joined her, to respond to this moment with her usual good-natured aplomb. But instead she pivoted, and he saw that her face was red, tears brightening her eyes, and she scowled at him.

“Go away, Cav,” she grunted. “I’ve already made a mess of myself—I won’t see anyone else do the same for my foolishness.”

He took a step toward her despite her admonishment, and caught a glimpse of three footmen standing outside the fence, watching the entire exchange with worried expressions.

“You there, why are you not helping your lady?” Cav barked.

Emily staggered in the mud toward him and the cadre of geese hissed in unison. “Because I told them not to once I fell the third time. My boots may be filled with mud, but theirs ought not to be. Now go away.”

He shook his head. “I am not going away, not when you are obviously upset. Not to mention surrounded by angry geese.”

She waved her hands at the birds, and one of them struck his head toward her with a hiss. “They were supposed to be manageable! I wanted to put these little vests across their backs with egg decorations for the a-laying part.” She held up a muddy piece