My One and Only Earl (Forever Yours #12) - Stacy Reid Page 0,1

seen for himself.

Now I will be forever late to see you one last time, my friend.

How many blows could one endure before crumbling? James shifted the umbrella and lifted his face to the sky, accepting the icy sting of the rain pelting his forehead. Many. I am now the earl with immeasurable responsibilities. I will bear and shoulder a thousand blows if necessary.

Heavy grief weighing on his shoulders, holding the umbrella firmly, James made his way over to the small bridge leading from the main estate to the village. There was a private pathway, and he made use of it, walking steadily. The mud sucked at his boots, and the stinging rain blew beneath the shelter of the umbrella and slapped at his face. Yet he did not allow it to bother him. He spied an overflowing brook through the sleeting rain in the distance with some stone benches arranged beside it. There he would sit, watch the swollen brook, and perhaps say a few words to Richard.

If there was an afterlife, perhaps his friend would hear him.

Picking up his pace, a few moments later, James stopped in his tracks. A young lady garbed in a bright green dress sat on one of the stone benches, uncaring of the downpour. Her attire did not indicate a member of the family. Everyone earlier had been swathed in black. She was soaked, and a mass of vibrant black hair clung in limp curls over her forehead, shoulders and back. And the most heartbreaking sounds sawed from her throat.

This grief was intimate and tugged at the aching regret and pain lingering inside his heart. Feeling as if he violated her privacy, he turned around only to falter. The girl would catch her death should she allow the rain to pummel her so. At the very least, he could offer her shelter under his umbrella. James turned around and walked over to her. Unexpectedly her head snapped up, and he met her wide-eyed stare.

She had the prettiest silver-grey eyes he had ever seen. They were bright and glossy with tears and reminded him of a spark of lightning in the dark. She was younger than he had first assumed, perhaps a lady of about twenty years, and the beauty of her eyes and hair seemed to be the only things remarkable about her. She looked like a little cat on the verge of drowning.

She returned her regard to the large stone protruding from the brook as if his sudden appearance were inconsequential. James understood. This lady had escaped here to be alone. He had chosen to walk in the miserable cold, back to the inn some five miles away, because he wanted to be alone.

James strolled over and sat, much closer than he would have if the situation were different. When the rain disappeared from her, she glanced up at his umbrella. She did not profess any gratitude, but when her eyes, filled with tears and misery, settled on his face, James felt the touch of them deep inside his body. It was irrational and nonsensical to think it, but the sensations were profound and inescapable.

Without speaking, she shifted her eyes back to the brook. James respected her silence and made no effort to speak. He then noted the toad, trying valiantly to fight against the churning water to perch onto the boulder. Each time it found some purchase, it slid back down into the water, perhaps onto another piece of boulder under the surface. A jump was attempted, and once again, the toad was at the bottom. They watched the toad in silence until it was successful in reaching atop the large stone. There it sat, staring out into the lush green forestry of the surrounding, uncaring of the relentless rain.

“Who might you be, sir?” she finally asked, her mouth trembling as if she fought with her tears.

Unexpectedly he noted that said mouth was lushly curved, that she was delightfully plump, and her dress strained at the seams of her décolletage. “Forgive my intrusion,” said James, feeling uncomfortable for noticing her sensuality at this moment. “It was not ill-intended. I am James Delaney.”

“Mr. James Delaney?”

He hesitated but was reluctant to mention he was now the Earl of Kingsley. Clearly, Richard had not mentioned it to anyone. It felt entirely unnecessary for James to do so; hence he replied, “You seem to know who I am.”

“You are Richard’s friend that he tells….” Her voice hitched. “Told me so much about?”

His heart jerked. Richard had