Song of the Heart - Alexa Aston Page 0,51

has found a good home. Go find a place for the rest of the litter.”

The woman thanked him profusely and went on her way.

“Thank you, Papa. I shall love him forever and ever.” She nestled the kitten under her neck and he playfully licked her ear, causing her to giggle.

“What shall you name him, Lyssa?” asked Madeleine.

“I shall call him Luke,” she informed them.

Garrett sucked in a breath. “Why would you choose a person’s name, Lyssa? Why not Patches or Scratch or—”

“Papa,” interrupted Lyssa, “his name is Luke, like your brother. Aga told me you loved him very much and I shall love my Luke even more.” She kissed the kitten on the top of his head and skipped away.

“Madeleine!” Edgar came hurrying toward them. “There’s a bit of a problem that requires your attention.”

Chapter Fourteen

Madeleine pushed through the small crowd that had gathered near a stall selling fritters and fruit tarts. She saw what had to be Evan sitting on the ground. At least she assumed it was Evan.

“How did he get his head stuck in a bucket?” she asked, trying to bite back a grin.

Edgar shrugged. “I don’t rightly know, Madeleine. You know our Evan, though. Where there’s Evan, trouble’s bound to catch up.”

“Mmmppmmpphh!” The muffled sound came from beneath the bucket.

Edgar tapped on the surface. “I brung Madeleine!” he bellowed. “She’ll be getting you out in no time.”

He turned back to her. “Won’t let no one near him. Keeps pulling up on it and falling down. I knew you’d know what to do.”

At that moment, Evan fell back upon the ground, feet kicking wildly as he tried to extract his head from the bucket.

“It’s Madeleine, Evan,” she said in the calmest, most authoritative voice she could muster. “Quit squirming about and sit quietly. I want to see how tightly you’re wedged in.”

He obeyed her immediately, his small chest heaving as she reached her hand inside. The wooden pail sat firmly wedged around his head, mashing his nose to one side. His hair was warm and damp.

“You’re a brave lad, Evan,” she said, patting his shoulder. “We’ll get you out, but it requires patience on your part. Can you be still?”

The bucket nodded. The group assembled lost their battle to hide their smiles.

Madeleine turned to Edgar. “I need pig’s grease—and plenty of it.”

The mummer practically flew from his spot to do her bidding, almost bowling Lord Montayne over in the process.

“’Scuse me, my lord.” Edgar bobbed his head several times and raced off.

Lyssa ran forward and dropped down beside Evan. She patted his hand as she tried to look under the bucket.

“Can you hear me, Evan?” she hollered.

A muffled “Yes,” came from within.

“Feel my kitten, Evan.” She took his hand, guiding it until he touched fur. “This is Luke, my new kitten. He likes being petted.”

Evan sat, bucket atop his head, stroking the small furball until Edgar arrived.

“Back with the grease, Madeleine. Don’t ask how I got it.”

She laughed and took the pail he held. Kneeling, she told Evan, “You’ll smell awfully bad in a moment, Evan. Breathe from your mouth when it gets foul.”

Taking a handful from the container, she rubbed the grease around Evan’s neck and the edges of the bucket that imprisoned him.

“May I help?” the earl asked.

Madeleine shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord. You’ll get yourself dirty.”

He laughed. “Madeleine, I was once a little boy. I know what it’s like to be dirty.”

She studied him thoughtfully. She could just imagine him as a young boy, dirt smudged on his cheeks and matted hair. Then she pictured a bucket atop his head now. Her robust laugh filled the air.

“If you wish,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “I could use an extra pair of hands.” Madeleine thought it unusual that a nobleman would even care about a peasant child’s predicament but Lord Montayne was proving to be different from any man she’d met.

She plunged her hands back into the pail and he did likewise. As their hands touched in the grease, his eyes met hers. A shiver rushed through her. His hands clasped hers for a brief moment before he released them. He scooped a goodly amount of grease from the pail and she followed his lead.

Together, they lubricated Evan’s neck, working the oily filth into his hair and along the sides of the bucket. Each time their fingers met, her belly fluttered as if butterflies had been loosened inside it. She bit her lip, trying to concentrate on the task at