When a Girl Loves an Earl (Rescued from Ruin Book 5) Read Free

provide as the Earl of Tannenbrook.”
    “Ye maun gae, Jamie,” Mam said quietly.
    He shoved from his chair. Approached his small mother. Grasped her roughened hands in his. “I dinna want this, Mam,” he murmured desperately, feeling like a wee lad again, begging her permission to go fishing rather than sweep floors at the smithy.
    Her answer, as it had then, shone in her steady eyes, the relaxed, unsmiling mouth. She accepted what life demanded of her, and he must do the same.
    He let her fingers slide through his, feeling his future crack along a fault he’d failed to see. In the space of seconds, the life he’d been carving for himself split open and crumbled into something unrecognizable. Unwanted. Unavoidable.
    “We should depart as soon as possible, Mr. Kilbrenner. The fifth earl suffered a long illness, and the estate has fallen into some disrepair. Many critical matters require your attention.”
    Gritting his teeth, he dropped his eyes to his boots. Curled his fingers into fists. “Weel-a-weel,” he muttered. “In the mornin’. First light. Ye may stay fer dinner if ye like.”
    “Oh, but—”
    “I hae matters of my oon tae attend, Mr. Hargrave.” He did not care that his voice emerged as a bark or that Hargrave was twenty years his elder or that his mother was frowning at his rudeness. “An’ that is how it shall be. Ye ken?”
    A brief silence was followed by Hargrave’s reply, muted and respectful—disturbing to Jamie’s ears. “Yes, my lord.”
     
    *~*~*
     
    She was there, waiting beneath the eave. When he descended the last hill on the road to her father’s farm, sodden to the bone and hollowed out until he echoed inside, he saw first the flowered cotton of her skirts, then the wisps of her hair, a shade darker than wet sandstone.
    “Alison,” he murmured, seeing her bonnie face peeking around the corner of the stone dairy barn, her smile welcoming and relieved. He loped the remaining fifty yards, ducking past a low-hanging oak limb. He swiped at the wet leaves with one hand and reached for her waist with the other, swooping in to take her lips with his.
    Husky, feminine laughter greeted him. Strong, feminine hands snaked beneath his arms to clutch his back. “Jamie,” she mumbled against his mouth as her firm bosoms pressed into his chest. “I wondered if ye’d come.”
    He loved her voice, low and brambly. He loved that she was tall and robust, her muscles sleek from tending cows and wringing laundry and hauling water. Whenever her thighs squeezed his hips, their strength left him little fear that he would break her.
    And now, he must leave her behind. Although it would only be for a short while, the ache of their parting sliced sharp and cold.
    “Ah, Alison,” he groaned, dropping his forehead upon her broad shoulder, feeling her stroke his back in long, soothing motions.
    “Where hae ye been? I waited an hour longer than I should hae. Mam will be wonderin’ why it takes sae long tae milk four cows. What kept ye?”
    She always smelled the same, like grass and earth and milk. Not sweet or flowery, but good. Just good. He breathed her in, hoping he could hold a bit of her inside him while he was gone. “I’ve news,” he rasped. “I dinna like it. But I must leave fer England.”
    Her muscles tensed against him, freezing in place. Her cheek was warm against his ear. “England?”
    He pulled away long enough to explain about Mr. Hargrave and the bloody English title he did not want. He watched the color fade from her cheeks as he described his new circumstances. “There be an estate, one I must see tae straight away. But I swear this tae ye, my bonnie Alison: I shall return here. And when I dae, we shall marry. Nothin’ shall stop us. Nothin’ has changed.”
    Eyes lowered to his chest, she idly plucked at his shirt’s ties, her body terribly still.
    “Luik at me,” he demanded.
    She complied, but eyes typically as warm as fresh-brewed tea shone flat and solemn. Wide