Love With the Perfect Scoundrel by Sophia Nash Read Free Book Online Page A

here.” He glanced at her fingers and captured one to examine it. His touch was sure and warm and he looked pleased by her hand’s appearance. “You’re very lucky. Do they tingle? If not, I’m thinking you’ll keep these pretty fingers, every one.”
    She disengaged her hand from his, but felt very self-conscious and inadvertently knocked against the sticky honey pot, tilting it.
    In a flash he righted it, then recaptured her hand to wipe her knuckles with a damp cloth. The action left her feeling like a helpless child. “Mr. Ranier, I’d prefer to sit in that cheery front room, if it is all the same to you—or to help you in some way.”
    “Sweetheart”—a slow smile graced his face—“I’m happy to examine your injury in there, or even here in the kitchen if you’d prefer. I’d just thought you’d be more at your ease above stairs.”
    She started. “The wound is healing perfectly. There’s absolutely no need for you to trouble yourself. I promise to examine it most faithfully,” she added quickly when she saw his features change. “ Hourly , if need be.”
    His eyes crinkled in the corners from withheld mirth. “I’d no idea a widow could be quite so modest. The ones I’ve known never seemed to share your sensibilities. Quite to the contrary, actually.”
    Her patience deserted her in a rush. “That speaks volumes about the women you are acquainted with, Mr. Ranier.” She stopped with horror. Had she really just insulted him in such an outrageous fashion? And after everything he had done to save her.
    He tipped back his head and laughed. “You’re entirely correct, Mrs. Sheffey. Now, come along. I see I’ve not a chance of herding you upstairs. I think we can postpone the examination for now, but I insist you rest. It’ll take a day or two before you feel more the thing.” He rose and collected his hat. “Well, I’ve much to do. There’s a barn full of sheep to see to, not to mention the other animals, and I’ve but a wide-eyed lad of five and ten to assist me.”
    “Please allow me to help in some way,” she pleaded softly, not rising.
    He straightened and looked down to examine her appearance. “Such determination. Well then. Shall I count on you to start dinner after you rest a bit? But only if you are truly feeling up to it, Countess.”
    Her throat tightened in panic.
    “I’ll just retrieve the bit of mutton from the cold storage before I take my leave. The vegetables and flour are in the larder’s bins—all good for a stew. I even spied a round of butter and apples if you favor a pie. I’ll return with Timmy, say, ’round about two o’clock?”
    “Of course,” she managed to reply with what she hoped was a facsimile of a smile glued to her face.
    He grinned, smoothed his wild dark mane of hair before donning his hat, and crossed the small room, only to turn back toward her. “Are you certain you’re feeling well enough? You don’t have to do this, you know. I could get it started in a trice.”
    “No, no. I’m perfectly fine.”
    He nodded once and was gone, with only the sound of presumably an entire mutton carcass being dropped inside the side entrance a few moments later.
    Perfectly fine . Right. Perhaps it was time to strike those two words from her vocabulary.
    Good old Sam. Michael couldn’t believe his superior fortune as he looked over the barns and the animals within. There was just a tickle of disquiet lurking in his mind. Good fortune had never found its way to him, and so he distrusted it.
    “That’s the last of the water for the sheep, Timmy,” Michael said to the lad, teetering on manhood, who stood beside him. “Let’s see to the horses next.”
    “Yes, sir,” the boy said with reverence and a bit of fear in his eyes.
    Michael had tried to put the boy at ease upon meeting him, with little success. People were often in awe of his stature and did not easily forget him—not a good trait for someone attempting to blend in.
    “Never heard such a