Tremaine's True Love by Grace Burrowes Read Free Book Online Page A

family’s disgruntlement.
    “Then deny them even tea trays,” Nick said, for the situation was vexing his countess and stern measures were in order.
    Leah balled up half a sheet of paper and tossed it into the fire. Probably lobster and trifle on Tuesday night.
    “Will you forgo your morning chocolate too, Nicholas? Will you make me give up mine? Your siblings are not sheep, to be herded together for the convenience of their shepherd.”
    The only full-time shepherd Nick employed had a fondness for the bottle.
    “Damned sheep,” Nick grumbled. “My sympathy for the challenges Papa faced as the earl grows daily. I ran into Edward Nash at the apothecary yesterday. He hinted strongly that the very herds St. Michael wants to buy would make a lovely dowry for Susannah.”
    Another half sheet went hurtling into the conflagration. “Mr. Nash is presuming.”
    Mr. Nash was hinting and dithering, while poor Susannah likely went to bed each night praying for a ring from the man. Nick could not afford a large cash settlement for each sister, and Nash’s hints hadn’t been entirely unwelcome.
    “We own an embarrassment of sheep, lovey mine, maybe even enough to entice two handsome bachelors to the altar, but what aren’t you telling me?”
    Two pieces of paper remained. These Leah folded and stuffed into a pocket of her cape. “The moon was bright last night, Nicholas.”
    Nick hopped down and wrapped his arms around his wife, for he could hear voices beyond the door and what Leah had to say was for Nick’s ears only. Her shape had changed since she’d become a mother, and she fit against him more comfortably than ever, though her logic eluded him.
    He nuzzled her ear. “The moon was bright and…?”
    “And when Nita came in from her errand last night, she must have come upon Mr. St. Michael in the stables.”
    “I threatened to fire Jacobs for leaving Nita at that woman’s cottage, but hurling lordly thunderbolts is pointless. The staff is in the habit of doing as Nita tells them.”
    Fortunately, Nita had told them to heed the countess’s direction in all things, or a delicate situation would have grown impossible, for in her way, Leah was as stubborn as Nita.
    “You’re all in the habit of doing as Nita tells you,” Leah said, “and that is not her fault. She and Mr. St. Michael tarried in the gazebo.”
    Nick left off kissing his wife’s chin, for a gazebo on a midwinter night was nowhere to tarry for mere conversation.
    “Last night was colder than the ninth circle of hell,” Nick muttered. Complete with a ring around the moon portending snow.
    Leah rested her cheek against his chest while, beyond the door, somebody called for Atlas and the Scottish gent’s gelding to be saddled.
    “Exactly, Nicholas. Despite the cold and darkness, despite having no prior acquaintance with the man, Nita tarried in the gazebo with Mr. St. Michael, and, Nicholas?”
    He was becoming aroused, and his dear lady was happily tucking herself closer to him. Whenever Nick held his wife for more than a moment, desire flared, and he wondered why, in the name of all that was sweet, young men avoided holy matrimony.
    To bargain over sheep, for God’s sake?
    “Lovey?”
    “Nita blew out the lamp, and still, Mr. St. Michael remained in the gazebo with her.”

Three
     
    “Mr. St. Michael, I assure you, you need not accompany me.”
    Lady Nita headed for the stables at a pace the King’s mail would have envied, though Tremaine’s longer legs allowed him to keep up easily.
    “You’ll ride across frozen ground alone, then?” Tremaine asked pleasantly. “Risk your mount slipping on a patch of ice? End up in a ditch, there to freeze while hoping for an early spring?”
    Her ladyship came to an abrupt halt beside the gazebo where they’d spent a few chilly moments the previous evening. Lady Nita’s skirts swished about her boots in a susurration any grown man would hear as indignant.
    “My plans are not your affair,