he did. Her half-frozen feet and legs threatened to fail her. She took hold of the saddle with her other hand.
“Have you ever known me not to show up intact, Feller?” His lordship swung himself down easily, smiling at the groom.
“Nay, me lord, saving that time in Orissa. You wasn’t by no means intact on that occasion.” Feller grinned. “I told Burnside, I did, ‘Just you watch. He’ll turn up like a bad penny, he will.’ And here you are.”
“And here I am,” agreed his lordship. “This lady is Miss Kethley. As you can see, she and her cob suffered a mishap on the road.”
“That I do see.” Feller turned to examine the sturdy horse, frowning. “Poor old mate here is a mite bunged up.”
He released Iantha’s arm, moving to her horse. As he did, Iantha felt her knees give way and clutched again at the saddle.
“Careful, now!” Lord Duncan stepped quickly to throw a supporting arm around her waist. “Are you faint?”
“No.” Iantha shook her head. “Just cold and stiff. I will be fine in a minute.”
“Perhaps.” He scowled doubtfully. “Shall I carry you?”
“No!” The denial emerged much more sharply than she had intended. “I mean…thank you. That isn’t necessary.”
“Let me help you, then.” His lordship still looked doubtful. “We need to get you to a fire. We’ll go up through the old castle, to avoid the wind.” He tightened his arm around her and guided her toward a door at the side of the stable.
Close. He was much too close.
Iantha shut her eyes, drew in a long breath and forbade herself to pull away. If she did that, she would surely find herself sitting on the ground. She could endure his proximity for a few minutes.
Control.
He led her through the stable door and up a flight of steep spiral steps. At the top they wound through a series of short passages with narrow doors, each facing a different direction.
“This is the portal to the original castle,” he explained. “The turns were designed to keep out an invading force. This section was abandoned long ago, but we still use it to come up from the stable when we wish to avoid the weather.” They emerged from an empty stone chamber through a newer door into a wide entry hall. Lord Duncan removed his shallow-crowned hat and knocked the snow off it against his leg, revealing a thick thatch of rich brown curls.
“Here is the new building.” He grinned. “Relatively speaking. The old part was built in the fourteenth century, the new part in the early 1600s. It is considerably more comfortable than the original structure ever was, although it does have its share of eccentricities.” He tugged at a bell rope. “Burnside! Burnside, where are you?”
Iantha winced at the sudden shout. His lordship’s vocal vigor, however, was rewarded by the prompt appearance of a wiry man of middle years.
“Aye, me lord?” The newcomer stopped abruptly at the sight of Iantha and looked questioningly at Lord Duncan.
“Miss Kethley was caught in the storm and will be staying with us. Please ask Thursby to go and make up a fire in the dowager’s bedchamber and fetch Miss Kethley some hot water.”
“Oh. Aye, me lord, right away. There be a fire in the library now if Miss Kethley would like to…”
“Ah, very good.” His lordship turned to Iantha. “May I help you with your coat?”
“Thank you.” Iantha allowed him to remove the garment, using the opportunity to step away from his supporting arm. As the hood came off, she braced herself. But surely he was too much the gentleman to comment on her silvery hair.
And, of course, he was.
After assisting Lord Duncan off with his greatcoat, Burnside departed as quickly as he had come, taking the wet wraps with him. His lordship opened the door to a comfortable room off the entryway. Books lined the walls, and more books and scrolls lay in piles and in crates. Some of them displayed covers of soft leather with exotic art, but a few had no covers at all.
“Forgive my disorder. I am in the process of integrating my own collection with my father’s library.” He set a chair near the fireplace and ushered her to it.
“I have found many interesting volumes in the East, some of them very old. I have been studying the various languages in order to read the texts.” He pulled up a chair for himself and sat, extending capable-looking hands to the fire.
Iantha clasped her own hands together in her lap and cleared her throat. “Lord Duncan, I feel I should say… Please forgive me if I have seemed ungrateful for your help. I found the situation very…very disturbing.”
His lordship raised one eyebrow. “Apparently.”
“I am appreciative. Truly I am.” She looked into his face—which displayed a hint of a wry smile and a twinkle in his coffee-brown eyes. A very good-natured response, indeed, to what she’d put him through. “What I would have done had you not arrived when you did, I don’t know. I had not realized that there was so much snow in the fells—and certainly not that another storm was brewing.”
He nodded. “A deceptively mild day. I succumbed to the temptation to get outside myself. Very unusual to have so much snow this early in the year.”
Iantha mustered a smile. “And I am very sorry to impose on you.”
“Not a bit in the world, Miss Kethley. My only concern is for your comfort. This is a very awkward situation for you. I regret that I do not even have a housekeeper, let alone a maid, to assist you at present. I returned somewhat earlier than my agent expected, and he has not yet assembled a permanent staff. Fortunately, he had already ordered a thorough cleaning, so at least you will not be choked with dust, and there is food aplenty stored in the cellars.” He turned as the door opened. “Yes, Burnside?”
“I thought the lady might be the better for a cup of tea.” Burnside edged through the door and awkwardly set a large tray with teapot and cups on a table.
“Very well thought of. Thank you.” Lord Duncan swiveled to face his henchman, grinning. “And what is offered for dinner? I’m expecting at least three courses.”
Burnside winked at a very startled Iantha. “Me lord is only funning. He knows that from me he gets plain fare—good hearty north country cooking with a few Indian tricks added in.” He bowed to his employer, heading to the door. “The fire is made upstairs, me lord, and hot water on the hob when Miss Kethley is ready.”
“Thank you. We will wait a bit until the room warms.” Burnside departed and his lordship turned back to Iantha. “Burnside’s cooking is plain, as he said, but quite good. At least you won’t starve.” His lordship eyed the tea tray askance. “Would you do me the favor of pouring, Miss Kethley? I’d very likely make a mull of it.”
What a strange establishment! Feeling a bit bewildered, Iantha picked up the pot. “I’d be happy to. Milk?”
“No, thank you.”
She passed him the cup and poured one for herself. As they were treating
