Gavin. I was on my way to the small salon. They might have gone there. I expect they have much news to catch up on.’
‘Indeed,’ Clayton drawled, amusement far back in his slate-grey eyes. ‘But I doubt you’ll find them in there yet.’ He paused as though mentally phrasing his next words. ‘I believe Gavin went to his chamber to freshen up after the journey. Sarah accompanied him.’
‘Oh…I see,’ Ruth said and averted her face to hide her blushing confusion. She felt quite silly for not having guessed that the two lovebirds would find an opportunity to have some time alone on being safely reunited.
While Ruth composed herself by fussing over the baby, Clayton began to subtly study her with a very male eye. He’d been attracted to her when they had briefly met in Willowdene town despite the fact she had been garbed head to toe in mourning clothes. She’d been capably driving a little pony and trap through the High Street and, from their short conversation that day, he’d learned that she wore weeds because her father had recently died. He’d also learned that she was related by marriage to one of his commanding officers, Colonel Hayden. It was a while later that he’d learned from Gavin that Ruth Hayden had been a widow for many years.
Clayton’s roving appraisal continued and he knew he’d been right in instinctively sensing that beneath the dreary bombazine that had been shrouding her body on that occasion, and the dark bonnet brim that had made sallow her complexion, was a woman of rare beauty.
On first glance Ruth Hayden’s features might appear rather severe, yet on finer appraisal were undoubtedly exquisite. Her deep brown eyes were fringed by lengthy black lashes and topped by delicate brows that looked soft as sable. Her nose was thin, her mouth asymmetrical with a lower lip that was fuller than the curving cupid’s bow on top. She was petite, her smooth peachy cheek barely reached his shoulder, and fragile wrist bones were in his line of vision as she cuddled James close to her. But her figure was generously curvaceous in all the right places. The weight of the baby pressing on her chest had accentuated a satiny ivory cleavage swelling above her bodice. His hooded eyes lingered a moment too long on silver silk straining enticingly across her bosom.
Feeling once more adequately self-possessed, Ruth looked up and immediately her cheeks regained a vivid bloom as she noticed Sir Clayton eyeing her breasts. On the previous occasion when they had conversed she had sensed he found her interesting, and not just because he’d discovered he was acquainted with her in-laws. At the time she’d dismissed the idea he was attracted to her as fanciful and scoffed at her conceit. Yet there was no denying that she’d just caught him regarding her lustfully. Knowing that he found her desirable caused a peculiar mixture of uneasiness and excitement to tumble her insides.
It might have been many years since she had lain with her husband, or even been kissed, but she could recognise the signs that a man wanted her. She had seen the same smouldering intensity at the back of Ian Bryant’s eyes just a couple of days ago when he proposed to her. She had known for a year or more that Ian wanted to bed her. But the doctor didn’t possess skill enough to neutralise a tense situation, or his passion, as it seemed this man could.
Sir Clayton didn’t look in the least disconcerted at being caught out. He raised a long finger, stroked the baby’s soft cheek and lightly remarked, ‘There’s a young maid hovering at the end of the corridor.’ He gave Ruth a nonchalant smile. ‘Perhaps she has come to see to James.’
Ruth slowly expelled her pent-up breath. She pivoted about, grateful for the distraction, and gave young Rosie a beseeching look. At the signal the nursemaid immediately hastened to them and dipped a curtsy.
‘Beggin’your pardon, ma’am…sir…’ she began in her lilting Irish way, ‘but the mistress did tell me to come to settle the little lad down sooner. When I said to her that I’d found you was asleep and so was little James, she said to leave it for a while and not to disturb you at all.’
Ruth gave the nervous girl a smile. She could tell that Rosie was in awe of the handsome gentleman by the way she kept sliding glances at Sir Clayton, then blushing and shuffling on the spot.
Ruth handed over her precious burden. ‘I think he might need some urgent attention,’ she told the girl and gently patted at the baby’s bottom.
Rosie took the baby carefully and with natural fondness immediately smoothed the fair down on his head. ‘Come on then, me little lad,’ she crooned against his warm cheek. ‘Let’s get you seen to.’
Once the maid had disappeared with her charge, and Ruth and Clayton were left alone at the top of the stairs, they both attempted to immediately breach the quiet with conversation.
‘I thought we had left this behind us…’
‘Are you staying long in Willowdene…?’
They had spoken simultaneously and fell silent at the same time too.
‘Please do finish what you were saying, sir,’ Ruth blurted.
‘It was nothing important, just a remark about the unseasonal weather. I thought we had left the snow behind us in the winter months. Only last week we were enjoying fine spring sunshine in town.’
‘Indeed, it was glorious in the countryside too,’ Ruth responded quickly. The weather was always an easy topic to discuss and she eagerly picked up the thread he’d dangled. ‘But it is not so unusual to have snow at this time of the year,’ Ruth spun out the dialogue. ‘I recall my mother telling me that it was snowing in March in the year of my birth. The doctor had quite a journey through the blizzard and was almost late for my arrival.’
‘So…you’ve had a birthday recently, Mrs Hayden,’ Clayton observed with a smile.
‘No…not yet…it is my birthday next week,’ Ruth admitted, suddenly wishing she had kept that particular anecdote private. Into the expectant pause she said with a hint of defensiveness, ‘I shall be nine and twenty on the twenty-fifth of March.’
‘Will you indeed?’ Clayton said, gently amused, but genuinely surprised. She certainly did not appear to be so close to thirty. ‘You’re still a youngster, then,’ he added charmingly. ‘In November of this year I shall turn thirty-five.’
A small smile from Ruth rewarded him for his gallantry. ‘Then you must be either born under the sign of Scorpio or Sagittarius,’ she remarked, gladly turning the focus on to him.
‘Very possibly,’ he admitted on a chuckle, ‘but I have little interest in stargazing or what it all means.’
‘I find the study of the heavens quite pleasing,’ Ruth said.
‘Whereas I prefer to concentrate on earthly pleasures.’
Ruth felt herself blush, but shot back rather acidly, ‘Sagittarians are often hedonistic. I would hazard a guess that your birthday falls at the end of the month of November.’
He gave her a smile, but no further information. Instead he said easily, ‘I interrupted you earlier. I believe you were enquiring how long I intended to stay in Willowdene.’
‘I…yes…I did…’ Ruth admitted, while hoping he did not think she cared if he was soon to leave.
‘You asked from courtesy rather than curiosity, I take it,’ Clayton remarked.
The note of mockery in his voice made Ruth bristle and tilt her chin. ‘Indeed, and I expect we might need to find some more polite topics
