he had spread out on the one corner of the lawn that wasn’t waist-high. He had trampled the weeds into submission as he’d cut several sections of logs into kindling earlier this morn.
He looked at the sun. “Most likely around midday,” Jules replied, then frowned at the rest of the lawn. Perhaps it was time to tame the estate. Working outside had helped to clear his head, at least until Joseph had arrived with the news of Grayson’s demise.
“When will the others return? Did they say?” Claire asked, sitting down on the blanket beside him, gazing off toward the village.
“Around four, I imagine. Do you miss them so much?”
Claire gave him a winsome smile. “No, but I am eager to move forward with the cleaning. And unless we are going to eat fish and cheese for days on end, we have no more supplies.”
He looked at her with amusement. “I am very fond of fish.”
“And I am very fond of cheese,” she said with a chuckle.
“Then we shall be fine.” Jules set a plate down, positioned the bread and cheese upon it, then turned the plate so the cheese was closer to her. “I suspect they are having a difficult time finding women who are eager to come up here to clean, no matter what Nicholas offers to pay.”
Claire sliced off a corner of the cheese and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Why is that?”
“They fear my reputation.” He tore off a piece of bread. “The rogue of Kildare is what they call me in the village.”
“Do they really?” She paused in ripping off a piece of bread. There was no fear in her eyes, but she remained so still.
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Does that give you pause about the man you have attached yourself to?”
“No.”
There was no hesitation in her answer, and that surprised him. He searched her face, contemplating her response. “The only person who can verify your claim of a proxy wedding is now dead,” he said.
An indescribable look of pain flashed across her face. “I hope that as Grayson met with such an unfortunate end, he did not suffer.”
Jules ripped another section off the bread, stifling his sudden urge to reach for her hand and comfort her.
She set down the reminder of the cheese. “As for proof of our marriage, it would have been recorded in the parish records if the documents Grayson had me sign are no longer accessible.”
The words brought his gaze back to hers. “I will need to go to Edinburgh to confirm that myself.”
She said nothing, simply nodded in response, but that odd sadness lingered in her gaze.
This time, he could not hold back his need to comfort her. He touched her hand.
She did not pull away. A soft smile came to her lips. “I do not blame you for being angry with me. I went into this marriage fully knowing what to expect. You were not prepared for me, I realize that now.”
His eyes locked onto hers, glittering yet warm and so filled with hope and vitality that he could not look away, even though he wanted to—Lord, how he wanted to. But her gaze wouldn’t release him, and he had no choice but to stare. “No, I was not prepared for you.”
“Why did you fabricate a wife?” she asked.
“Who told you that?”
“Grayson.”
He made a small sound, a rush of breath, an aborted laugh at her bluntness. And yet it also felt good to talk openly about what he had done without the others around. Neither of them had to pretend. “I wanted to be left alone.”
A frown pulled down the corners of her mouth, but did nothing to mar her features. Instead, it once again made him want to lift his hand to her cheek and stroke away the concern he saw there. “I would think after your situation , you would want exactly the opposite.”
“Are you referring to my time in gaol?” he asked, thinly.
She nodded. “It could not have been easy.”
He pulled his gaze away from the pity in her golden eyes. “It was hell on earth, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” He didn’t want anyone to look
He looked at the sun. “Most likely around midday,” Jules replied, then frowned at the rest of the lawn. Perhaps it was time to tame the estate. Working outside had helped to clear his head, at least until Joseph had arrived with the news of Grayson’s demise.
“When will the others return? Did they say?” Claire asked, sitting down on the blanket beside him, gazing off toward the village.
“Around four, I imagine. Do you miss them so much?”
Claire gave him a winsome smile. “No, but I am eager to move forward with the cleaning. And unless we are going to eat fish and cheese for days on end, we have no more supplies.”
He looked at her with amusement. “I am very fond of fish.”
“And I am very fond of cheese,” she said with a chuckle.
“Then we shall be fine.” Jules set a plate down, positioned the bread and cheese upon it, then turned the plate so the cheese was closer to her. “I suspect they are having a difficult time finding women who are eager to come up here to clean, no matter what Nicholas offers to pay.”
Claire sliced off a corner of the cheese and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Why is that?”
“They fear my reputation.” He tore off a piece of bread. “The rogue of Kildare is what they call me in the village.”
“Do they really?” She paused in ripping off a piece of bread. There was no fear in her eyes, but she remained so still.
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Does that give you pause about the man you have attached yourself to?”
“No.”
There was no hesitation in her answer, and that surprised him. He searched her face, contemplating her response. “The only person who can verify your claim of a proxy wedding is now dead,” he said.
An indescribable look of pain flashed across her face. “I hope that as Grayson met with such an unfortunate end, he did not suffer.”
Jules ripped another section off the bread, stifling his sudden urge to reach for her hand and comfort her.
She set down the reminder of the cheese. “As for proof of our marriage, it would have been recorded in the parish records if the documents Grayson had me sign are no longer accessible.”
The words brought his gaze back to hers. “I will need to go to Edinburgh to confirm that myself.”
She said nothing, simply nodded in response, but that odd sadness lingered in her gaze.
This time, he could not hold back his need to comfort her. He touched her hand.
She did not pull away. A soft smile came to her lips. “I do not blame you for being angry with me. I went into this marriage fully knowing what to expect. You were not prepared for me, I realize that now.”
His eyes locked onto hers, glittering yet warm and so filled with hope and vitality that he could not look away, even though he wanted to—Lord, how he wanted to. But her gaze wouldn’t release him, and he had no choice but to stare. “No, I was not prepared for you.”
“Why did you fabricate a wife?” she asked.
“Who told you that?”
“Grayson.”
He made a small sound, a rush of breath, an aborted laugh at her bluntness. And yet it also felt good to talk openly about what he had done without the others around. Neither of them had to pretend. “I wanted to be left alone.”
A frown pulled down the corners of her mouth, but did nothing to mar her features. Instead, it once again made him want to lift his hand to her cheek and stroke away the concern he saw there. “I would think after your situation , you would want exactly the opposite.”
“Are you referring to my time in gaol?” he asked, thinly.
She nodded. “It could not have been easy.”
He pulled his gaze away from the pity in her golden eyes. “It was hell on earth, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” He didn’t want anyone to look
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