Love With the Perfect Scoundrel by Sophia Nash

half mile away would give way to the wheels of the sturdier coaches. And soon, Michael would have to make an effort to find that idiotic Mr. Brown to allow Grace Sheffey to go back to a life among her own kind. And he would continue on this new, promising land before him. Just looking at the vast fields made him eager for the planting season. It had taken him more than a decade to clear three acres of wilderness along the Potomac, and here there was not one damned, stubborn stump to contend with. There were only people to worry about. Curious, gossiping people. He was glad this trifling corner of the world was tucked into a mostly forgotten piece of England.
    As it was, he suspected it was going to be more than a little difficult to watch her leave with some pampered dandy. He glanced at the azure sky above, a lone cloud meandering across the expanse. Yes, it was but a day or so before she would be gone. He urged Sioux to cross over an icy stream.
    A day. And one night. One time to construct a few unforgettable moments to last him through many winters to come. But there was nothing to be done about it and he knew very well how to accept truth. Thank God she did too.
    And then he saw him. There in the distance, on the top of a small hill, the missing dark bay horse stood looking down at him. Michael loosened the makeshift halter looped over his saddle and was about to dismount when his mare nickered. After a brief pause, the gelding dropped his head and came toward them.
    Michael knew how the bay felt. It was just too bad he couldn’t follow his own instincts.
    An hour later, the yearling on a lead behind Sioux, Michael negotiated his way through the last of the melting drifts in front of the barn. As he dismounted, a late-afternoon wind rushed through the withered brown leaves still stubbornly clinging to the branches of an oak tree next to him, and he saw himself in nature. He refused to give up his grasp on the old until new life budded. It would be a long time before he felt safe here—if ever. Perhaps it would have been better to remain in Virginia instead of dodging all his true countrymen here.
    He clucked to the animals and with purposeful loose strides headed for the warmth within. The peaceful sounds of animals well fed greeted him. A cow lowed in the milking stall, its tail twitching as Timmy’s happy face glanced toward him.
    “There ye be, sir. And you got him, too.” The boy grinned. “Me Pa says he’s a rare one, that one is. Won’t be easy to break to saddle. Got the taste of the wild in him, he does.”
    Michael chuckled while he led the animal to a newly turned out stall. “Sometimes it’s not wise to take it all out of them, Timmy. You lose their heart that way. Then what use is the animal to you?”
    Timmy stopped milking. “Never thought of it that way, Mr. Ranier. I’d be much obliged if I might watch when he’s backed for the first time.”
    “Of course. Now what’s left here? How’s that lamb faring?”
    “Well, sir, funny thing that.” Timmy placed the half-filled bucket of milk beside him and stood up. “Mrs. Sheffey came out ’ere a few hours ago and asked for a tour o’ the barn. Doona think she much liked the manure pile out back, but then she spied that lamb, and, well…”
    “Yes?”
    “Sir, there weren’t anything I could do to persuade her to leave it be when she learnt the ewe hadn’t survived.”
    “Where is she?”
    “In the kitchen. But, she keeps coming back every hour begging more milk. I’m trying to keep up with her, sir. But she wouldna listen when I told her I doubted a lamb would do well on cow’s milk.”
    Michael suppressed a smile.
    “She’s not from about here, is she, sir?”
    “No.”
    “She sure is pretty.”
    Michael laughed.
    “If’n you’ll pardon me for sayin’, I think she’s taken a fancy to ye, sir.”
    He stilled, then swung his head toward the boy. “And why would you get such an idea in your head?”
    “Well, she keeps asking