Page 47 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

His grandfather had instructed Martin to take copious notes as Riordan spoke, and by the time he’d concluded it was well past the hour for departure. His farewell with his father was cool but civil. Julian’s harsh words were a heavy weight on Riordan’s mind. But he was determined to follow his own path, and hopefully his father would come around to his way of thinking. The men all agreed, finding Aidan was a top priority, and Garrett volunteered to begin the search in earnest by hiring an ex-copper friend of his.

A shiver traveled down Riordan’s spine. From the rain shower he’d been caught in? Perhaps. He had sought temporary shelter at an inn, but his clothes were still damp. No, the shiver had more to do with Aidan. They shared a bond, but it wasn’t as if they shared emotions and pains, like the fictional characters in The Corsican Brothers by Alexandre Dumas. Yet Riordan could not deny that there were instances when he sensed something was not right with Aidan. He sensed it now.

Truthfully, he should be assisting Garrett in finding his brother. But other responsibilities pulled him in a conflicting direction. With the colder weather growing ever closer, he doubted he would be given any further personal time for trips to Wollstonecraft Hall and beyond. He had implored Garrett to keep him apprised of any developments.

Farmer Walsh raised a hand to greet him. Riordan pulled up on the reins, then slid off his horse. Patting the gelding’s neck, he said, “Grayson has had quite a workout. I hastened his pace part of the way. He’s lathered, weary, and, I imagine, hungry.”

Farmer Walsh took the reins. “I will see him well looked after, sir. A rubdown, your special mix of oats, and plenty of water. Will you stay for a mug of tea?”

Riordan released the strap that held his small valise on Grayson. “It is tempting, but I should head for home and—”

The sharp, piercing cry of an animal came from the nearby barn. A desperate howling. “What is that?”

“Oh, Charlie chose a kitten from the barn cat’s litter weeks ago. Brought it in the house and trained it, but the wife has taken to sneezing and the like, so the animal has been banished to the barn.” Farmer Walsh scratched his whiskery chin. “Got to find a new home for it; it’s useless as a barn cat. Won’t survive.”

Kitten. The lonely mewing cut straight to his heart as he recalled Sabrina sadly relaying the fact that she’d not been allowed to have a pet. Should he? It was an impulsive thing to do. “How much for the kitten? I believe my bride would welcome a pet.”

“Nay, sir. No charge at all. You pay me far above what is expected for boarding a horse, and Charlie thinks the world of you. Never seen him so keen to go to school. Unlike most of my neighbors, I believe an education is important. Wish I had one.” The farmer chuckled. “Though I don’t see how this type of learning benefits a farmer.”

“There is a saying in Latin, ‘ars gratia artis,’ which means ‘art for art’s sake.’ Learning for learning’s sake. Are you interested in having your son become something beyond a farmer, as wonderful as that is? Perhaps a doctor or a solicitor?”

“Aye. I want my son to have more opportunities.”

“Only with learning and knowledge can this happen. Instilling a sense of wonder and awe.” Riordan smiled.

“Aye. Awe. I’m learning too, as Charlie tells us all you’ve taught him every night at supper.”

Riordan was humbled by the words. To be given proof that his way of teaching was having an impact on his students’ lives—and their parents’—was more than he could ask for. “Thank you, Farmer Walsh. Then it’s all worthwhile, isn’t it?”

“That it is, sir. Come into the barn with me while I see to Grayson. You can meet the kitten. Charlie called her Mittens, but I imagine your missus can call it whatever she wants.”

Riordan placed his luggage on the ground and followed Farmer Walsh in. The warmth from the barn drove off the chill from his bones, and the familiar odors of hay, horse, and leather reminded him of home. “Are you sure Charlie will not mind parting with his pet?”

“He said he’d prefer she has a good home, and he’ll be thrilled you took the kitten in rather than anyone else.” He pointed to the far corner. “She’s there. Once I put Grayson in his stall, I’ll see if the wife has a closed hamper you can borrow. In fact, I’ll see you home on the wagon, sir. You’ll need the basket the kitten slept in, the container she does her business in, the sand….”

Riordan laughed. “I will accept the ride gladly.”

He walked to the small pen. Huddling and shivering in a pile of hay was a white kitten with patches of orange across its small body. She looked up at him, her green eyes full of misery. Leaning down, he gathered the frightened kitten in his arms, expecting a hiss and a scratch for his efforts. Instead, Mittens burrowed close to his chest and mewed softly. Already he was taken with the small feline; he hoped Sabrina would be as well.

By the time they left the Walsh farm darkness had blanketed the sky, the moon and stars their only guide. Mrs. Walsh gifted Riordan with a fresh loaf of bread and a raisin pie. The kitten had mercifully stopped yowling. As they pulled up to the cottage, the door swung open and Sabrina stood on the threshold. Farmer Walsh elbowed him. “Your young bride is happy to see you, sir.” The farmer gave him a wink.

Was she? As usual, her expression was shuttered, though the light from the parlor illuminated her enough that he was able to see a small smile curved about her lovely lips. God. His heart leapt at the sight of her. He was tempted to jump down from the wagon and run to her, pull her into his arms, kiss her with every scorching sensation tearing through him. Tamping down his arousal, he slid from the bench seat and assisted Farmer Walsh in unloading the wagon. Holding out the pie as an offering, he approached Sabrina and kissed her on the cheek. “From Mrs. Walsh.”

“How kind,” she murmured. More loudly she said, “Farmer Walsh, do thank your wife. Kind of both of you.”

The farmer touched his forelock and carried the items into the cottage. After saying their goodbyes, Sabrina and Riordan were left alone in the parlor. Riordan reached for the covered basket and held it out toward her. “For you. I thought you would like a little company during the afternoons.”

Her brows furrowed as she took the hamper and lifted the lid. A loud meow emitted from it. She gasped, then dropped the lid. Thrusting it in his hands, she turned and fled.

Damn it all. What had happened? Then it struck him. She was overwhelmed. He placed the basket on the floor. “Stay. We will be returning.” Pulling off his coat and muffler, he tossed them onto the chaise longue and headed to the bedroom. The door was closed—he tried the handle—but not locked. Turning it, he entered the room and found Sabrina with her back to him, staring at the flames dancing in the small fireplace.

He walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s all right to feel, Sabrina. To show emotion.” He nuzzled her neck, and to his genuine pleasure, she did not shrink away from him.

“No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift before,” she whispered. “Not ever.”

Riordan turned her to face him and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers in order for their gazes to meet. Tears streamed down her cheeks and his heart clenched in response. Cupping her face, he soothingly brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I can convey, based on personal experience, that there is nothing lovelier than reading by the fire with a pet cuddled up next to you. I believe you and Mittens will become fast friends.”

“Mittens?”