Hiding Rose (Saved By Desire 5)

“Oh, no,” Rose moaned as she dismounted from her horse at the farmhouse and stepped straight into a puddle of something that was brown and stank to high heaven. She lifted her dripping boot up and felt her stomach heave at the smell that assaulted her nostrils. Carefully stepping out of the way, she gasped when her foot then landed on something soft and squidgy and immediately slipped out from beneath her.

“Oh, Lord,” she murmured when her bottom hit the ground.

Barnaby laughed at the disgust on her face. She had indeed land in the doo-doo, and wasn’t best pleased about it if the look of horror on her face was anything to go by.

“It’s not funny,” she snapped as she tried to regain her footing only to find herself unable to gain any purchase in the thick mire now soaking through her clothes.

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Barnaby winkled his nose in disgust as the stench filtered through the air but made no move to help her.

“Get on all fours and crawl to drier ground,” he suggested.

Rose glared at him. “If you were any kind of gentleman you would offer me a helping hand.”

“Not when you smell like that I won’t,” he snorted. With a grin he left her to get herself free and went in search of a trough. Minutes later he deposited a bucket of ice cold water beside her.

Rose glared at him balefully, her fury burning brightly at the sight of the smirk on his face. She had thought her humiliation was complete after what had happened in the hut. Now she knew it definitely was.

Drat the man she thought angrily. It irked her that she was now a sodden, stinky mess whereas he was cool, clean, and just as handsome as ever. In fact he looked heart-breakingly gorgeous, if a little piratical shielded by the darkness as he was.

“Come on,” he suggested with a nod toward the barn. “Now that you are er – wet - you need to get into the barn so you can tidy up.”

In spite of the fact she smelled like a manure pile, Rose tipped her chin up and stalked regally into the darkness of the huge building. Barnaby helpfully carried the water and deposited it on the floor next to her.

“Help yourself. I will go and see what I can find for you to change into,” he offered before he vanished without a backward look.

Rose squinted at him and cursed the darkness that rendered her unable to see if he was laughing at her. She thought she had heard a snigger or two there but couldn’t be sure. Rather than deign to answer, she waited for a minute or two and then began to peel her clothing off. The cold material clung to her skin, but it wasn’t as frigid as the water she washed herself with. Her teeth were chattering by the time she had finished removing the gloop and the stench had subsided. She then realised she had yet another problem - there was nothing for her to change into. Clutching an old sack that had been draped over a stable door to her chest, she crept to the doorway.

“Barnaby?” she whispered. She waited but heard nothing. “Barnaby?”

Still, nothing.

“Oaf,” she muttered.

“I heard that,” he growled suddenly into her ear.

Rose squealed and spun around. “Don’t scare me like that,” she snapped giving him a heavy whack on the shoulder.

Barnaby grinned. “Missed me?”

“No,” she replied pertly. “What am I supposed to wear now?”

Barnaby lifted his hand and shook some new clothing at her.

“Where did you get those from?” she gasped.

“The farmer. I have left him suitable compensation for his loss,” he explained, aware that she was likely to refuse to wear anything that had been stolen.

Rose accepted the white shirt off him and turned her back while she tugged it over her head. The warmth it brought her was wonderful, and she hastily tied the laces at the front to gain as much protection from the chill as possible. When she turned around though, she glared at the second garment Barnaby held out to her behind his back.

“I am not going to wear those,” she declared in horror as she stared at the tiny breeches he held. She glanced down at the trousers she had been wearing. They were warm and had suited her purposes perfectly but she could smell them even from several feet away. There was no earthly possibility she could wear them now but then she couldn’t wear the breeches either.

Barnaby coughed and fought a grin. “It seems that the farmer is not very big. This is the smallest pair they have. It is either these or you can borrow one of the dresses on the washing line but I warn you now they are meant for a more buxom woman.” He held out a dress that would have dwarfed even Barnaby.

Rose had never wanted to smack someone so much in her entire life. She suspected he was enjoying this a little too much and desperately wanted to wipe that mirth off his face. If it wasn’t bad enough that he had dragged her around the countryside to be rained on in the freezing winds, he now wanted her to dress in breeches of all things. At least the full trousers had covered the length of her legs.

“I have never heard anything so preposterous in my life,” she declared flatly. “Is there nothing else?”