The Wild Baron (Baron 1) - Page 11

Rohan saw more evidence of fisticuffs than his sister did. Toby’s knuckles were bloody, the knee of one pants leg was ripped, a bruise was coming into its colors on his cheek. He cleared his throat. “Did you win?” he asked.

The boy beamed. “Yes, sir. I knocked him right off his pins, lifted him clean in the air, and tossed him over a log. Of course, he got in a couple of wallops, but I held him down and stuffed leaves in his mouth. I think he swallowed one with a caterpillar on it.”

It was an image that brought back a score of memories. Rohan smiled, unable not to. Then he laughed, something of a rusty sound since he was a reprobate of some repute and no reprobate of any distinction at all laughed all that much

.

As for Susannah, she froze tighter than a spigot in January. Slowly, ever so slowly, she said, “Toby, this is Lord Mountvale. He is Marianne’s uncle and just come for a brief visit. Say your hellos and good-byes, for he is on his way now.”

“Hello, sir,” Toby said, and bowed. There was a deep, loud, rending sound. The boy gasped, backed away, and then turned and ran.

“Oh, dear,” Susannah said, “It would seem he ripped his pants. Please go now, sir. I must see to my brother.”

“No,” Rohan said. “Let me do it.”

“He’s hiding in the far eastern end of the stable, my lord,” Jamie called out, and Gulliver neighed.

She grabbed his sleeve. “But you’re a stranger and I’m his sister. It’s up to me to take care of him, it’s—”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t until Rohan was standing in the doorway of the dim stable that he wondered what he was doing. He didn’t know this boy. What did he care that the little nit was embarrassed because he’d ripped his britches?

He heard himself call out, “Toby? Don’t run, it’s just me, Rohan, er, Lord Mountvale.”

He heard the movement of hay and walked to the end of the stable. The boy was crouched down against the wall, trying to press himself through the wood, really, his face in his hands.

Rohan said, “My horse is skittish. I don’t like to leave him waiting. It oversets his nerves. If Jamie runs out of limericks to sing to him, I have no idea what will happen. He could even bolt. And then I would have to walk to the nearest town and likely get very testy in the process.”

Toby nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at the gentleman, who was, in truth, the most handsome, polished-looking gentleman he’d ever seen in his life. The gentleman looked somehow familiar, but how could that be possible?

Toby wanted to sink through the hay and bury himself at the bottom, but he scrambled to his feet.

Rohan said, “Are you bare-assed or is it just a little tear?”

“I’m bare-assed, sir. Leastways, my right part is.”

“You’re lucky I’m here and wearing a coat.” He shrugged out of his riding jacket and handed it to the boy. “Once when I was bare-assed on both parts, I had to walk all the way home and through my parents’ house before I could cover myself. That amounted to three maiden aunts, countless maids, and my mother’s abigail, who screamed her head off at the sight. As I recall, my older sister trailed me up the stairs, giggling all the way and pointing. I wanted to pound her, but she was too much bigger than I was.”

“How old were you, sir?”

“About eight or nine.”

“I’m eight. My sister’s older than I am too.”

“Ah, just the right age, then. Turn around. Yes, the coat covers all shortages. I don’t think your sister would giggle at you.”

“No, she’d carry on like a mother. She’d twitter and moan and try to hug me until she’d cracked my ribs. She’d look at my knuckles and moan some more and sigh deeply. She’d try to act brave that I was brawling and got hurt, only I’m not really hurt at all, just a little bit.”

“Yes, you’re right. Just like a mother. Perhaps giggles would be better. I daresay that since you’re wearing my coat, she won’t be hot off the mark to hug you for fear of wrinkling my clothes.”

The boy walked next to him out of the stable. “You’re really Marianne’s uncle?”

“Yes. I’m taking you, Marianne, and your sister back to Mountvale House. That’s my home in Sussex. It’s close to the English Channel. Do you like to fish?”

The boy’s eyes shone. “Fish? And swim? Maybe I could learn how to sail?”

“Yes, all those things.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Baron Romance
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