Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

“Miss Clark,” he said rather severely. He stood aside for a footman to pass him, the man’s arms full of treasures to amuse the children. “Mrs. Smith sent these down from the attic.”

Meredith was almost as excited to see what new entertainments had been found as she was by the man carrying them. “Kindly place them by the window.” Meredith followed, letting her eyes rove over the footman’s physique. Not as fine and large as Gray, but not running to fat either. As far as she was concerned, no one could be as well put together as her employer. But as far as views went, the sandy-haired footman was rather easy on the eye.

She shook herself from her daze. There was no use letting her imagination run away with itself over a pretty body. That part of her life was over. She leaned over the pile and found a ball-and-cup game to show Lady Willow. Meredith turned the ball over in her hand and let the cup dangle from the string. “I had one as a child.”

Cunningham’s voice cut through the distant memory. “That belonged to the countess when she was a girl. I should not like anything to damage it.”

“Games are for playing, Cunningham. But I am sure the ladies will cause no lasting harm.”

Cunningham’s face grew pinched and then he withdrew, leaving the footman standing beside her. “I’d play any game you wanted. Just say the word and I’d find you.”

Meredith blinked, realizing at the last second that, now Cunningham had gone, the footman was interested in her. She hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t detected any interest in her person from any servant since she’d arrived. Meredith eased back a touch and did her best to ignore his comment. Unfortunately, he followed, cutting her off from reaching Willow and Maisy where they played farther along the gallery.

“Let me pass,” she said firmly.

“Not yet.” His hand stretched toward her waist. Time slowed. Meredith dragged in a sharp breath and caught his hand before he made contact with her body. The fool smiled as she turned his hand so her thumb rested in his palm. When he tried to pull her into a tight embrace, she pressed her thumb hard into his hand. His nostrils flared as she increased the pressure. If he did not relent and move away, she would injure him.

“Release me now.” He had to be in pain from the pressure of her thumb.

Meredith smiled sweetly at him. “Yield, or I will break your hand.”

The fool had assumed that with Cunningham gone, she would not protest. She might miss intimacies with Gray, but Meredith was not a weak woman to give herself to just any man. Calista was the aberration.

He yanked his hand back immediately as he realized she made no idle boast and rubbed it. His glance told her he was furious. Meredith took a pace toward him. “Let me give you a piece of advice, sir. Gentlemen who force themselves on women, especially ones in service, are nothing better than rutting pigs. If you want one of your own, you’d better learn to listen, because if I ever hear of you forcing a woman against her will, I won’t speak to His Lordship about you. I’ll creep into your bedchamber one night and geld you. Do we understand each other?”

His face grew ashen. “Yes, Miss Clark.”

Meredith skirted around the oaf and took the ball and cup to Willow and showed her how to do it. While her back was turned, Cunningham swept into the room and berated the footman for lingering. Meredith turned to see the effect of the butler’s admonishments, but that was exactly when Willow made a wild swing and the ball connected soundly with Meredith’s head.

Dazed, she fell, crashing to the ground in a sprawled heap, her head hurting like the very devil. Her eyeglasses spun away as she clutched her head, and the sharp crack of glass breaking told her they were ruined.

Cunningham ran the length of the room and knelt at her side. “Heaven help us.”

She pressed her hand against the injury, hoping touch would ease the pain. As she did, she grew aware that Willow had begun to cry. Meredith stretched for the child, caught her hand and drew her close. “No harm done, my lady. No need for tears. I’ll be all better in a moment.”

But Willow was not calmed by her words. She wrenched free of her grip and bolted for the door. “Willow,” she called. Although she called out as loud as she could stand, the girl did not return. Maisy came closer, crouched down at her feet, watching with no idea of what had happened. Meredith was relieved she was not the least bit upset. She wasn’t up to cheering anyone just yet.

Cunningham caught her elbow and eased her to her feet carefully. “Are you truly unhurt?”

The room spun slowly and she grabbed Cunningham’s arms desperately to keep her balance. “Oh, dear. I see a bump the size of an apple in my future. Please, can you find Willow and make sure she understands she didn’t really hurt me? I don’t want her to be anxious. She’s come so far these past few weeks.”

He improved his grip about her body. “I’ll take you to her instead.”

With Cunningham’s help, Meredith struggled to the doorway and into the hall. She glanced up the stairs and winced as her head throbbed. Footsteps pounded in her direction and she was caught by stronger arms than Cunningham’s. Warmth, security. Gray. Meredith clung to him.

“Willow said you’d been injured,” he whispered.

She winced at the worry on his face. “It’s not serious. An accident. Where is she?”

“I didn’t mean to,” the little girl sobbed. “And I broke her glasses, too.”

Meredith reached blindly for the girl, relieved when her cold clammy hand clenched hers. “I must remember to pay more attention. I’ll be fine, really. The glasses can easily be replaced. I just need to sit for a few moments.”

“You’ll rest for the remainder of the day,” Gray corrected. He swept her up into his arms and began to move. “Cunningham, fetch the housekeeper at once. This bump will need a poultice.”

“Don’t. It’s nothing really,” Meredith protested feebly.

“Sweetheart, there is a large bump forming on your head. Mrs. Smith will know how to deal with it, I assure you.”