Free Snowbound With the Notorious Rake by Sarah Mallory Page A

with you, as long as he is home before dark.’ Sam’s mouth opened to argue and she lifted her finger. ‘Before dark, Sam. Promise me.’
    With an audible sigh he nodded. The next moment the boys had disappeared and she heard them whooping and laughing as they ran down the steps and off through the village. She stood for a moment, enjoying the silence. She never worried when the two boys were together. Jem was a little older than Sam and built on sturdier lines. He had always protected Sam from the older boys in the village, who tended to bully him, and since Jem had lost his father the boys had become even closer, united in their common plight.
    The little schoolroom was situated above the north porch of the parish church, and when Rose was alone the peace of the building settled around her like an old but comfortable cloak. However, it was not enough to keep out the cold and she shivered. With winter approaching it would soon be time to bring out the old brazier to heat the schoolroom. She must remember to speak to the churchwarden about it.
    Rose locked the schoolroom door and descended the stone steps built at the side of the porch. She walked slowly through the graveyard, but at the gate she stopped. She should go home, Mama would be expecting her, but to her left the track wound upwards through the ancient woods and on to the moor. Surely there was time for a short walk? A carriage rattled along the highstreet, distracting her. She quickly turned back, but it was only Farmer Ansell’s son in his new gig.
    Who else should it be ? Rose asked herself. Restlessly she set off up the hill into the woods. She declined to answer her own question. It was nearly ten months since she had seen Sir Lawrence Daunton, but there was not a day that she had not thought of him, nor a morning that she did not wake up and wonder if today he might travel to Mersecombe to find her.
    Her short sojourn at Knightscote haunted her dreams. It did no good to tell herself that it was for the best. Upon her return to Mersecombe she had given her family and friends to understand that she had been stranded at some remote farmhouse. It had taken all her tact and skill to persuade Evans to corroborate her tale and for some time she had been torn between hope and dread that Sir Lawrence might turn up and give the lie to her story. When the snows had cleared two weeks later and Evans reassured her that he had made enquiries and learned that Knightscote was now empty once more, she was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. She tried to be glad there was now no possibility of meeting up with Sir Lawrence again, but sometimes, when the children were being particularly troublesome or she was yawning behind her fan at some tedious party, she longed for him to arrive and carry her off.
    ‘Romantic nonsense!’
    She uttered the words aloud as she strode along, her skirts dragging on the long grass. Sir Lawrence was not some fairy-tale prince who would carry her off to live happily ever after. He was a rake. A libertine. Hemight well run off with her; he might even make her forget the world for a short while, but then there would be nights of uncertainty when he did not come home, tears and recriminations and the certain knowledge that she would have to share him with every other female who caught his eye.
    ‘Never!’
    She stopped. She had reached the edge of the wood and she could see the moors ahead of her, the bracken glowing reddish-orange in the sunlight. She dared not go further. The sun was already low in the sky and her mother would be worried, just as she worried about little Sam.
    Rose turned back.
     
    By the time she reached the church again the sun had gone down and the air was filled with a faint haze and the scent of wood smoke. She saw a figure at the church gate, a stocky, thickset man in a brown riding jacket and tall hat. He was standing at the entrance to the churchyard, feet spread, hands behind him, as if waiting for