Free The Tempting of Thomas Carrick by Stephanie Laurens Page A

they’re ready to get on their feet, they should have more of the latter.” She started toward the kitchen. “They can sip that throughout the day as needed. I’ll make up a bigger batch to leave with them. By evening, I’ll be surprised if they aren’t all feeling a great deal better, although full recovery will take another day or so.” Pausing in the kitchen doorway, she glanced back. “The most important thing is to ensure they have no more of that tainted water.”
    He nodded; when she continued into the kitchen, he ambled after her and set the lamp on the table. “The Forresters are near enough to supply them. Forrester’s already offered. I’ll arrange for the well to be tested, but that will take months.”
    “The effect might pass. They can use the cats to check if the water’s still bad.” She paused, then said, “That reminds me.”
    Leaving the tray on the table, she picked up the lamp, walked to the kitchen door, opened it, and went out. Curious, Thomas followed as far as the door. He propped one shoulder against the frame and watched as she went to the well, bent and picked up a bowl, then returned to the water barrels and filled the bowl from one.
    She glanced at him. “As the barn cats were so instrumental in sounding the alarm, so to speak, the least we can do is see to them, too.”
    He didn’t argue, just watched as she returned to the well, set down the bowl, then straightened and called, “Kit, kit, kit.”
    One after another, the cats came out to investigate. Soon, the bowl was surrounded by furry heads, all lapping furiously.
    When the cats were replete and sat back to groom their whiskers, Lucilla brought the bowl back to refill it. Still lounging, he asked, “Artemis and Apollo—are they still about?” By which he meant still alive; the pair would be just over ten years old, which was a very good age for a deerhound.
    She nodded. “For years, they went everywhere with us, Marcus and me—at least, wherever we allowed. They used to come to the grove with us without fail, but now their legs aren’t up to the journey.” Her lips gently curved. “They usually laze about the manor in the best spot of sunshine they can find. Or if not that, they stretch before the fireplace that has the best fire—they move from hearthrug to hearthrug, depending on the state of the blazes.”
    He humphed. He watched her take the refilled bowl back to the well. He remained where he was as she returned. When she halted before the door and arched an imperious brow at him, he met her gaze and simply said, “Thank you for coming and helping the Bradshaws.”
    She shrugged lightly and waved him back.
    Slowly straightening, he stepped back, and she stepped past—almost touching yet not, a teasing of his senses, one he hadn’t anticipated and therefore hadn’t guarded against. He clamped down on his instinctive reaction.
    Apparently oblivious, she continued into the kitchen. “It’s my duty to help.” She glanced back at him. “As I did with the crofters—the Fields—all those years ago.”
    Closing the door, he frowned. “I thought your duties, as such, were limited to the Vale.”
    “The Lady considers these lands—the Carrick estate, all of it, it seems—to be part of her domain, too. Hence all the people on the estate are in her care, so if they need the sort of help I can give”—she spread her hands—“I’m here.”
    Halting at the end of the kitchen table, he watched her sort through the various herbs she’d pulled from her saddlebag. After several moments, he shifted. “I’ll go and check on the Bradshaws.”
    She nodded without looking up.
    After confirming that all was quiet in the bedrooms, he sank into the chair beside the sofa. Resting his elbows on his thighs, linking his hands and propping his chin upon them, he watched Joy Burns. He wished she could rouse enough to tell him what had happened, whether her taking poison had been a terrible accident, or…
    His mind balked