Read Fair Juno for Free Online Page B

task, Martin knelt opposite his assistant and, dipping his fingers in the water, sprinkled the pile of meal. Helen caught the idea. Soon, a satisfyingly large mound of soft dough had been formed. Helen carried the dough to the fire in her hands, while Martin brought up the heavy rock.
    She had seen him wash an old piece of iron and scrub it down with straw. He had placed it across the fire. She watched as he brought up the water pail and let a drop fall to the heated surface. Critically, he watched it sizzle into steam.
    Martin smiled. ‘Just right. The trick is not to let it get too hot.’
    Confidently, he set two pieces of dough on to the metal surface and quickly flattened them with his palm.
    Helen pulled an old crate closer to the fire. ‘How do you know all this?’
    A slow grin twisted Martin’s lips. ‘Among my many and varied past lives, I was a soldier.’
    ‘In the Peninsula?’
    Martin nodded. While they cooked and ate their pancakes, he entertained her with a colourful if censored account of his campaigning days. These had necessarilyculminated with Waterloo. ‘After that, I returned to…my business affairs.’
    He rose and stretched. The night was deepest black about them. It was as if they were the only souls for miles. His lips twisted in a wry grin. Stranded in a barn with fair Juno—what an opportunity for one of his propensities. Unfortunately, fair Juno was unquestionably gently bred and was under his protection. His grin turned to a grimace, then was wiped from his face before she could see it. He held out a hand to help her to her feet.
    ‘Time for bed.’ Resolutely, he quelled his fantasies, insistently knocking on the door of his consciousness. He inclined his head towards the ladder. ‘There are piles of fresh straw up there. We should be snug enough for the night.’
    Helen went with him readily, any fears she had possessed entirely allayed by the past hours. She felt perfectly safe with him, perfectly confident of his behaving as he ought. They were friends of sorts, engaged in an adventure.
    Her transparent confidence was not lost on Martin. He found her trust oddly touching, not something he was usually gifted with, not something he had any wish to damage. Reaching the foot of the ladder, he unhooked the lantern. ‘I’ll go up first.’ He smiled. ‘Can you climb the ladder alone?’
    The idea of being carried up the ladder, thrown over hisshoulder like a sack of potatoes, was not to be borne. Helen considered the ascent, then shrugged out of his greatcoat. ‘If you’ll take that up, I think I can manage.’
    Briskly, Martin went up, taking the coat and the lantern with him. Then he held the lantern out to light her way. Helen twisted her skirts to one side and, guarding against any mis-step, carefully negotiated the climb.
    Above her, Martin swallowed his curses. He had thought coming up first was the right thing to do, relieving her of the potential embarrassment of accidentally exposing her calves and ankles to his view. But the view he now had— of a remarkable expanse of creamy breasts, barely concealed by the low neckline of her gown—was equally scandalous. And equally tempting. And he was going to have to spend a whole night with her within reach?
    He gritted his teeth and forced his features to behave.
    After drawing her to safety, he crossed to the hay door and propped it ajar, admitting the cool night air and fitful streaks of moonlight, shafting through breaks in the storm clouds. He extinguished the lantern and placed it safely on a beam. Earlier in the evening, he had brought up the carriage blanket from the curricle. Spreading his greatcoat in the straw, he picked up the blanket and handed it to her. ‘You can sleep there. Wrap yourself up well or you’ll be cold.’
    The air in the loft was warmer than below but the nightboded ill for anyone dressed only in two layers of silk. Gratefully, Helen took the blanket and shook it out, then realised there was only one.