He and Primordial Nathan could hardly wait.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
Sara took his offered hand and stepped out of the coach, looking at the manor house before her. Far from being the depraved brothel she had imagined, the building was a perfect square, three stories tall of red brick with climbing ivy covering the front façade. Flat windows gleamed in the setting sun and the large front door stood open invitingly. Her shoes landed on well-tended gravel and her eyes scanned the groomed lawn, the green glistening as the sunlight kissed it goodnight. Gentle hills rose in the distance, peeking out over clusters of trees.
This house was cared for; this house was a home.
“What is this place?” she asked, looking at Nathan. His eyes were on her, blue and unreadable.
“Cloverfields,” he replied.
“You know the owner?”
He nodded. “We will not be disturbed.”
She turned her gaze back to the house, impressed by its understated elegance and welcoming ambiance.
“What do you think?” His question was odd. They were still standing next to the coach, her hand in his.
Sara smiled, not looking at him. “I admit it is not what I had in mind.”
“You were expecting a bawdy house, perhaps? With red silk drapery and gold carpeting, plush pillows and mattresses that envelop you, and erotic statues everywhere?”
She blushed, dropping her head. He took a step toward her and his heat spread along her arm, which was now held against his chest. Nathan lowered his head to her ear, his low chuckle caressing the sensitive skin. “Men and women make love everywhere, Nymph, not just in bawdy houses.”
Her face was now on fire and he pulled away, still chuckling. He tugged on her hand and they moved toward the manor house, his cane in his other hand supporting his leg. They hadn’t gotten far when pounding footsteps came from around one corner of the house. A lanky teenage boy with short hair and square head appeared at a run, his face red from his exertion.
He halted in front of them, his breath coming in short gasps. “Sorry, Mr. Grant. Da said you’d be comin’ in the morning. Mum’s got the room ready still.”
“Never mind, Liam, just help Sawyer with the horses and trunks.”
“Aye, sir.” The eager lad jerked his head in a nod and made to do as ordered.
“Liam.” Nathan stopped him and gestured to Sara. “My wife, Mrs. Grant. My dear, Liam Taggert, boy of all jobs. His parents are the caretakers.”
Her throat immediately was flooded with ants, so Sara simply smiled and nodded at the boy. He grinned back, his red cheeks ballooning on his face. “Welcome to Cloverfields, Mrs. Grant. Anythin’ you need, just give us a shout.”
When she continued to just smile, Nathan squeezed her hand and spoke. “Bring our trunks to our room.” He dismissed Liam with a nod and resumed their walk to the door.
A middle-aged couple stepped out, the man short and thin accompanied by a woman of matching stature. Both smiled and moved out of the entrance, bowing and curtseying appropriately.
Nathan released his hold on Sara and offered his hand to the man. “Taggert, it is good to see you again.”
“Mr. Grant, welcome to Cloverfields.” The man shook his hand. He spoke with an Irish cadence.
“Thank you. Liam also extended greetings. Mrs. Taggert,” Nathan turned to the woman, “I understand we are earlier than expected. Please forgive the inconvenience.”
“Oh, it is no bother, sir,” Mrs. Taggert said. Her lilt echoed her husband’s. “The room is all done up.” She looked at Sara expectantly.
Nathan gestured at her. “Allow me to present my wife, Mrs. Grant.” He smiled at Sara’s reaction. “Hearing that still makes her blush,” he said conspiratorially to the Taggerts. They beamed in response.
“Mrs. Grant,” Mrs. Taggert said. “If you have not eaten, we can quickly have something laid in the dining room. It may not be fancy, but you will not be disappointed.”
Sara opened her mouth, but the ants still would not allow her voice to work. She merely smiled again and nodded. Nathan settled his hand on her back. “Why don’t we have it in our room? Mrs. Taggert, show her where it is while I have a word with your husband.”