Francesca stood, speechless, for a moment. Had a groom just asked her to help him with his duties? She blinked. In England he wouldn’t have dared, yet she realized she liked being treated normally and without all the fuss her title generally evoked.
Stepping forward, she grabbed the brush the groom had indicated and approached the stall, her heart almost skidding to a halt when he returned to view. Hunched over with his back toward her, he held one of Wolfgang’s legs while scraping away the dirt from the horse’s hoof with a metal object. His jacket had been flung over the side of the stall, allowing Francesca to observe his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and most notably, a rather firm–looking backside.
Additionally, there was a ruggedness about him brought on by the work he was doing with his hands that every gentleman she’d ever met lacked.
“If you come over here,” he said, releasing Wolfgang’s leg and straightening, “you’ll have better access.”
How she managed to put one foot in front of the other when she was barely able to breathe, she’d never know, but now that the groom was standing at his full height, she’d become alarmingly aware of his much larger size. And then of course there was the fact that he was looking at her again, affording her with another glimpse of those dark eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled. God help her but she’d never seen a man this attractive before in her life.
Feeling terribly foolish for her ridiculous response to him, she gave a curt nod and moved to the spot he’d suggested. Setting the brush against Wolfgang’s back, she started to brush him, gasping when the groom placed his hand over hers shortly after. “Like this,” he said as he guided her hand. “Nice and easy.”
Drawing a deep breath, Francesca hoped to slow her racing heart, but he was too close, crowding her with his masculinity, the scent of wool, dirt, and leather assaulting her senses.
“I understand,” she said, her voice but a whisper that sounded far too sensual to her own ears.
He released her hand and moved to the corner of the stall where he picked up a bucket and held it so Wolfgang could drink. “Do you enjoy riding?” he asked.
Unable to look at him, she simply nodded. There was something about the way in which he’d posed the question that made heat swirl inside her. This wasn’t normal. Dropping her hand, she took a step back. “I ought to return to the castle.”
“I was rather hoping you might join me for a glass of wine first. After all, it is Christmas Eve.”
Drinking wine with a groom? That had to be at the top of the list of scandalous things a young lady ought to avoid at all cost. Right below kissing a groom, which would undoubtedly be worse. Her cheeks heated at the thought. “Thank you, but I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“Why not?” His features were all seriousness while his dark eyes seemed to pierce her with intensity.
“I’ve had enough for tonight,” she confessed.
“A pity since the wine in my satchel is far superior to any of the ones in the castle.”
Amused by the pompous tone he’d just used and the implication that his wine would be better than that belonging to a prince, Francesca grinned. “I’m sure it is.”
“Perhaps just a sip?” he suggested.
It was tempting, but so was he, and with added wine, who knew what might happen. She couldn’t allow herself to be ruined. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t.”
“Hmm…” He set down the bucket and snatched up his jacket. “Will you at least keep me company?”
“I’m not sure–”
“You have the prettiest blue eyes and the loveliest smile, you know. And when you just laughed…well, I must admit that the sound of it went straight to my heart.” He placed his hand over his chest, his eyes sparkling with irresistible sincerity. “Please, allow me to enjoy my wine in your delightful company.”
The simple request was impossible to deny. “All right. But I can’t stay long.”
He smiled at her broadly. “Just as long as it takes for you to tell me about yourself.” He gestured toward the door of the stall, and she went through it, feeling quite absurd about this newly formed companionship. Stranger still was when she took her seat on a bale of hay with him next to her, she found herself relaxing. Certainly her stomach still flipped whenever their eyes happened to meet, but aside from that, she felt increasingly comfortable in his presence – as if they’d been friends for years.
“Do you like to travel?” he asked her a good hour later when he’d finished the last of his wine, “or do you prefer to stay at home?”
“I’ve always loved seeing new places, though I’d rather be home for Christmas.”
“Then you must be quite disappointed to be stuck here in the snow.”
His tone was light, yet Francesca couldn’t help but sense he was hoping she’d disagree with his assessment. “It’s not what I wished for,” she told him honestly, “but since I have no choice in the matter, I’m quite determined to make the most of it. As are my parents. Besides, I wouldn’t have met you if we hadn’t been forced to stop along the way, and I must say I’m very glad I have.”
Smiling with clear satisfaction, he reached for her hand. “Me too.”
Tilting her head, she studied his rumpled jacket, his messy hair and his muddy boots. “I hope you won’t be offended by this, but you’ve proven yourself very knowledgeable and well–spoken for a groom.”
His brow creased with a slight frown. “A groom?” He sounded surprised.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “Are you not a groom?”
“No,” he told her pensively, as if trying to figure out why she might think such a thing.
“A stable hand then?”
“Does it really matter, as long as we enjoy each other’s company? If you thought me a groom then you’re clearly not the sort of lady who would consider herself too good to share a modest man’s company, for which I am grateful. Most of the ladies I’ve encountered would have snubbed their noses. They certainly wouldn’t have helped take care of a horse or sit on a bale of hay inside a stable.”
Absurdly pleased with his praise, Francesca gave a little shrug. “I’ve always judged people individually and with a deliberate attempt not to generalize.”
“Another reason why I like you. As selfish as it may be, I hope the snow doesn’t melt too fast. I’d like for us to be allowed more time together.”
He squeezed her hand a little, which made her shudder in a delicious sort of way that she really shouldn’t allow. And yet, she couldn’t deny that she liked the idea of meeting him again and talking more. Still… “As much as I’ve enjoyed this evening, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Because no matter how you feel or what you want, you were born to fulfill a duty? Because your future cannot possibly include a mere groom?” He shook his head even as her throat tightened with the unfairness of it all. “I know all too well about the restrictions Society can place upon one’s shoulders and how difficult it can be to accept them. But since it is Christmas, perhaps you should allow yourself to dream a little.”