In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 15

I find I have a use for you...

Claymore's words looped in Charlie's head like a revolving wheel. Her thoughts turned slow and sluggish. Her tongue was thick. And all she could focus on was the earl's scent of spice and musk. It blanketed her. His body shadowed her. And she found her thoughts scattering like so much fog.

It had taken the clattering of footsteps to shake her back into the present.

Had the man just offered her employment?

Before Charlie could understand the implications of such a thing - the abrupt change in her fortunes for better or for worse - the proprietor's voice sounded as his steps shuffled into the stables. No doubt the man had just been informed of the scuffle that had transpired upon his property. 

Charlie knew the man only showed concern because the earl had been a participant - however unwittingly, that was.

The proprietor's mumbling could be heard followed by the chittering of others coming out to investigate. They were like a flock of sheep, Charlie thought uncharitably. Too frightened to offer assistance, but more than willing to gawk and bleet in the aftermath.

Charlie wondered if the earl had even taken notice of them for his attention hadn't wavered from her. 

Claymore's body remained much too close for comfort. But she couldn't protest the advantages. She was able to catalogue the man from the ballroom with the one standing before her now. Though he was dressed in more casual clothing, he still bore a striking figure. He was taller than she remembered, his eyes a darker gray - an intense gray that seemed to uncover her every secret.

Which was quite preposterous, surely.

"Oh, my lord! I came as soon as I heard!" The proprietor's words came from behind Charlie.

Claymore gave Charlie one last look from beneath his brows, a smile playing about his lips, as he stepped away from her. Charlie scampered from the corner, taking her first deep breath of fresh air since the earl had awoken.

Since Charlie had found her body secured beneath his.

Charlie shut off the thoughts, walking over to Sir Rupert who watched the commotion of one who was mildly interested, but wearily so. Charlie took the moment to compose herself, inadvertently seeking escape. It was not to be, however. Charlie was quite trapped. Claymore's body blocked the route before her while the voice of the proprietor hovered behind. 

She watched as Claymore's mask fell into place, his jaw hardening and his chin lifting. He looked down his nose at the proprietor appearing every inch the displeased and disgruntled aristocrat.

Charlie went unheeded as the proprietor moved around her, his eyes silently taking stock of the earl's appearance.

She found that it bristled. What if she had been harmed herself? Not to mention that it was, after all, her horse who had been targeted. Her, who had befallen such circumstances at this dueced establishment.

Unfortunatley for her, however, a lowly gentleman was of far less consequence than the health of a member of the peerage.

The proprietor paled as he came close to the earl. His brown eyes widened and his mouth hung agape as he hustled forward. He fluttered about, equal parts panic and outrage mottling his freckled complexion. "I can't believe it, my lord. I heard it was horse thieves. Thieves!" He spat, his palms stretched out beside him. His eyes rose to Claymore's gash, and the man twisted around sharply, snapping his fingers at a stable hand. "Don't just blather about, staring so. Call the constable at once! And ring for the doctor for his lordship!"