“Such as?”

“The art of rising early.”

Sophia nodded. “He’s still a bit surly, but Stephen no longer has to beat him about the head with his pillow.”

“A lovely talent, that,” Chase said. “I suppose I would never have known how to get up at such an ungodly hour without your help.”

“Yes,” Ophelia said, “and you’ve learned that sheep ointment is best used only on sheep.”

“I believe I already knew that lesson. It is Harriet who did not.”

“Oh, I never use it on myself,” Harriet said airily. “Just on braggarts who do not appreciate the efforts expended on their behalf.”

“And you’ve learned to be far more pleasant,” Sophia said brightly. “Mother was just saying that she could not imagine dinner without your stories of town and the people there, although I still do not credit it that Lord Byron eats naught but potatoes and vinegar.”

Chase sighed, though a grin tickled his mouth.

Ophelia frowned. “How will we find Derrick to tell him he has work to do?”

Stephen pushed himself from the gate railing and grabbed his crutches. “He’ll be in the library, reading a book. I’ll fetch him myself.”

Harriet nodded and looked at Ophelia and Sophia. “Help Mother clean up luncheon. Chase and I will sharpen the shears in the barn and we’ll all be back here in an hour when the next batch of sheep is brought in.”

They nodded and scurried off, laughing and talking as they went.

Harriet watched them go, a bubble of laughter still in her throat. She collected the shears and walked toward the barn, aware of Chase falling into step beside her.

As they neared the barn, she stole a glance up at him. He strode beside her, his shirt open at the throat, his sleeves rolled up, his skin already tanning a light brown. The breeze played with his hair, sending it over his brow.

He looked different from the man they’d found in the woods, she suddenly realized, wondering what it was. He didn’t seem so…sullen. Angry. “Are you happy?”

He looked down at her. “Happy?”

She hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud. But since she had…“Yes. Are you happy? It’s an easy enough question.”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.” He pursed his lips.

Harriet tried not to watch, but she couldn’t help herself. Chase’s lips had kissed her, possessed her, tasted her in ways she’d never thought lips could.

He caught her glance, and his gaze immediately darkened. He bent and said into her ear, “Don’t look at me like that unless you’re willing to pay the consequences.”

His voice brushed over her, sending a trill of shivers down her back. “I didn’t look at you any particular way.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No.”

His hand snaked about her wrist and suddenly, she was jerked into the barn, the shears tumbling to the barn floor. Harriet could only blink as Chase pushed the large doors closed and dropped the bar into place.