by Olivia Drake
Alone.
Slim and willowy, she headed to the marble mantelpiece where a fire flickered. A pair of coffee-brown settees faced each other with a table in between them. He’d been sitting there a short while ago, perusing a book, when he’d been struck by the compulsion to go down to the kitchen. Odd, that. He was too rational a man to believe in premonitions. Yet the connection he felt with Natalie made him wonder if he’d somehow sensed her peril.
Now, she stood gazing down into the low-burning flames. With her hair plaited into a glossy dark braid that draped over one shoulder, she looked young and vulnerable, in contrast to her usual intrepid self. It struck him that this was a woman who could endanger his carefully ordered life.
The notion rattled him. He had no intention of altering his plans. He had already made his choice for a wife.
Yet the ground seemed to be shifting beneath him. Wouldn’t his London friends laugh if they knew that after a string of elegant mistresses, he could feel so drawn to a provincial spinster? That he found well-worn flannel to be more titillating than a filmy negligee? That having selected his blue-blooded bride, he lusted instead for an eccentric, lively, and outspoken American?
Devil take it. This was a moment out of time, that was all. Tonight, nothing else mattered to him but Natalie.
Setting down the plate of tarts, Hadrian went to her side. He took the candle from her and placed it on the table. Lacing her cold fingers with his, he guided her to the settee that he’d occupied earlier. “Your skin is like ice. Come and sit near the fire.”
As she took the seat closest to the hearth, Natalie seemed to make a concentrated effort to rally herself. “I haven’t yet thanked you.”
He sank onto one knee and clasped her hands between his to warm them. He was keenly aware of the softness of her skin, the delicacy of her fingers. It felt like cupping a small bird between his palms. “Thanked me?”
“Yes, that’s the second time today that you’ve saved my life.” She turned over his hand, examining the reddened area on the back. “First you hurt your shoulder on my behalf. And this time, you’ve skinned your knuckles.”
“The incident with the stallion was a fluke. As for tonight, you brained the villain yourself. I merely delivered the coup de grâce.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Remind me never to venture too close when you’re wielding a pot.”
His jesting tone brought a sparkle to her eyes. “Behave like a gentleman and you’ve naught to fear. And by the way, gentleman has little to do with exalted birth. I’ve met fine, honorable gentlemen from all walks of life. What’s important is courtesy, principles, and respect for others.”
“I do hope you’ll include a duke in that group.”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Absurdly pleased to be the recipient of her approval, he arose and went to a nearby cabinet. “Would you care for a glass of sherry? Or something stronger, a brandy, perhaps?”
“Brandy, please. I often enjoyed that or a whiskey with my father.”
Hadrian wasn’t surprised by her unconventional tastes. He busied himself with filling two glasses from the decanter. “You’re right to believe that character matters. I know aristocrats who possess none of those qualities. But I suppose every class of society has its bad apples.”
“In America we have no classes,” she pertly reminded him. “No one rules over others by birthright.”
The mild jibe only amused him as he handed her one of the tumblers. “An egalitarian system of governance seems to work well in a fledgling country like the United States. However, we’re much more entrenched in our ways here in England. The aristocracy has been around since the time of William the Conqueror. To change it now would risk chaos and societal collapse, as happened in France during our parents’ generation.”
“Hm.” She held up her glass in a mock toast. “Well, I could hardly wish the guillotine on my twice-savior, could I? How is your shoulder, by the way?”
The glow of those green eyes scrambled his brain, and he required a moment to comprehend that she was referring to the stallion’s kick. “A slight twinge now and then, nothing more.”
In reality, he felt a persistent dull throb, but the brandy should take care of that. He tossed back half his drink, then went to the hearth and added fuel to the fire, poking it with the fire iron so that a shower of sparks flew up the chimney. He needed to get a grip on himself. This hunger he felt had no place in a cordial association with an American governess. Having been awarded the designation of gentleman, he didn’t want to ruin his image by succumbing to the urge to kiss her senseless.
Hadrian turned back around to see her paging through the book that had been lying on the table. She glanced up, frowning slightly. “This atlas has a marker at the map of North America.”
“I was looking at it earlier, hoping to locate the settlement where you and Leo lived. Bellingham, you said it was called, after Audrey and Jeremy.”
Sampling her brandy, Natalie nodded. “It’s in the southeastern part of Michigan territory, but it’s too new to be on this map.”
“Ah. I’d wondered. I’m not entirely familiar with the country, so I was probably looking in the wrong spot, anyway.”
He took a place on the settee across from her. It was best to keep a circumspect distance. That way, temptation could be easily resisted, a necessary precaution since she looked entirely too pretty in the soft firelight.
He had no sooner taken a drink than she arose. Carrying her brandy glass and the atlas, Natalie came around the table and seated herself right beside him. Her nearness was a jolt to his senses. What was it about her that made him feel as besotted as a schoolboy infatuated with his first girl?
She regarded him a little doubtfully. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. It’s just that you sounded interested in viewing the map.”
“I am interested. Very much so.”
Damn, now that sounded forward. But she either didn’t notice the double entendre or chose to disregard it. She spread the open atlas across their laps, so that the right half rested on his thigh and the left on hers, with the spine in between them.
“The reason you couldn’t find Bellingham,” she said, “is that the mission was built only seven years ago, and this map appears to be outdated by over a decade. See? It lists Ohio as part of the Northwest Territory.”
“Then where is Bellingham?”
“Right here, close to the western end of Lake Erie and just above where the Ohio border is now.”
He moved the lamp from the side table so that the light fell on the place where she was pointing. “Ohio … is that now part of the United States?”
“Yes, it was added over ten years ago. I remember in particular because my father was involved in passing the Enabling Act, which established a procedure for creating new states. I must have been about fourteen, then. Old enough to recall the celebrations, including a parade and a special dinner at my house for members of Congress. I was allowed to join them for the dessert course.”
He picked up the plate. “Speaking of dessert, would you care for a tart?”
She accepted one of the small pastries and smiled her thanks. While her attention was focused downward at the page, he took the opportunity to study her classic profile. She had long dark lashes, tipped in gold by the firelight. He ached to know if her cheek felt as petal soft as it looked. How he would enjoy kissing her, nuzzling her throat, opening her robe and …
To distract himself, he wolfed down a tart. The cinnamon apples and flaky crust melted on his tongue, but he’d have traded it in an instant for a taste of her bare skin.
While studying the map, Natalie nibbled on her own tart. “Look,” she said, her fingertip touching the page. “Here’s Philadelphia, where I was born. It’s also where I first met Audrey, when she and Jeremy came to raise the funds to build their mission.” Her finger trailed lower. “And here’s our capital, Washington, where I spent quite a lot of time, too.”
�
�Your father was a senator.”
“Yes, my mother had died at my birth, so Papa asked me to be his hostess when I turned sixteen. It was both an honor and a challenge to plan parties for the president and foreign dignitaries. I learned the importance of being organized, and how to deal with crises like unexpected guests or fallen soufflés.”
The vivacity that lit up her face charmed Hadrian as much as the diversity of her experiences intrigued him. “So, before your time in the wilderness, you were accustomed to being at the center of American society.”
“Yes, due to Papa’s position.” A wistful note entered her tone. “I do miss him very much. He was a fine man, kind and generous to a fault, along with being a great orator. And he wasn’t just an empty talker like some politicians, he was genuinely devoted to helping people. If you were caught in a snowstorm, he would give you the coat off his back, even if it meant he himself would freeze.”
“A true gentleman, then. May I ask what happened to him?”
“He was struck down by a heart spasm two years ago. He’d only just retired from Congress, intending to spend more time on our horse farm.” She cast a somber look toward the fire. “We were planning to go for an early ride that morning. But when he didn’t come down for breakfast, I went upstairs and found him, still lying in bed. He looked … so peaceful…”
When her voice faltered, Hadrian placed his hand over hers. He himself scarcely remembered his own sire. How much harder it must have been for Natalie since she’d been close to her father into adulthood. “I’m sorry. Perhaps there’s a certain solace to be had in knowing he didn’t suffer.”
She drew a deep breath. “Yes, I’m grateful for that. I’ve many happy memories of him, too.”
“You haven’t mentioned any other family. Did you have cousins, aunts, uncles to comfort you?”
“I’m afraid there was no one. My mother was an only child. And my father…” For no apparent reason, her manner took on a certain reserve. She withdrew her hand from beneath his, ostensibly to brush a few crumbs off the atlas. “Well, his family lived very far away.”
He had the distinct impression he’d probed too deeply into her private life. A pity, because he burned to know why she’d never married. It seemed only natural that a lovely, vibrant woman would have had many suitors, especially if she’d lived in the public eye. Perhaps she’d merely been loath to leave her beloved father.
Setting aside the atlas, he arose to fetch the decanter and refill their glasses. “So Audrey’s family became your family. I’m curious, why did she and her husband choose such a remote locale for their mission?”
“Jeremy attended a lecture in Philadelphia, by a traveling preacher who spoke of a great need to bring the word of God to the natives on the frontier. They went where they felt they could accomplish the most good.”
“Were they not concerned that it was dangerous? I recall there being a dispute about the Northwest Territory. It was claimed by the British and the Canadians, as well as the Americans.”
“When they built the settlement, the area was peaceful. Leo was born there, and they took it as a sign from God that they were meant to stay. They befriended the local natives, shared their faith with them, and strove to demonstrate that they could all live together in harmony.”
Hadrian tried to imagine dainty, fair-haired Audrey living in a rough cabin on the frontier with a baby and a preacher husband. Even surrounded by a log fence, an outpost in hostile territory had to be a perilous place. “Why didn’t they leave when the war began? And what about you? You must have traveled there in the midst of the war.”
“Bellingham was located some twenty-five miles from the nearest battle site, at River Raisin. Anyway, a year had passed with no further skirmishes in the area. I’d always enjoyed teaching, and after Papa’s death, I thought it time to find another way that I could be useful.”
“Yet Bellingham didn’t turn out to be quite so safe a refuge, after all,” he murmured.
Abruptly, torment shadowed her face and robbed her beautiful eyes of their brightness. Natalie surged to her feet, her fingers tightly clutching the wrapper at her throat. “I—I’d rather not talk about this anymore. It’s late.”
Silently cursing himself, Hadrian arose, too. Why had he stirred up painful memories by alluding to the massacre? It was none of his concern. He had a strict policy of not involving himself in other people’s troubles. Especially in situations where intense emotional outbursts might occur.
But she had survived a harrowing attack. It was clear that the experience still weighed heavily on her. And he simply couldn’t abide the thought of her suffering alone.
He stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. She felt rigid to the point of trembling, and he gently massaged her tight muscles. “Are you certain you don’t wish to talk, Natalie? I suspect more transpired during the massacre than you’ve let on. When the British soldiers attacked the settlement, you said that you were in the schoolroom. And that you hid the children in a shed. What else happened?”
She glanced away, biting her lip. “You’re better off not knowing.”
He cupped her cheek, turning her face back toward him. “But you’re not better off,” he said softly. “I suspect this has been eating away at you, that it’s the true cause of that bout of weeping in the kitchen. You said, ‘I didn’t want to kill him.’ You couldn’t have been referring to Bert because you’d just seen him walk out of the room, very much alive.”
Her bleak gaze fixed on Hadrian. But he had the sense that she wasn’t really seeing him, that she was looking inward at some horror from the past. “It serves no purpose to rehash the past.”
“Yet it can’t be doing any good, either, to let it fester inside of you. A burden is easier to carry if it’s shared.”
He wasn’t sure where that knowledge had come from. It was precisely what he’d avoided doing in his own life. His friends wisely respected his aloof reserve and knew better than to pour out their personal problems. Until this moment he’d never wanted anyone to confide their darkest secrets in him.
But he did now.
Their gazes clung for a moment. Then she drew a ragged breath and stepped away from him, her arms wrapped around her middle. “It all … happened so fast. After I ushered the children to safety, Leo included, I put one of the older boys in charge of the little ones. They were to remain in the shed and stay quiet. I couldn’t just cower there with them, you see. I had to go and help my friends and neighbors. They were dying.”
Chilled, Hadrian watched her pace back and forth in front of the hearth, the hem of her robe swishing around her ankles. “My God, what did you think you could do against armed troops?”
“I had my pistol. My father taught me from a young age how to defend myself. Upon leaving the children, I made haste toward the sounds of gunfire and … and screams. But as I went toward the front of the schoolhouse, a man came at a fast pace around the corner … one of the British soldiers.”
Hadrian gripped his fingers into fists to keep from going to her. It was clear from her tense posture that she’d erected a wall around herself and would reject comfort. Especially from an Englishman.
Shifting her gaze to the fire, she continued in that flat tone, “He was so close, only a few feet away. He sprang at me, a sword in his hand. There was such bloodlust in his eyes, it was like looking into the face of a … a demon. Retreat was out of the question, for it would mean leading him back toward the children. I raised my pistol, but it misfired and then he knocked it out of my hand. He threw me to the ground and tried to push up my skirt. But he didn’t know … that I had a knife in my pocket. I … I cut his throat.”
On that last sentence, her voice wobbled. She buried her face in her hands, her body shuddering.
Hadrian hastened to wrap his arms around her slender form. Would that he could absorb her pain! Stroking the tautness of her back, he murmured consoling phrases that he’d have thought trite under any other circumstances. But there w
as simply nothing else to say that would cleanse her of the dreadful memory.
At the same time, fury gripped him that any man, let alone a British soldier, would dare to attack her—and Audrey. On his return to London, he’d have a few choice words with the War Secretary about the behavior of the troops toward civilians, women in particular.
Gradually, Natalie melted into him, her breath warm on his neck and her arms circling his waist. A powerful wave of tenderness replaced his anger. Though not a particularly religious man, he uttered a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks that her life had been spared. That she could be here in this moment with him, safe within his embrace.
When she raised her head, he half expected another storm of tears. But her haunted gaze held only sadness. “Why did I survive and not Audrey?”
Torment vibrated in her voice, and he felt at a loss to assuage it. The truth, he suspected, was that Audrey had been a healer, not a fighter. Her genteel upbringing had proved a liability in time of crisis.
He brushed away a lock of sable hair from Natalie’s cheek. “Perhaps because you were armed and willing to fight back.”
She considered that a moment. “It’s a terrible thing to kill someone. I still have nightmares about the blood … and seeing the life fade from his eyes.”
“You did what you had to do,” Hadrian said with tender intensity. “He deserved to die.”
“That doesn’t make it any less gruesome. I was trapped beneath him for a time before I was able to free myself. Tonight, when Bert collapsed onto me, it all came rushing back. That’s why I … I fell apart.” She glanced away. “Forgive me, Hadrian, I never meant to involve you in my troubles.”
With a light clasp of her chin, he turned her face back toward him. “There’s no need to apologize.”
“But I’ve never in my life wept like that, not even after the massacre.”
“Come, sit down.” He guided Natalie to the settee and tried not to notice how perfect she felt nestled in the crook of his arm, her bosom cushioned to his side. Only a cad would be having lusty thoughts when she’d just confessed a horrific experience. “I think you’re remarkably levelheaded, and I admire your pluck. In the space of a few years, your father died, then your best friends. Maybe you’ve kept this experience hidden away simply because you had no one left in whom to confide.”
