by Meara Platt
She cleared her throat and tried not to blush when he put his hands on either side of her waist to help her up a particularly tall step.
Her heart wasn’t merely beating faster, it was now in a frenzied leap.
Heat swept through her body in unexpectedly fiery waves. She’d never experienced this sensation before, certainly never when Richard touched her. “Where was I? Oh, yes. My governess thought it would be fun for both of us to have our palms read. So she took me into the fortune teller’s tent. It was a big, red tent. The inside was dark and mysterious.”
“You were young and impressionable.”
“Indeed, I was completely taken in and scared before the woman even looked at me. She had me sit down and then she took my hand and peered at it for the longest time. She ran her finger along my life line. I thought she was going to say something nice. Instead, she told me that a dragon was going to eat my heart.”
“That’s an unusual fortune. And you believed her?”
“Yes!” She shook her head, now able to laugh about it although it had affected her for months afterward. “I thought a sharp-taloned creature with glistening black scales and smoke spewing from its nostrils was going to swoop down at any moment and grab me in its jaws. I ran out of her tent in tears. The boy I mentioned, Caleb, found me and asked me why I was crying.”
He grinned. “You told him that a dragon was going to eat you.”
She nodded. “In a truly lovely gesture, he bought me an amulet. At least, he called it that. He said he was a dragon slayer and was giving me this magical token to keep the dragons away. He assured me that no harm would come to me while I wore it. He must have thought I was the silliest creature alive.”
“No, Lady Faith. I’m sure he found you charming.”
“Oh, I doubt it.” She paused as he helped her up another particularly steep stretch of the path. What was it about him? And his touch?
They were almost at the top of the hill now and would soon reach the meadow where the gypsies were setting up their tents. She was relieved, for General Brayden wouldn’t need to hold onto her once they were on flat ground. Nor would she need to put her arm in his for support. Indeed, she’d make certain no part of her body touched his. “The fair begins tomorrow. I’m going to search for the fortune teller and ask her why she said such a cruel thing to me.”
“Assuming she still travels with this fair. Do you recall her name?”
Faith nibbled her lip and then sighed. “No, but I think I will recognize her when I see the red tent. I may not remember the name she used, but seeing her banner will jog my memory. I won’t be afraid this time.”
“Because you are older and wiser?”
She laughed. “No, because I’m wearing the amulet the boy gave me. I’ve worn it every day since.” She stopped as they were about to walk through the meadow and, ignoring the resolution she’d just made not to touch him, held him back with the light touch of her hand. “Look. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“QUITE BEAUTIFUL,” CALEB said, determined to keep his voice calm and unaffected even as his heart burst with an elation he’d never felt before. So many feelings tore through him at once. Pride. Pleasure. Joy. Surprise. Love? Not only did she have his amulet, but she’d treasured it.
He pretended to inspect the charm as though he’d never seen it before.
“I know it may not look like anything to you. But what that young man did for me was truly wonderful.”
He hadn’t expected this. Even though she hadn’t recognized him today, she’d remembered. She’d treasured the silly charm. But his heart had yet to recover from the added jolt of watching her reach her hand into her bosom to draw it out. Faith had a body that would put a spring in any man’s step. “I’m sure you were quite special to him.”
“Oh, goodness no! He’d never set eyes on me before that moment. I was a weepy, blotchy mess and he didn’t know where to apply his handkerchief first.” She laughed again and rolled her eyes. “I never saw him after that afternoon. I would have liked to do something nice for him in return. At least pay him back for this amulet.”
“I’m sure he would not have accepted reimbursement.”
“I suppose you’re right. What he did was quite noble and taking money for it would have wounded his pride.” She drew a deep breath and suddenly froze in place.
“Lady Faith, are you all right?”
She shook her head and tried to calm herself. “No, that woman beside the wagon… I think it’s her.”
“The fortune teller? Are you certain?”
“The wagon looks familiar. I don’t know. So much time has passed. My memory may be faulty. But a wagon similar to that one was beside the red tent when Miss Crandall took me for my palm reading. I suppose it was her home. Still must be her home. It looks quite inviting actually. Don’t you find that odd?”
“These gypsies live out of their wagons. She would have wanted to make it as pretty and cheerful as possible. A nomadic life cannot be easy, especially when one is met with distrust and suspicion at every stop. One’s home is one’s refuge.”
“Let’s move on, General Brayden.” She gave a little shiver. “I just felt a chill up my spine. This isn’t the right time to confront her.”
He took her hand and tucked it in his arm. “You’ll know when the moment is right.”
She allowed him to lead her away from the gypsy wagon. “No wonder your men adore you. And don’t bother to deny it. I know they must. You have a marvelously steady manner about you.”
His lips curved upward in a grin. “I shall tell that to Lord Castlereagh when he decides to demote me. But you can’t, my lord, I’ll say. Lady Faith claims I am a marvel.”
“You are,” she insisted, her smile as shimmering as sunlight on the water. “Do you dare deny it?”
“My older brother used to call me squid because I was all arms and legs and always underfoot. Marcus thought he was being quite clever when he named me that. Then my older cousins began calling me squid. I could be England’s next king and they would still refer to me as that.”
“Oh, how awful.” She appeared genuinely chagrined.
“No, it’s what boys do, especially to their younger brothers. But Marcus would walk through fire to rescue me from harm. Same for Tynan and James. We look out for each other. In truth, they aren’t much older than me. But as boys, the few years’ difference in our ages was huge.”
“Squid? Hmm, if I’d had older siblings, I think they would have called me frog.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Why ever would you think that?”
“Because my eyes were too big for my head. And they’re green as a frog’s skin. So, I’m sure that’s what I would have been called.”
He couldn’t resist tucking a finger under her chin and raising her gaze to his. He pretended to inspect her. Mercy. Was there a prettier girl in all of Scarborough? “Yes, I can see your point. But your eyes are in proper proportion to your head now, thank The Graces. Your ears stick out a little though. Are you certain you’re not an elf in disguise?”
He was teasing her and she seemed to enjoy his playful manner. He spoke to her gently, nothing at all the way he and the boys in his family used to beat up on each other. All in good fun, of course. But the teasing wouldn’t stop until one of them was howling or about to knock the other one to the floor.
He released her, careful to treat her delicately, although she was a spirited little thing and had no difficulty keeping up with him. They continued to Boscombe Manor, walking the rest of the way in silence.
He dreaded spending more time in Faith’s company and at the same time ached for every precious moment he could have with her. Their ten year separation had melted away to nothing the moment she’d burst into her uncle’s drawing room and greeted him.
He and Faith and the fortune teller were about to come together again. You will meet a dragoon who will devour your heart.
He was the dragoon. The fortune teller had to have known it all al
ong.
What was he meant to do about it?
CHAPTER FOUR
A PLEASANT LOOKING fellow who was standing beside Faith cast a speculative eye toward Caleb the moment he strode into the drawing room to join them for supper later that evening. The man had to be her beau, Lord Hawley. “Come, Richard. You must meet General Brayden,” Faith said and took his elbow to lead him toward Caleb.
Faith looked beautiful, her gown a simple confection of cream satin and delicate lace. Her hair was piled atop her head in stylish curls with a few wisps purposely positioned about the nape of her slender neck. The effect drew Caleb’s eyes downward to her rounded bosom.
Lord, he needed to be tossed into the North Sea to cool down.
The girl set him on fire and she didn’t even know it.
Hawley knew it though.
Faith attempted to make the introductions since he and Hawley were too busy assessing each other to bother being polite. Faith’s uncle was too caught up in a scholarly conversation with the local magistrate over the origin of a recently unearthed Viking artifact now on display in York to notice that he and Hawley were about to come to blows over his niece.
Of course, Caleb was not going to throw the first punch. If Hawley had any sense, he’d soon realize that he was no competition for the man. He might be a general, but he didn’t have wealth or a title.
“Will you be in Scarborough long, General Brayden?” Hawley moved closer to Faith, remaining possessively close as he staked his territory.
“No.” Caleb passed on the wine offered by a servant carrying a tray of glasses filled with the ruby liquid. “My regiment continues to Newcastle on Saturday morning.”
He saw relief wash over Hawley’s face.
And noted the disappointment in Faith’s beautiful eyes. “General Brayden fought at Waterloo,” she said. “His regiment was in the thick of battle. We must do something nice for them before they leave, Richard.”
He did not appear disdainful of the notion, but neither did he look pleased. “General Brayden seems to have matters well in hand. No need to interfere, Faith. Besides, you’ll be busy preparing for our party and I have important Hawley estate matters to attend to over the next few days.”
“Oh, is everything all right?” She pursed her lips, now worried for her beau.
“Yes, my dear. You needn’t fret. I’ll return in plenty of time for the party. Perhaps I’ll pick up a proper necklace for you to wear instead of that old thing you insist on keeping around your neck.”
Faith frowned. “My dragon? It isn’t old. There’s nothing wrong with it. You know it holds great sentimental value for me.”
“You will be a countess once we’re married, and a marchioness once my uncle passes away. That dragon will not do. My friends will believe I am a miser and too cheap to buy you proper jewels.” He turned to Caleb. “Is that not so? Would you not wish to purchase the best of everything for your betrothed?”
Caleb arched an eyebrow, understanding the subtle insult. The discussion was nonsense, serving only to point out that Hawley was wealthy and titled while Caleb was not. “I would do whatever made my wife-to-be happy. If she wished for the finest, I would move heaven and earth to oblige her. I would do it for her, not for the sake of what others might think.”
“Spoken like a man without a deep purse. Few soldiers are able to support a wife and children comfortably on their meager wages. I suppose even generals must struggle.”
“Richard!” She turned to Caleb, her eyes bright with indignation for the slight her beau had just given. “Please forgive him, General Brayden.”
Caleb wanted to toss Hawley through one of Lord Boscombe’s elegant windows. If it weren’t for Faith standing between them, he would have done so already.
The man was jealous and making an arse of himself in front of the very woman he was hoping to impress. Did he know so little about Faith? She didn’t care about possessing the finest carriages or gowns. She was all about sentiment and compassion.
Her eyes were still ablaze with indignation on his behalf. He didn’t need a woman fighting his battles either, but he liked this protective streak in Faith. She’d be just as protective of her children. Hawley ought to be grateful she’d be a good mother to their sons and daughters. “Richard,” she repeated, still frowning at her beau. “You ought to know me better by now. How could you think I’d marry a man for the size of his family jewels?”
Caleb grinned.
Hawley choked on the wine he’d just swallowed. “Faith, please–”
“No, I won’t hear of it. Apologize to General Brayden at once. As if I give a fig about your wretched jewels. I’m sure they’re not nearly as magnificent as you would have me believe. I assure you, my eyes will not pop wide when you pull them out and stick them under my nose.”
“Faith!”
She ignored her beau. “Come to think of it, you’ve just insulted me. Apologize to me as well.”
Caleb realized in this moment he was in love with Faith. Perhaps he’d been in love with her ever since spotting her on the hill earlier today, her long hair caught on the wind and whipping about her body.
Most likely, he’d been in love with her long before then.
The fortune teller had known.
That Faith was innocent and had never experienced a man’s touch filled him with relief. She was still going on about Hawley’s jewels, unaware in her innocence of the double meaning in that reference. She was crushing his manhood better than any fist pounding Caleb could ever administer.
He almost felt sorry for Hawley.
He couldn’t blame the man for wanting Faith.
Didn’t he ache for her as well?
Hawley was deep in his cups by the time supper ended. Faith helped him out of the dining room and into a wing chair in the drawing room. He immediately slumped in it and passed out.
“Oh, dear.” She began to nibble her lip. “He isn’t fit to ride home. I’ll have one of the guest bedchambers made up for him.”
Her uncle looked none too pleased. “Must he stay?”
“Yes, Uncle Winslow. He must.” She crossed the room and tugged on the bellpull to summon her butler and footmen to carry her beau upstairs. She cast Caleb an arch grin. “I’m putting him next door to you since the two of you seem to get on so well.”
Caleb laughed. He liked Faith’s wry wit. Hawley had behaved like an ass this evening, his jealousy on grand display for all to see. Had this lord been a violent sort, one to go off like a powder keg, the night would have turned ugly.
But Hawley was a mild-mannered fool, so he’d taken out his sorrows in a bottle of wine and hurled subtle insults throughout the night. Caleb could not imagine himself falling apart as this man had, and certainly never in front of Faith.
“I promise not to hit him unless he throws the first punch.”
She sighed. “General Brayden, I’m truly sorry for the unkind things he said to you. He’s never behaved like this before. He isn’t a bad person. May I apologize again on his behalf?”
“You needn’t. And call me Caleb.”
“Very well… Caleb. But you must call me Faith.” She suddenly blushed.
He eyed her questioningly.
“I’ve known you less than a day and you’ve brushed sand off my toes. It does sound wicked, doesn’t it? Perhaps Uncle Winslow was right. I’ve also shown you my dragon charm and told you about the fortune teller. I think Richard will be quite overset when he learns that I’ve confided things in you that I’ve never mentioned to him.”
“No doubt he sensed it, which made him behave as he did.” He nodded. “But he has no reason to doubt your integrity.”
“I hope not.”
She hopes not? What did that mean? He dared not ask.
He escorted Faith as she closed up the house. Moonlight shone through the windows, casting each room in silvery light. Faith was draped in moonlight as well, resembling a regal faerie queen in a glittering gown.
He imagined h
er gliding from room to room on gossamer wings.
He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her with all his heart and soul. Her beau was snoring upstairs and out of the way. He’d heard her uncle patter upstairs a few moments ago. Even the servants had now retired for the evening.
If he kissed Faith, could he ever let her go?
“Goodnight, Caleb. I enjoyed our day.”
“So did I, Faith.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded.
Kiss her, you fool.
And then what? Abandon her as he would surely have to do once he received his new orders?
Hell, how could he offer her a lifetime together when he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring?
CHAPTER FIVE
FAITH AWOKE EARLY and hurried downstairs only to learn Caleb was already up and out of the house. “Fleming, did he say where he was going?”
“No, m’lady. Breakfast is set out on the buffet in the dining room for you and your company.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. “Is anyone else awake?”
“Only you and General Brayden.”
“And you don’t know where he’s gone?”
Fleming cracked a smile. “No, m’lady. But I expect he’ll return shortly. He has better manners than to take himself off without a proper farewell to you and Lord Boscombe.”
The comment about manners had to have been aimed at Richard, who had behaved atrociously last night. While flaunting one’s wealth and title might be the thing to do in London, it was not appreciated here, certainly not among the hardworking people whose sons and fathers had been sent off to fight Napoleon while those like Richard had bought their way out of their obligations and remained safe at home.
She walked into the dining room feeling quite foolish even to care about Caleb or his whereabouts. Perhaps he’d taken a walk down to the beach for a final inspection before his men arrived. He might have gone for a ride around the countryside. After all, his magnificent beast would have needed the exercise.
