Beneath the Major's Scars

by Sarah Mallory

  When they reached the top he threw open the door and the light flooded in.

  ‘Do you not keep it locked?’

  ‘No need. My servants never come up here.’ He turned and reached down for her. ‘Give me your hand. There is no handrail and these last few stairs are uneven.’

  His fingers curled around her hand, warm and secure as he guided her up the final steps to the roof. She found herself on a flat roof, paved over with stone slabs and surrounded by a crenellated parapet.

  ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I feel I am on top of the world.’

  She became aware that the major was still holding her hand and looked up at him warily. Immediately he released her. She gazed out across the hills, her hands clutched against her breastbone.

  ‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ He stood beside her, the rough wool of his jacket rubbing against her bare arm. ‘Do not go too near the edge and do not lean against the battlements,’ he warned her. ‘The stonework is in poor condition.’

  ‘But you will repair it, won’t you, Major? I cannot bear to think that this view would be lost.’ She swung round and peeped up at him, trying and failing to suppress a smile. ‘Even though you are adamant you will not be having any guests here.’

  The answering gleam in his eyes made her own smile grow and she gazed up at him quite unselfconsciously, thinking how much better he looked when he was not scowling at everyone and everything. In fact, she did not even notice his scarred face when he looked at her in just that way.

  The playful breeze tugged a lock of hair free from her sensible topknot and whipped it across her face. She was going to sweep it away, but Dominic’s hand came up first and his fingers caught the errant curl.

  Zelah held her breath. Their eyes were still locked, and instead of removing his hand after tucking the curl behind her ear, he allowed it to slip to her neck while he ran his thumb lightly along her jaw. Her heart began to pound against her ribs and she kept her hands clenched across her breast as if to prevent it breaking free. Her mouth dried. There was an almost forgotten ache curling inside her. Anxiety? Excitement?

  With his hand on her neck he held her as surely as if she was in chains. She could not move. Indeed, she did not want to move, she wanted him to lower his head and kiss her. She wanted to feel his hands undressing her, exploring her body.

  Oh dear heaven, where had such wanton ideas come from?

  Something of her thoughts flickered in her eyes and immediately he released her. Zelah switched her gaze to the view, trying to recall what they were saying. Ah, yes. She had been teasing him. Well, that was clearly a very dangerous thing to do.

  The major cleared his throat. ‘If you have seen enough, perhaps we should go back downstairs.’

  ‘Yes.’ She was anxious to get away from his disturbing presence. ‘Yes, of course.’

  She went carefully down the steep spiral, one hand on the wall. Her legs were shaking and she was very conscious of Major Coale following her down. When they reached the landing she hurried on to the wooden stairs, halting only when she heard the major’s voice behind her.

  ‘I have to collect my hat and whip. Feel free to make use of the room if you wish, Miss Pentewan. I have no objection.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out and glanced back at him. He was standing once again in the doorway, blocking the light and enveloping her in his shadow. Binding her to him by some force beyond her comprehension.

  Zelah gave herself a mental shake. Fanciful nonsense. She must not give in to it. She nodded, trying to sound businesslike. ‘If there is nothing else, sir, I shall go home now.’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  Dominic watched her hasten away. Her hand looked unsteady on the banister, but she descended the stairs without mishap and disappeared from sight.

  He exhaled, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He had not meant to frighten her, but when they were up on the roof and she stood before him, her eyes shining with excitement, he had felt the desire slam through him. He should have known better. He could have moved away, turned his back on her, but the craving to touch her was so strong that he had given in to it. Even now he could feel her skin beneath his thumb, soft as a flower petal. And she had not moved away. Petrified, he thought sourly, for an instant later he had seen the horror in her face.

  What if he had frightened her so much that she did not return tomorrow? Perhaps that would be for the best. She unsettled him, with her teasing and her challenging questions. He squared his shoulders. He was a soldier. He would not be beaten by this slip of a girl! They had an agreement and he would not be the one to break it. Let her come to Rooks Tower and organise his library. But perhaps it would be wise if he kept out of her way.

  * * *

  The walk back to West Barton did much to calm Zelah’s disordered nerves. She had allowed herself to relax in Major Coale’s company. After all, one did not tease a gentleman, unless he was a relative, or a very close friend. Certainly one did not tease an employer. She must be more careful. No one knew better than she the consequences of becoming too familiar with a gentleman!

  * * *

  Each evening at dinner Maria and Reginald asked Zelah about her day at Rooks Tower. They were naturally interested in her progress, but even more concerned about the behaviour of her employer. Each time Zelah was able to reply with complete sincerity that she had not seen Major Coale. For the first few days after the incident on the tower roof she was relieved that they did not meet, but gradually his elusiveness began to frustrate her. She had many questions to ask him and was obliged to leave notes, asking where he wanted certain books and how he would like them arranged. His answer, via the butler or Mrs Graddon, was always the same, ‘The master says to do as you think best and he will discuss it with you later.’

  It was nearly two weeks before she saw Major Coale again. By that time she had removed all the books from their crates and was working on making a record of every title, bringing small piles of books to the large mahogany desk to list in one of the ledgers provided.

  It was a particularly sunny day and the room was uncomfortably warm, so Zelah had removed the fine muslin scarf from her shoulders and tossed it aside while she worked. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up, expecting to see Graddon or one of the footmen bringing refreshments, and she was taken by surprise when Major Coale strode in. He looked as if he had come direct from the stables; his hat was tucked under his arm and in one hand he carried his gloves and riding crop. His riding jacket hung open, displaying an embroidered waistcoat that fitted across his broad chest as snugly as the tight buckskins that covered his thighs. There was only the slightest drag on his right leg and his step was firm, brisk. He exuded energy.

  Nonplussed, Zelah reached for her scarf and quickly knotted it across her shoulders as she rose and came around the desk to greet him.

  His brows twitched together, the slight movement accentuating the ragged scar and deepening the unsmiling look into something resembling a scowl as they approached each other. Zelah tried not to feel intimidated.

  ‘Have you come to see how I progress?’ She summoned up a smile. ‘The rooms looks much better without all the boxes, I think.’ She waved her hand towards the bookshelves. ‘Of course, they are not yet in any great order, but this way it is easier to see just what books we have.’ She became more natural as she warmed to her theme. ‘I need you to tell me how you want them arranged. Are you happy to have sermons and music ranked alongside books on ratcatching, shoeing horses and draining bogs?’

  She observed a definite glint of humour in his eyes, albeit reluctant.

  ‘I doubt if that is how you would place them. I think the last three should be grouped with estate management.’

  ‘And your novels, Major? I thought to put them on these shelves, near your chair by the fire. They would be at hand then when you wish to sit in here and read.’

  ‘That seems a good idea. You are not using the tower room?’

  ‘No, not
at present.’

  The room held unsettling memories of the feelings he had roused in her. He tapped the riding crop against the palm of his hand as he glanced around the room, his expression unreadable.

  ‘I came to tell you that you will soon have more books arriving. A few months back I purchased the contents of Lydcombe Park Library. The books have been in storage with my man of business since the sale. They are in a number of large crates, too big for the pack ponies, but now the road is finished they can be brought here by wagon, as soon as I can spare the men to fetch them.’

  ‘Oh. Well then, it is a good thing I have not yet put everything in order.’ She bent an enquiring gaze upon him. ‘Are these useful books, sir, or might we find more classical texts in this consignment?’

  ‘I have no idea. I have never seen them.’

  ‘So we may well have more than one copy of some titles, sir.’

  ‘If that is the case then I shall leave it to you to decide which one to keep.’ His tone was cold, indifferent, and Zelah wondered if he was perhaps displeased with her way of working. She was framing the question in her mind when he reached out and flicked the edge of the muslin scarf. ‘If you covered up your charms for my benefit then you were wasting your time, Miss Pentewan. I have no interest in hired staff.’

  His words hit Zelah with the shock of cold water. She was rendered speechless, but thankfully she was not expected to respond. The major turned on his heel and marched out.

  Zelah retreated to the desk and sank down on the chair, shaking. He had seen her put the scarf about her, was that the reason for his brusque manner? Had he taken her action as an insult? She shook her head. It had been a defensive gesture to cover her bare neck and shoulders, because she did not want him to think she was flaunting herself. He had taken it as a personal slight, as if she thought he had designs upon her virtue. She could have laughed, if she had not been so angry. Slowly, with trembling hands, she began to pack up. She would do no more today.

  Chapter Five

  Zelah set off across the grass, heading for the woodland path that led directly to West Barton. She had not gone far before she heard the major calling her name. She stopped and turned to see him striding towards her.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home.’ She waited for him to come up to her.

  ‘It is still early.’

  She looked away from his hard, searching gaze.

  ‘I have done enough for today.’

  ‘You are angry with me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because I accused you of covering your...charms?’

  ‘It was uncalled for, uncivil and unnecessary.’ She added more quietly, ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’

  He was her employer, he could dismiss her if he objected to her comments, but she did not regret her words.

  ‘You are quite right. I was very rude. What can I do to make amends?’

  She did not hesitate.

  ‘I would like you to show a little more interest in your library. I have no idea if you are happy with my work so far, if it meets with your approval. You have not been near the library until today.’

  ‘On the contrary, I visit the library every evening.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Pentewan. I am taking a close interest in your progress, but I visited West Barton last week, to enquire after Nicky. Your brother-in-law considers your employment at Rooks Tower nothing short of scandalous. I thought by taking myself out of the house every day it would mitigate the impropriety.’

  ‘Some would still consider it improper if you were to take yourself out of the country while I am working for you! It is unfortunate that my brother-in-law does not approve but he understands my desire for independence. The fact that he has not thrown me out of the house shows he is prepared to put up with my “scandalous” behaviour, even if he cannot condone it.’ She had hoped he might smile at this, but when he did not she added impatiently, ‘For heaven’s sake, you have some rare books in your collection. Pine’s Horace, for example, and Hooke’s Micrographia.’ She exhaled through clenched teeth. ‘You have engaged me to work for you, Major, and I would much rather discuss matters directly with you than be forever passing messages via Mrs Graddon.’

  At last his forbidding frown was lightened. There was a glimmer of understanding in his hard eyes.

  ‘Very well, Miss Pentewan. I will make efforts to be available. Starting tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you. I will bid you good day, sir.’

  ‘You are still going?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I will walk with you.’ One side of his mouth quirked at her look of surprise. ‘I know what you are thinking: I am now taking too great an interest in my hired staff. You would like to throw my earlier comments in my face.’

  ‘I am not so impolite.’

  ‘Unlike me?’

  ‘Yes, I thought you impolite.’

  ‘Pray do not let yourself be constrained by your good breeding, Miss Pentewan. Rip up at me, if you wish, you have my permission!’

  A smile tugged at her mouth.

  ‘It would be no more than you deserve.’

  ‘I am aware of that. So let me make amends now by walking to the edge of my land with you.’

  She gave in, nodding her assent, and he fell into step beside her.

  ‘You walk this way every day?’

  ‘Yes. It is much the quickest route.’

  ‘Then you have seen the changes. I have cleared the paths and thinned out the trees—that was what I was doing when I first met you and Nicky in the woods.’

  She remembered her first sight of him. A bearded woodsman, his hair long and wild and with a fearsome axe at his side. It was a powerful image that remained with her, even if the major looked so much more civilised now.

  ‘You have done much of the work yourself, I think.’

  ‘Yes. I like to keep active.’

  ‘And it sets your people a good example.’

  ‘There is that, too.’

  They were walking through the woods now and Zelah could see the signs of clearance everywhere, but new growth was already appearing, bright splashes of green pushing up from the ground. The Major raised his hand to acknowledge a woman and her children coming through the trees. The woman dipped a slight curtsy, then she murmured a word to the children, who tugged at their forelocks.

  ‘You do not mind the villagers coming here to collect their firewood?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Once we have cut up the logs and taken them away they are welcome to anything that is left, although Phillips, my keeper, tells me there has been a marked increase in the number of people coming into the woods of late.’

  ‘The villagers no longer have access to Prickett Wood,’ explained Zelah. ‘Reginald tells me the new owner is going to fence it off. Do you know Sir Oswald?’

  ‘A nodding acquaintance only.’

  ‘But I thought his land borders your own.’

  ‘Not quite, so I have had no reason to make contact with Sir Oswald. I told you, I do not socialise, Miss Pentewan.’

  ‘Perhaps you should.’ She screwed up her courage. ‘People would soon grow accustomed to your...to your scars.’

  His short bark of laughter held more than a touch of bitterness.

  ‘I would be accused of frightening the children.’

  ‘No! Think of Nicky.’

  ‘A lonely child, desperate for company. When he is with his new school friends I doubt he will be as keen to acknowledge me.’

  ‘That is not true, he is proud to be acquainted with you.’

  ‘Kind words, ma’am, but I fear you know very little of human nature. But it is not just that.’ He paused, and, glancing up, she saw him gazing into the distance, as if looking into another world. ‘Spain was a very sobering experience for me, Miss Pentewan. There is no glory in war, in all the death and carnage that takes place, but I found the life infinitely preferable to what I had been
before—a rake, a fop, whose only interest was to wear a fashionable coat and flirt with all the prettiest women. That is what society expects of a gentleman, madam, and I want none of it now.’

  ‘But the people here are not fashionably idle, Major Coale. There are many good, hard-working men who want nothing more than to better themselves and their families.’

  ‘Then good luck to them, but they shall not do so on my coat-tails.’

  ‘That is not what I meant—’

  ‘Enough!’ They had reached the lane that separated Major Coale’s land from the gardens of West Barton. Dominic stopped. ‘I am a lost cause, Miss Pentewan. I will live my own life, in my own way. I have no wish to consort with my neighbours, and there’s an end to it.’ He looked up. ‘We part here.’

  She said impulsively, ‘Even so, there is no reason why you should not treat your wounds. There is a cream, a herbal remedy, it is excellent for softening the skin—’

  ‘I want none of your potions, madam!’

  ‘It is not a potion, but it might help.’

  ‘I hired you as my librarian, not my doctor.’ He glowered at her. ‘Do not push me too far.’

  The implacable look in his eyes told her she must accept defeat. For the moment. As a child she had accompanied her father when he visited his parishioners. They had met with pride and stubbornness many times, but her father’s message had always been the same. Where Zelah had been inclined to argue, he would stop her, saying gently, ‘Let the matter lie for now, but never give up.’ She therefore swallowed any retort and merely inclined her head.

  ‘Thank you, sir, for your company.’

  He bowed.

  ‘It was a pleasure. Until tomorrow.’

  It was only a step across the lane to the little wicket gate leading to the gardens, but when Zelah turned to latch the gate there was no sign of the major. He had disappeared back into the woods.

  * * *

  Zelah always enjoyed her days at Rooks Tower, but when she awoke the following morning she felt an added sense of anticipation. A blustery wind was blowing the grey clouds across the sky when she set out. It tugged at her skirts and threatened to whip away her bonnet. She arrived at last, windswept but exhilarated, and made her way through the darkened salon to the library. She looked around her with satisfaction. Most of the books were on the shelves now and in a rough order. She had dusted and cleaned each one, putting aside any that required repair. She was engaged in writing the details in the ledgers, in her neat copperplate hand, when the major came in.