“She doesn’t want to be alone with me. And I know why. She knows if I get her alone, I’ll kiss her, and she’ll stop her infernal thinking and respond like a normal woman for once. Well…” He froze and his eyes whipped to his sister.
“Well, indeed.” Kit smiled.
Heat rushed to his face and he shot a daggered glare at Brandon, whose eyes danced with laughter. He dropped onto the settee beside Kit and cradled his head in his hands. “Fine, go ahead. Laugh. I’m not deaf. I hear myself. I sound like the court jester, here to amuse your peasant husband.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “What you are my obtuse brother, is a man who has fallen in love but is too stupid to realize it. And you wouldn’t be the first.”
He lifted a brow. “So I’m stupid rather than the court jester?”
“You’re the fool,” Brandon said. “The one who wears the pointed dunce cap and sits in the corner.”
“Explain to me again why you married him?”
“It was a weak moment,” Kit said, brushing a lock of Garrett’s hair back.
“Warn me when you have another one. I—” He stopped cold, staring at Kit. “Wait a minute. I never said anything about falling in love. I was babbling—”
“About how painful it is to be madly in love with someone and not sure that your feelings are reciprocated,” Kit said. “I know the feeling, suffered it for years until Brandon came to his senses after I told him I was marrying Ned.”
“Well, I couldn’t let you make a misery of your life, now could I?” Brandon winked at Kit, who laughed.
“Maybe I should tell her I’m marrying Keyes’s daughter,” Garrett muttered bleakly. He stood and crossed the room to stare out the window. Kit’s words could not be ignored.
He had convinced himself marrying Alex was a practical decision because he wanted her like he wanted no other woman. She had awakened a part of him he had thought had died with so many others on the blood-soaked battlefield at Balaclava. He was scarred and broken, but she made him feel whole.
Kit was right.
He was madly, irrevocably in love with Alex.
He had started falling from the first moment she had opened her eyes and demanded her clothes. He had recognized her intelligence when she derided the London fops as supercilious imbeciles. He had admired her practicality when she agreed to their unusual collaboration. But he hadn’t known she was his until he kissed her. She had touched him as no other, and her response to him had sealed his fate.
She was perfect. And he was keeping her.
“And Garrett, whatever you’re doing, it is working,” Kit added.
Surprised, he turned to look at his sister.
“You’re playing to all her weaknesses,” she explained.
He frowned. “Considering I have no idea what they are, I’ll have to trust you on that. Perhaps if you enlightened me I can sharpen my tactics. Speed matters up.”
“Good point.” Brandon turned to his wife, his brows furrowed. “What are they?”
Kit tossed up her hands. “Children, you idiots. She adores the boys. Seeing you with them is enough to weaken any woman’s resolve. And she can’t stop looking at you, so you are doing something right.”
Children. He hadn’t considered that. It made sense. Alex wouldn’t get attached to a pricey gift when she had watched them all disappear to pay her father’s debt. But children, children were permanent. He had wanted children, but never considered he’d have any after his return from the Crimea. Now with Alex, things were different. By God, he’d give her a whole brood of them. His eyes strayed to Kit’s bulging belly, and he swallowed. Perhaps a few would do, for they did stick to you like burrs until they grew their own roots.
“You’re right.” He made to leave the room, when another thought gave him pause. He faced Kit as uncertainty filled him. “Do you think…do you think she loves me, too?’
“Oh, Garrett, how can she not?” Kit shoved herself to her feet, crossed the room and yanked his head down to kiss him on the cheek. “I do.”
He grinned. “I love you, too.”
“Don’t look at me,” Brandon drawled. “I only tolerate you because you’ve been useful in extricating me from a scrape or two.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Garrett said. “I’ll make you godfather to our firstborn. Don’t push him into the lake until after you teach him to swim.” He left the room, grinning as Brandon’s retort carried to him.
“What? No kiss for me? That was years ago! You need to get over it. And how was I to know you would sink like a rock?”
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Alex found herself walking beside Garrett to the barn. Her eyes drifted to him as he held Will in his arms and strolled with long, sure strides. He wore a blue tailored suit and his lethal smile, the one that wreaked havoc with her pulse rate. When those gray eyes fastened on her, she sought to convince herself that he was less dangerous than the seamstress who had arrived early that morning to tailor Kit’s gowns to Alex’s figure. She had suffered through the woman’s poking, prodding, and pinning for hours.
While the gowns were exquisite, Alex was wary of this plan’s success. More so, for the first time in a year, her fears weren’t for herself or her uncle’s reprisals. Her heart thundered as she thought of Garrett leaving the safety of the manor and stepping back into the killer’s path. Kit had promised to see about getting proper chaperonage and protection for him. However, after her loss at Hammond’s, Alex was hesitant to wager on the success of this venture when once again, the odds seemed stacked against them.
However, it was the best idea they had at the moment. Once the dresses were altered, they would return to town and wager on its success. Garrett had saved her from her debacle; she vowed to do the best she could to return the favor for him. She swallowed, refusing to contemplate the cost of failure.
Forcing her thoughts away from this dark cloud that hovered at the periphery of her mind, she turned to happier memories of the past few days.
She recalled Garrett’s attempts at seduction. The memory alone stirred her desire. He was clever. Like an expert craftsman, he whittled his way through all her defenses.
No surprise there, for the man had been a soldier, and he knew how to fight for what he wanted.
He wanted her.
She was under siege.
Worse, she wanted nothing more than to wave a white flag and surrender.
More disturbing thoughts.
Frowning, she sought another distraction and her eyes locked on Will, who had located Garrett’s pocket watch, the item having become a coveted toy. She watched his face screw up while he worked to snap open its cover. Beaming in delight when he triumphed, he showed Garrett his success, snapped the cover closed, and worked to open it again. Each triumph brought that look of pure, childish pleasure to his face.
Alex wondered if anyone had ever praised Garrett’s childish triumphs. He’d had his father for the first six years, but six was still a baby. At least he hadn’t been alone. He’d had Kit, and then Brandon. The thought gave her comfort and she smiled. “Kit said she was your shadow when you were young?”
Garrett glanced over at her and grinned. “Only until I brought Brandon home. Then she only had eyes for him. No loyalty.” He shook his head. “I remember when Brandon first met her. She had run away from home and had succeeded in disappearing for a few hours until we tracked her down.”
“She must have had a good hiding place. Wherever did you find her?”
“Up a tree,” he said, laughing at her expression.
“Did you climb up after her?”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered. “The branch holding her couldn’t support both our weight, so it snapped and down we tumbled. Damned near broke my neck.”
She covered her mouth to hide her smile. “But you were both all right?”
“Brandon caught Kit, which started her tailspin into starry-eyed hero worship. One of these days, she’s going to wake up and realize it was the shock of the f
all that addled her wits for all these years.”
“A man can dream,” she said. “And you? Were you all right?”
He shrugged. “The break healed after two months of being trussed up like a turkey, but my left arm still doesn’t bend all the way. Perhaps you can look at it later? You did such a fine job with my scratch.”
“It’s a little late for bandaging.”
“Who said anything about bandaging? I was hoping you’d kiss it and make it better.”
“And shock poor Will here?”
“You’re right.” His eyes locked with hers. “Our kisses are combustible. We’ll wait for Beau to chaperone us. With his thick hide, he’d get singed, but I doubt he’d burn.”
Seeing the teasing gleam in his eyes, she laughed.
A gentle breeze brushed over her, and she lifted her hand to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. She had forgotten her bonnet on the bench in the garden, so instead of a hat, along with her sun-warmed cheeks, she wore a pink rose that Garrett had plucked from the garden and tucked behind her ear. The gift touched her as no priceless gem ever could. It was far better than his earlier offer of a horse. She smiled, the rose and her present company lightening her troubled thoughts and her heart.
Nearing the barn and excited to see the kittens, Will squirmed for release. In his distraction, he lost his grip on Garrett’s pocket watch, and it tumbled to the ground.
Alex bent to retrieve it. When she picked it up, she noticed an engraving on the back cover. To Arthur, love Garrett. She caught her breath and looked to Garrett, who was watching Will toddle toward the barn.
When his attention returned to her, his smile froze. “What is it?” His gaze dropped to her hand and his mouth pressed into a firm line. He removed the watch from her grasp and casually returned it to his jacket pocket. “Shall we catch up with Will?”
She fell into step beside him, struggling to hold her silence and respect his privacy.
The hell with it.
“I understand it’s none of my business, but I was curious as to why you carry around a watch that is a gift from yourself to your stepfather. Did he return it to you?”
“No. I won it from the footman in a game of cards. As you know, I’m good at cards.” He winked at her. “I had purchased it with my last winnings.”
She shook her head, baffled. “And the footman, did he win it from your stepfather in a game of cards?” She tried to match his light tone, well aware she ventured onto dodgy ground.
“No. I believe it was given to him as thanks for polishing a pair of boots.”
Alex stopped. “Garrett?” He paused at her rare use of his name. “Why do you carry this watch around with you like a treasured keepsake?”
Garrett cocked an eyebrow. “Treasured keepsake? No. It’s a reminder.”
She tossed up her hands. “What can it possibly remind you of that it warrants a special place on your person when it didn’t merit any consideration by the very person to whom it was gifted? He couldn’t even deign to keep it!”
“That’s exactly what it is a reminder of.” His voice became cold and his eyes hard. “That my stepfather is an ass, and I was an idiot to think otherwise.” He located Will and watched as Gus emerged from the barn to collect the boy. He waited until they had disappeared inside before he spoke again. “It took me months to save up to buy that bloody watch. Months! I fought to master the cards. At first I lost more than I ever won, including the shirt off my back, for I was too young to be playing, was but a few years older than Beau is now. But I did it. I learned so well that it ceased to matter that no one remembered to send my allowance to school. To remember me, period. I didn’t need it or them.
“But I shouldn’t have had to learn. I shouldn’t have had to buy anyone’s favors, especially those of a cold-hearted bastard whose affections should have been freely given. He was my stepfather, but I was never his son. I was nothing to him. This bloody watch reminds me of what kind of man Arthur Brown is. It was a hard lesson to learn, but you can be damn sure I’ll never forget it.” He spun away from her and stormed into the barn, not looking back.
Alex wrapped her arms around her waist. She yearned to turn back time and gather that brave, lost little boy into her arms. A parent’s rejection digs deep wounds, and she had just poured salt over Garrett’s. She should have left it alone.
She ached to steal that damn watch and pulverize it with the heel of her boot. Half of her understood Garrett’s reasons for keeping it, the other half viewed it as more salt being crushed into raw heartbreak. She remembered the scar traversing Garrett’s abdomen and wondered how many blows a man could sustain before he broke. Garrett believed himself broken, but he was not.
He was a survivor.
She lifted a hand to shade her eyes, seeing Gus emerge from the barn. She met him outside.
“That Beau, he’s got the makings of a top rider,” Gus boasted, thrusting out his belly as he hooked his thumbs in his trousers.
Smiling, Alex looped her arm through his as they walked. “Under your tutelage he can’t be anything but. Look at me.”
Gus snorted and tipped his head toward the barn. “The captain has a fine seat as well. Handles the reins like he was born to them. Then again, he’s a take-charge sort of bloke. Look what he has done in the hops fields. Blimey, I ain’t seen nothin’ like it.” His bark of a voice softened. “He’s a decent bloke, your captain.”
Alex opened her mouth to protest his use of the possessive before Captain, but then closed it. He only stated what her heart already knew. Garrett wasn’t hers, but she wished it otherwise.
Garrett was a decent bloke, and she was head-over-heels in love with him.
Despite her valiant attempts to draft a growing list of Garrett’s faults, she had worked in vain. She had dismissed Garrett as a philandering rake, with his mistress and dispensable women. She had believed him a gambler who had stolen her fortune, another member of the spoiled aristocracy who cared little for the welfare of others.
She had wanted to believe these things of Garrett because it made him into a man like her father, a man whom she could not respect. More important, one she could dismiss and forget. Garrett used his watch to remind him that his stepfather was not the man he wished him to be, and she had drafted her list to protect herself from seeing Garrett for the man he was. This had enabled her to ignore the inexorable tug of her heart toward this brave, wounded, enigmatic man. She blinked at the moisture filming her eyes. She had been a fool and a coward, but no more.
It was time to lift that white flag and surrender.
She lifted her face to the afternoon sun. She may not have forever with him, but she could enjoy today. She remembered Garrett’s words about dealing with his nightmares.
Let it be enough for now.
She turned to smile at Gus. “Yes, he is a decent bloke, and so are you.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
Chapter Twenty-three
AFTER checking on Will with the kittens, Garrett went to locate Beau. He found his nephew set up in an empty stall beside his pony. Beau had cleared the straw from a space on the ground and lined up a battalion of his toy soldiers. Kneeling before them, Beau recited aloud.
“Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them. Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell.”
A roaring exploded in Garrett’s head, and he lifted his hand to grip the stall’s railing.
He’d be all right. He just needed a minute.
He closed his eyes against the images assaulting him, giving his head a hard shake to shrug them loose.
He had been caught off guard. Alex’s questions about Arthur’s bloody watch had thrown him off balance.
Arthur and now this.
Bloody hell. The walls of the barn were closing in on him. He needed air. He shoved away from the stall and staggered out the back exit, trying to put distance between himself and the darkness reaching for him. He had come so far. He would
not retreat.
He drew a deep breath and released it, recalling another veteran’s advice on the calming effects of doing so. The roaring in his ears receded, and he lifted his eyes to drink in his surroundings. The warmth of the breeze and what remained of the afternoon’s waning light soothed him.
His breathing regulated.
He felt his shoulders loosen, and his tension gradually eased.
ALEX LOCATED WILL with the kittens and Beau with his soldiers, but no Garrett. She turned to Gus, who shrugged at her unspoken question. She moved to join Beau but froze when fragments of Tennyson’s poem drifted to her.
“They that had fought so well came through the jaws of Death, back from the mouth of Hell.”
Had Garrett heard?
She spun around, a sense of urgency propelling her search. Finding the last stall empty, she stepped outside and shaded her eyes to scan the paddocks. Garrett stood at the farthest end of the field. His hands were thrust into his trouser pockets, his head tipped back, and the wind combed through his hair. He looked so alone, like the lost boy he had once been, and her heart pinched at the sight.
She hurried toward him but stopped a few yards away, unsure of her approach. Unsure of him. “Garrett?”
“Did you know Lord Raglan had never commanded men in battle?” He spoke with his back to her.
Lord Raglan was the commander of the British army in the Crimea. “No, I didn’t.”
He turned to her. “He saw action, serving as an aide to Wellington for forty years, but he never commanded men in battle. Most of the officers in the Crimea had no battle experience or training. They knew nothing of military tactics, strategy, or organization. When Raglan landed in the Crimea, he didn’t even own a map of the peninsula.” He paused and his gaze roamed over the horses grazing inside the fence.
Alex stepped closer as he continued speaking. His voice was quiet.
“There were more qualified men to lead, career soldiers who had served in India, but they weren’t given command because they weren’t of aristocratic birth.” His attention returned to her and his smile was like his words, bitter and rueful. “The English aristocracy believe bravery and chivalry are the only qualities needed to lead men in battle. Through our blood, our noble birth, we possess the innate ability to command.”
For the Love of a Soldier Page 23
