by Cheryl Holt
If he hadn’t been studying her so carefully, he wouldn’t have observed her nod. She was livid with Amelia, and it occurred to him that he was the worst dunce ever. He was a renowned horse trainer because he was shrewd and astute, attuned to every detail.
Apparently, he only possessed the knack when dealing with animals, for he certainly hadn’t employed his acumen when dealing with one little girl. She was so distressed that she’d risked everything to flee from all of them. If Amelia hadn’t informed him she was missing, would he ever have noticed?
“You’re incensed at Miss Boyle,” he said. “I understand that. She’s pretty and kind, and she watched over you. I don’t imagine you’ve had many women like her in your life.”
No, not any…she seemed to reply.
“It had to be frustrating to have her flit off like that. She didn’t even tell me goodbye. I came for supper, and she simply wasn’t there anymore. I had to find out about it in a note.”
She nodded again.
“But she couldn’t remain with us, Laura. She had to rent her own house so she’s ready to welcome her brother. I like her as much as you do, but we can’t force her to behave as we wish she would. She’s too independent, and she’s not part of us.”
Tears welled into her eyes, and he reached out and clasped her tiny hand in his.
“Don’t you dare cry,” he firmly stated. “It makes me want to cry too, and I’m much too manly.”
Instantly, the tears vanished, and she was able to hide her misery. What must have happened to her over the years that she would be so anguished? With Brinley in charge of her, it might have been any sort of peril.
“Let’s go,” he told her. “It will be dark by the time we’re home, and I have to get back.”
She blanched, her aversion to returning to Gibraltar blatant and exasperating.
“You can’t stay here by yourself.”
She glared up at him, her woe excruciating to witness.
“Is it just Brinley you can’t bear to live with? Is it me too?”
His mind whirred as he tried to devise a solution that would calm her, that would reduce her fears, that might even produce a smile. It took forever, but the answer—when it dawned on him—was so obvious.
“Would you like to stay with Miss Boyle? Would that be better?”
A shudder passed through her, as if she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to figure it out.
He couldn’t predict what Amelia would think of the notion. She probably should have taken Laura with her in the first place, but she hadn’t had the authority to take her. Anyway, Laura and Brinley were departing in two weeks, so any assistance she supplied would be for a very short period.
Laura needed some attention and nurturing, and Amelia was the perfect person to provide it. Victoria too. They’d settle her down.
“I’ll talk to Miss Boyle,” he said, “and I’ll persuade her. I promise I will, but you have to promise you won’t run away again. The horses aren’t mine, so you can’t simply ride off on one of them. And I can’t chase after you ever again. You got me in so much trouble.”
She winced with dismay.
“You hadn’t considered that, had you?”
No. She flushed with shame.
“Well, you should consider it—long and hard. Now we have to head out.”
He pulled her to her feet, walked her over to her mare, and tossed her up on the animal. As he mounted his own horse and raced off toward Gibraltar, she cantered after him like the most obedient child in the world.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was another hot night, and Amelia had left her shutters open, hoping the sea breeze would waft in and cool her heated skin. She also hoped James would sneak in, that he’d be as anxious to discuss the day’s events as she was.
When he finally arrived, he didn’t have to knock. He simply climbed over the sill and scooped her into his arms, delivering a tight hug that she’d been desperate to receive.
He’d brought Laura home, and he’d asked Amelia to let the girl stay with her. He’d whispered that it would be for two weeks, just until Laura and Brinley sailed to England. Amelia couldn’t refuse, but she suspected Laura would remain much longer than the paltry two weeks James presumed it would be.
He believed Brinley would head off as he’d commanded, but Amelia had spent much more time around his sister than he had. She doubted Brinley would heed any order her brother leveled.
She couldn’t predict when or how Brinley would leave Gibraltar or where she would go once she’d had enough of tormenting her brother. She wasn’t a fool or a dunce. In reality, she was very, very smart. She would have a plan in the works, so what would it be?
Whatever it was, Amelia didn’t suppose Laura would be included. Amelia was surprised Brinley hadn’t abandoned Laura in England and was sure—as she flitted off from Gibraltar—Laura wouldn’t accompany her.
Perhaps it had been Brinley’s aim all along to dump Laura on James. After all, the sisters had previously resided with James’s brother, Robert. Perhaps Brinley thought James would fill the void created by Robert’s early demise. But James had no intention of assuming responsibility for a child who wasn’t even a relative.
As he’d explained to Amelia, he was transferring to India, and there was no place in that scenario for Laura. It meant Laura would be Amelia’s problem, and she hadn’t decided how she felt about it. She’d been worried about Laura living with Brinley, and those worries had evaporated. Amelia would take care of her. Amelia would raise her.
She’d travelled to Gibraltar to reconnect with her brother, and very quickly, she’d adopted a pair of orphans: Victoria and Laura. She couldn’t guess when she’d be shed of either of them, and for the moment, she was happy with the situation.
Would her generous deed turn out to be worth it? With James having crept in, she wouldn’t waste energy debating the question.
She recalled Victoria’s warning—that sounds carried—so she drew away from him and pulled the shutters closed.
He grabbed her and tumbled them onto the bed. They were acting a tad deranged, and they giggled like naughty schoolchildren. She liked seeing him when he was merry, when he was misbehaving. He looked younger, less driven and more content.
He rolled on top of her and kissed her thoroughly. She joined in with an incredible amount of enthusiasm. She was so glad he’d come! If he hadn’t, she might have dashed over to his house, alone in the dark. She was that keen to be with him.
“What an awful day,” he murmured as he snuggled her to his side.
“Thank you for finding her.”
“Were you able to get her settled without too much effort?”
“We made a bed for her in Victoria’s room. After we had her fed and washed, she drifted off immediately.”
Victoria had suggested Laura sleep in her bedchamber. She’d reminded Amelia that they were both guests, but burdens too. Amelia didn’t view them that way, but Victoria had been adamant that she and Laura would share.
Amelia hadn’t argued. Once Evan arrived, they’d all be shifting around, but for now, they had space for one small, very unobtrusive girl.
“Did she tell you why she left?” he asked.
“No, but then, she wouldn’t.”
“I received the distinct impression she was angry at you.”
“Yes, I know. When she learned I was moving to the cottage, she was furious.”
“It has to be hard for her, living with Brinley.”
It was risky to tiptoe out on the ledge of the Hastings’s tangle, but she blustered forward.
“What will become of them, James? You insist they’re returning to England. What then?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can you truly expect Brinley to depart as you’ve demanded?”
“If she doesn’t, she’s aware that I will drag her bodily onto the ship.”
“How will she support herself w
hen she’s home?”
“I have no idea about that either. I’m merely certain she can’t remain in Gibraltar.”
“What about Laura? She’ll never be safe with Brinley. From how she never speaks, it’s obvious she’s been traumatized.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’re succeeding, but what can I do?”
“You could go with them. You could build a family with them. All of you seem so disconnected. Maybe you should alter that situation.”
He scoffed. “It’s not happening.”
“I realize it’s not. I just couldn’t resist nagging about it.”
“Could you imagine Brinley and me, residing under the same roof? The only way I can currently tolerate it is that I never see her. If we were together constantly, we’d murder each other before the first month was over.”
Amelia chuckled. “I don’t want you committing murder.”
“I’m leaving for India soon anyway. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” she glumly responded.
They were quiet for a few minutes, and she used the interval to recollect what her life had been like prior to her meeting him, what it would be like after he vanished. He was like a comet that had streaked across her sky. He lightened her world, and naught would be the same without him in it.
When her mother had passed away, Amelia had discovered she didn’t deal with grief very well and wasn’t adept at managing on her own. Luckily, she had Victoria and Laura in the house with her, so when he sailed away, she wouldn’t be strolling through empty rooms with the silence driving her mad.
“If you changed your mind about them,” she asked, “could you support them? Would you be able to financially?”
“I’m in the army, Amelia. I live on a captain’s salary, and Brinley carries on like royalty. I could never supply the money she believes is her due.”
“I don’t suppose I ought to mention Denby Manor or the earldom. You’re not quite the pauper you pretend to be.”
“No, you shouldn’t mention my Denby inheritance, and besides, the property is bankrupt. My cousins ran it into the ground before they died, so they bequeathed me a pile of bills, a decrepit farm, a crumbling mansion, and no funds to repair any of it.”
He looked so aggravated that she laughed and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised the subject.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, and could we talk about a topic other than Brinley? I’m so vexed—by her and Laura—that I can’t think straight.”
“I’m feeling more sympathetic toward you these days. At our initial meeting, I thought you were being an ogre about Brinley. But I’m much clearer on the type of person she is, so I’ve decided you’re only half an ogre.”
“Only half?”
“Yes.”
He snorted with amusement, and they shared a poignant stare. It was filled with yearning they couldn’t utter aloud. They’d developed such an intense fondness, but were both determined their affection not lead anywhere. When they were so resolute, there was no point in voicing strong sentiment.
He closed the distance between them and kissed her again. It started sweetly, chastely, but their attraction was too potent. It rapidly grew into an inferno. When he was touching her, when his crafty hands roamed over her torso, it was difficult to recall that caution was necessary.
Because it was the middle of the night, she was wearing just her nightgown. Gradually, he was tugging up the hem, baring her knees, then her thighs. As his cunning fingers reached her private parts, she was riveted, but alarmed too.
With great effort, she pulled away from him. He was so absorbed in their misbehavior that he didn’t immediately notice she’d stopped participating.
He scowled. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this with you. Kissing I can handle. Kissing I like. But the other…”
She didn’t have the vocabulary to discuss what he hoped to attempt.
They were perched on the edge of a flagrant transgression, and her anatomy was screaming at her to let him proceed, but she didn’t dare.
According to Victoria, he frequently trifled with young ladies, and while she’d convinced herself that he liked her more than others who had tantalized him, she doubted he viewed her differently from them. If they continued on, there was one acceptable conclusion and that was marriage.
He didn’t want it, and she definitely didn’t want it, so what exactly were they trying to achieve?
“It’s just physical conduct,” he told her.
“Conduct that has to pitch us into marriage. Are you ready to wed me? Is that where we are?”
“What if I insisted I was ready? What if I’m tired of being a bachelor?”
In light of his aversion to matrimony, it was a bizarre statement. He frowned—as if he couldn’t figure out how the words had slipped out.
As to herself, evidently she was silly as a debutante. On hearing that he might be willing to tie the knot, she was practically giddy with anticipation. Would he? Should she? Would it work out? Would it be splendid?
But sanity returned with a vengeance.
“If you claimed you would wed me,” she said, “I’d call you a liar.”
“That’s a tad harsh.”
“Probably, so I’ll amend my remark. You’re a classic scoundrel. You’re coercing me into a grave moral lapse with promises you would never honor.”
“Maybe.”
He flopped onto his back, and he gazed at the ceiling, an arm thrown over his eyes. She snuggled next to him, studying him, curious as to what his next comment would be. If he accused her of being a terrible tease, she could hardly deny it. He kept climbing in her window, and she kept letting him in.
What was she doing? What was he doing?
After a bit, it occurred to her that he’d fallen asleep, and at his blatant fatigue, she suffered a wave of emotion that had to border on love. Wasn’t it love? What else could ignite such powerful feelings?
She always forgot that he never felt very well, that he hadn’t fully recovered from his wounds. That sort of sustained injury sapped a person’s strength and energy. Despite his exhaustion, he’d spent many hours in the saddle, searching for Laura. Apparently, the stress of it had worn him down to nothing.
She nestled with him, listening to him breathe, watching him as he slumbered so deeply. She reveled in the smell of him, in the heat of him. It was the most precious experience of her life, and she couldn’t imagine how dull her existence would be when he finally left forever.
She wondered if she’d ever see him again. Years in the future, when they were older, he’d return from India. Might she walk down the street in London someday and bump into him? Would they still be fond? Would they smile and remember the heady weeks in Gibraltar where they’d engaged in their passionate fling?
She tried to stay awake so she could rouse him before dawn and push him out the window, but eventually, she dozed off too. When she opened her eyes, it was morning, the birds gaily chirping, the sun high in the sky.
He’d sneaked away. She realized it before she glanced over. He’d saved her from herself, had saved her from having to confess her latest sin to Victoria.
And…?
She was so disappointed to find him gone, which proved she was deranged.
* * * *
By the time Brinley strolled into the dining room in James’s rented house, it was the middle of the afternoon. He was sitting at the table, waiting for her to drag her sorry self out of bed. He’d hired a cook and a housemaid to tend her, so he’d had them serve breakfast, but they weren’t overly competent, and the food was awful.
She was a hard taskmaster too, and if she chased them off, she’d be on her own. He wouldn’t replace them.
She wasn’t dressed yet, but was still in her nightgown and robe. She seemed to be hung over. Was she? On top of all her other problems, she had an affinity for alcohol, so he wouldn’t be surprised.
“James? What are you doing here?” Her voice was rough and ragged. “Don’t you have a horse to train or something?”
She was such a snot and—whenever they interacted—he wanted to whack her on the side of the head and tell her to mind her manners.
“I found Laura for you,” he said.
“Was she missing?”
There was a meager buffet on the sideboard: cold ham, dry bread, stale muffins, a pot of tea that was no longer hot. She staggered over and poured herself some tea, then she slid into the chair across from him.
“Don’t pretend to be unaware that she’d disappeared,” he scolded. “I’m not in the mood to play any word games with you.”
Brinley shrugged. “You didn’t have to hunt for her. She runs off, but she always comes back.”
“Miss Boyle told me you hadn’t seen her in four days.”
“I suppose that’s about right.”
“You weren’t worried?”
“No.”
He stared her down, and she was a tough adversary. Any other female would have been cowed by his stern glare, but not her.
“Are you curious where she is?” he asked.
“Not really, but from your sour expression, I imagine you’re about to tell me.”
“She’s with Miss Boyle at her cottage. She’s staying there for now.”
“Fine. That’s less trouble for me. It’s aggravating, having to watch her every second.”
“Yes, she’s such a difficult child.”
His comment was sarcastic, but she didn’t notice.
She downed her tea, then lurched over to the sideboard and filled a plate. She dug into her food with considerable relish, and she deftly ignored him, her disrespect annoying and impertinent.
“You’re sailing for London in two weeks,” he said.
She peered at him, their visual battle fierce, then she replied, “Probably.”
