Secondly, Tavis had taken to treating her more like a soldier in the army than like his affianced bride, a fact that particularly rankled with her. For over four days and nights they had ridden north, barely stopping to eat and sleep. When they did finally quit for the day, was it ever to enter one of those quaint little villages she had seen that looked like it boasted an inn with hot food and a bed softer than a slab of granite?
“I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been eating cold biscuits and cheese and sleeping on a bedroll out under the stars.” She shot a murderous glance at Tavis, who was, as usual, riding several lengths in front of her. “Cold and alone,” she gritted out.
“And your conversation, Mr. McGuire,” Amelia continued in a high sing-song voice while batting her eyelashes. “So sparing with your words. So terse in your commands.” She waved her hands in front of her face as though she were near to swooning. “Why, I positively went loose in the knees last night when you grunted at me to quit my yapping and go to sleep.” That made her smile, and she thought wickedly on how that little altercation ended when she had refused to stop talking.
“What are you grinning at?” Tavis asked, startling her out of her thoughts. Somewhere during her musings he had slowed his mount and now was trotting next to her.
“How’s your hand?” she asked, unable to resist poking fun at him, especially when all day he had been treating her like she had the plague.
He flexed his right hand and glowered at Amelia, who was doing her best not to laugh out loud. “It hurts like the devil, you wee hellion.”
At Tavis’s outraged expression, she gave up and laughed loud and long for the first time in days. “You big bully. Serves you right.”
“Weren’t you ever taught any manners?” he wondered in exasperation. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s very unladylike to bite someone?”
“I must have been sick the day my governess was reviewing that particular lesson.” She thought he would ride ahead again and leave her alone to stew by herself, but this time he stayed.
“Besides,” she added, unable to resist adding her own jab at his expense, “I didn’t see evidence of your gentlemanly behavior when you tossed me around like a sack of flour and clamped your hand over my mouth so I would ‘stop my yapping.’ ”
There was an awkward silence next to her, and when she peeked over at Tavis, his entire face had gone alarmingly red, and there was a tiny tic jumping in his jaw.
“I wonder, are you embarrassed because I called attention to your lack of manners toward me during our journey, or are you simply resisting the urge to throttle me?”
When he uttered a short bark of laughter, she jumped in surprise and offered him a rueful smile, remembering she had become accustomed to speaking her unfiltered thoughts aloud. She flushed red herself and thanked God silently that Tavis hadn’t been around to hear her earlier rant about him.
“Both,” he admitted. She watched him pull his collar away from his neck.
“You do that a lot,” she observed.
When he looked at her in blank confusion, she continued, “Pull on your collar, I mean.” She demonstrated by pulling the neck of her own bodice away from her skin, grimacing in as near an imitation as she could of the tight face he made while he did it. “It makes you look nervous and jumpy.”
Tavis muttered something under his breath, and he started to pull at his collar again, only to stop when he realized what he was doing. “It’s my solicitor. He always does it when he’s nervous.” He let out a loud sigh. “It seems I have adopted his habit for myself.”
“Does that mean I make you nervous?”
He avoided looking at her, and she wondered if he would even answer. Then he noticeably straightened in his saddle and gestured off into the distance. If Amelia squinted, she could make out the shape of a small hut nestled amidst a grove of trees.
“Up ahead is where we’ll rest tonight. It’s been abandoned for years, but the last time I was through here it still had all four walls, a solid roof, and a working fireplace.”
Amelia yawned, the fatigue from their long journey catching up to her. She looked at the small, rundown crofter’s hut through hungry eyes.
“An actual house? Does it have a bed, too?” she whipped her head around to look at him in eager anticipation. He coughed and pulled his collar away from his neck again.
“Are you ill, Tavis? You’ve got that look again.”
“No, just something stuck in my throat.” He thumped his chest and coughed again, giving her a weak smile.
She narrowed her eyes, not believing his overdramatic cough, but soon ignored him in favor of studying her surroundings. Though the journey had been rough, Amelia had to admit she enjoyed watching the ever-changing scenery. From the urban streets of London, across the rolling plains of England, to the rugged landscape where they now rested, she had been enchanted by the sprawling vistas and the wild beauty all around her. She breathed in the fresh, woodsy air from the nearby forest and was content.
“Where are we now, Tavis?” she asked, her curiosity aroused by the imposing peaks towering above them.
He hesitated for a moment. “A half day’s ride to Gretna Green.”
Amelia resisted the urge to pepper him with more questions. He had been tight-lipped about their final destination the entire way, so hearing they were so close to Gretna Green made her lightheaded.
By tomorrow evening I will be a bride.
Suddenly the events of the last four days caught up to her in a rush, and it was all she could do to tamp down her rising panic as he continued talking.
“I’ll prepare us our dinner, once I’ve arrived at the hut, and wait for you within.” He flashed her that lopsided smile of his, the one she had seen a lifetime ago in her father’s stable, and with a mock salute, he rode ahead with the other horses, leaving her to follow behind.
Amelia, once again left alone with her thoughts, was powerless to stop her mind from revisiting her list of things that had gone wrong since leaving her home. Strangely enough, hearing they were so close to Gretna Green did little to ease her anxieties about Tavis and this whole situation. While it was true she had been most anxious to be wed to him, there were other concerns overshadowing the immediacy of needing to be married. She nibbled on her lower lip and fretted to herself as she watched him ride on ahead of her, leading a string of horses behind him. Because in spite of the hectic pace and the uncertainty of her future, one other thing remained crystal clear. Tavis McGuire was a horse thief.
Four nights ago, she had seen him leading a string of horses from her father’s stables and knew in that instant that her suspicions about him had been correct all along. He was a horse thief and had been planning all evening on stealing her father’s horses. Amelia had been torn, in that moment, as to what to do. If she had gone back inside, her father’s horses would have been saved but Tavis would probably have hanged. Running away with him meant betraying her family’s trust by aiding a thief. No matter how she looked at it, someone was going to be hurt.
Then he had turned to her and asked in a low urgent whisper, “Do you trust me?” It was the last thing she expected to hear from him. She had been hoping for an explanation of what she was seeing, at the very least, or perhaps an idea of what his plans were for them, but he had asked her if she trusted him. Twice.
He had looked vulnerable in that moment, sitting beside her on his horse and asking that question. Amelia was helpless to deny him any reassurance she could give. Knowing somehow her fate and this man’s were tied together, Amelia made her decision. Offering him her hand, she laced their fingers together and nodded, “Yes, Tavis, with my life.”
He had kissed her, a quick brush of the lips across her mouth in silent thanks, and the two had ridden off into the waning night.
Now, four days later, Amelia wondered not for the first time if she had been too rash in her decision to leave with Tavis, especially in light of his recent treatment of her. He had not been acting like a fi
ancé should, though she had no previous knowledge to compare his actions to. “But one would think a fiancé would show more tender concern for his betrothed than what Tavis has shown me. Idiotic, hare-brained man,” she muttered. “What does he think he’s about, stealing my father’s horses and trifling with my emotions?” She wanted to know who Tavis McGuire really was. On first impression, she found him to be a thoughtful and courteous gentleman. He had charmed her when they met, with his reverent words of praise and courtly charm, leading her about in a magical moonlit dance. She hugged those memories to her late at night as she tried to sleep on the cold, hard ground across the fire from him.
Other times, though, he was aloof and commanding, like last night when he had barked at her to be quiet and go to sleep when she had wanted to share in his company. She couldn’t quite make out his character, which was frustrating, as they were soon to be man and wife. She missed the easy camaraderie they had shared within the comforting embrace of the cozy stables.
Something else is missing, too. Amelia blew out a frustrated breath. There were no more “almost” kisses or longing looks that made her toes curl and her skin steam. In that respect, he remained every bit a gentleman. On more than one occasion she had made it clear she would gladly accept more intimacies. Despite the ample opportunities she had given him to defile her person, blast the man, he hadn’t. He was always polite, if not a touch cool.
“He must be a man of very firm morals, or at the very least not experienced with women.”
Legacy’s Daughter nickered beneath her as she ambled to another area of tender grass. Amelia held the reins in her lap and reminded herself why she had run off with him in spite of her worries.
Had Tavis been a common thief, he wouldn’t have given her a chance to change her mind about running away with him. But he did offer that possibility when he asked if she trusted him. She knew if she had objected to the horse stealing and had insisted on remaining with her parents, he would not have stopped her even though it surely would have meant the gallows. But when Tavis took those horses, he must have had a good reason to do so.
“That still doesn’t mean he doesn’t owe me an explanation, girl,” Amelia whispered into the soft hair of her horse’s neck.
Having arrived at the small crofter’s cottage, she dismounted and looked around. Tavis’s massive horse was hobbled at the side of the cottage along with the other horses. Taking Legacy’s Daughter by the reins, she led her horse to the side of the hut. Seeing the other horses, the mare nickered and nudged Amelia with her nose.
“All right. I’ll get on with it.” Amelia smiled at her horse and removed the saddle. She rubbed her down with tufts of soft grass and then tied her next to the others already hobbled and enjoying the plentiful spring shoots found near the hut.
Tavis had been busy inside. Already a fire was crackling in the fireplace and what looked like a rabbit was roasting on a spit, filling the interior of the hut with its mouthwatering aroma. Several small candles were scattered about the room, shedding a comforting light into the dreary corners.
He had done his best to set the table with an oddly shaped cloth that looked to be an old yet clean undershirt or perhaps a handkerchief. From out of his pack bag, he pulled a wedge of cheese and a loaf of bread and placed them on the table. Her stomach growled, reminding Amelia how long ago breakfast had been.
“Here.” He broke off some bread and handed it to her. She snatched it up and devoured it, watching him as he tended the fire and turned the spit with the roasting meat.
“I want to apologize for how hard I’ve been riding you these last couple of days,” he said and then paled once he realized what he had said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, Jesus! I mean, how hard we’ve been riding,” he amended.
She watched in amazement as his face flushed a deep red. “Christ, that’s not what I meant either,” he blurted out. Running his hands through his hair, he let out a deep breath. “I’m just sorry, Amelia.”
He looked so miserable that even though she really wanted to see him squirm, she took pity on him. “Thank you.” It would serve him right if I did make him work a little harder for my forgiveness. But once she saw his shoulders relax, she knew she had done the right thing. In spite of how angry he made her, it wasn’t in her to be vengeful.
Besides, she reasoned, the way he kept insulting her, she would have plenty of practice forgiving him. She hid a smile while biting into her chunk of bread as she thought of all the ways he had misstepped with her over the last several days. It was impossible for her to understand how she had mistaken his earlier behavior with her for the courtly charm of a sophisticated gentleman, when he clearly was quite clueless about how to deal with women.
Tavis pulled the meat off the spit and served Amelia and himself. Once he was seated and they were eating, she decided to find out if what she suspected was true. “Do you come from a large family, Tavis? Many brothers and sisters?”
“No, not really. My mother died when I was a month old, and my Aunt Millie raised me until I was sent to school at eight.”
“Eight? Isn’t that a bit young to be sent away from home?”
“Is it?” He paused mid-bite to consider her question. “I guess I thought all boys were sent off to school at such an age. Surely there must have been one or two boys at school who were as young as I was.”
She didn’t like the frown that had appeared to mar his handsome features. Offering him a tentative smile, she rushed to concur. “I’m sure you are right. I only thought, well, if I were to ever have children…” She looked down at the table in embarrassment to avoid meeting his eyes. “That is, if we were ever to have children, I wouldn’t want them to be sent away from home so early.”
She waited in awkward silence for him to say something, but all she heard was the quiet crackling of the fire. Eventually, he cleared his throat, and she persuaded herself to peek up at him from underneath her lashes. Seeing he was at least as disconcerted as she was, if not more, she gave him a shy smile and asked, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
He took a deep swallow of wine before he answered. “Yes, I imagine so. I had never given it consideration before, but I suppose that’s because after my mother’s death my father never wanted me around. Obviously your feelings and needs would have to be taken into consideration as well.” He grimaced, and she had to stifle an amused giggle when she saw his hand move to tug at his collar.
At his ridiculous glower, Amelia tried to stifle the inappropriate smile threatening to break out on her face. It soon faded when she contemplated a young Tavis being sent away to school having no mother and a father who detested him. She pictured an eight-year-old Tavis dropped into the middle of an all-male boarding school, surrounded by older, more mature companions. There would have been no one to listen to his thoughts or to tuck him in at night. No one to kiss away his fears and fix his problems with some milk and a biscuit.
No, he had grown up quickly without the tender guidance of a loving female.
While he had taken holidays with his aunt, those times apparently were not frequent enough to smooth out his rough edges. At least she was beginning to understand why Tavis, a handsome, confident man in the prime of his life, had been acting as if she were a male companion instead of the lady she was. Before she could stop herself or even think about what she was saying, she blurted out, “So you really don’t know much about women, do you?”
He choked on the bite of meat in his mouth and started coughing. She watched as his face reddened before he downed a sip of wine to clear his throat.
“Of course I know about women!” he insisted, his manly pride pricked by her frank assessment of his character.
“There goes my theory, then,” she mumbled, picking at the meat of her rabbit’s leg.
“And what theory was that?”
“That perhaps the reason you have pushed me so hard is that you are more accustomed to the habits of men rather than those of women.” She
knew he was processing her statement by the shrewd way his blue eyes observed her. He had ceased eating, and she found herself the recipient of his full attention, so she plunged ahead with the next idea that had been floating around in her head all day. “And that perhaps the reason you have overlooked my blatant attempts to, er, compromise my virtue is you yourself are equally inexperienced in matters of love and do not know how to”—she made a vague gesture with her hand—“to mmphh.” Her eyes flitted between his face, which had gone an alarming shade of red, and her unfinished meal on the table before her. “If you take my meaning.”
“I understand you clearly, madam.” He regarded her through narrowed eyes and leaned his elbows on the table so his face loomed closer to her own. “Why, I’ll have you know I have had relations, that is to say, I have known many a woman…”
Amelia resumed eating her meal. “If I may offer you some advice, Tavis? When alone with a lady who is your betrothed, it would serve you well to avoid talking about any and all past relationships.” She popped a bite of bread into her mouth. “You may take my advice or leave it, as you see fit.”
“Fine.” He shoved back his chair, prowled the short distance around the table to where she sat, and braced his arms on either side of her chair to box her in. The muscles of his arms bunched and shimmied in front of her hungry eyes, and she gulped at the raw masculinity of the man before her.
“Perhaps I might offer you some advice, as well?”
“But of course.”
“When alone with a man who is your betrothed, it would serve you well to avoid questioning his manhood or implying in any way that he is incapable of pleasing you.” He hauled her up and ensnared her in the iron bands of his arms. She didn’t miss the fierce light that had entered his eyes or the way his hands roamed over her back and down to the firm curves of her buttocks.
Little White Lies Page 8
