A SEAL's Struggle

by Cora Seton

  But Angus was taking it slow this time. He teased her and stroked her with his tongue until he saw her fingers tangle in the bedsheets. She was ready, but he couldn’t help teasing her more. He wanted her right at the edge when he pushed inside her again. Ready for another explosive orgasm.

  Lord knew he was ready. As hard and aching to be inside her as he’d been before.

  Win transformed him into randy teenager again. He could keep this up all night.

  “Angus—” Win gasped.

  He was up and on top of her in an instant, driving inside her until she cried out. Win moved with him as hungry for him as he was for her until they came together in a crash of hips and a chorus of cries, their orgasms overtaking them simultaneously.

  Angus’s went on and on until he wondered if there’d be anything left of him when it was over. He couldn’t get enough of Win. Couldn’t possess her enough. Couldn’t be possessed by her enough to convince him this wasn’t a dream.

  He didn’t know what he’d do if it was, he thought as he fell back against the mattress, Win beside him, sighing with happiness.

  They’d made love like this before she’d left. Had created a baby. And she’d run away, a little voice in his head said. Was she back for good now?

  He listened to his heartbeat. Felt the light pressure of Win’s hand on his chest.

  Don’t think, he told himself.

  If there was anything he’d learned in this world, trouble would come looking for them soon enough.

  Win loved the way Angus took her. If asked in the past, she would have said she liked her lovemaking tender and slow, but Angus’s desire brought out something a little wild in her, and now she felt like she was glowing inside and out.

  Angus’s hand was roaming over her even now, sliding over her hip, tracing down her thigh, then back up to cup the curve of her belly. All Win wanted was to savor the moment, but now that she’d told him about her past, it was time to come all the way clean. She needed to tell him about the man she’d seen in the woods. She should have told him already.

  “Angus—”

  A thunderous knock came on the front door, and both of them stiffened. It came again. “Angus? Let me in!”

  It was Leslie.

  “What’s she doing down here? Don’t they have an entire house to clean?” Win was already tugging her chemise over her head. Angus yanked on his boxer-briefs and jeans, tugged on socks and boots, and shrugged into his T-shirt and flannel. He moved toward the ladder.

  “I’m in the can, Leslie—give me a second,” he shouted.

  More pounding. “Open up!”

  Win did a half-hearted job with her corset, yanked her Regency-style dress over her head and shoved feet into boots. She climbed down the ladder awkwardly, Angus steadying her.

  “Is there a back way I can escape through?” she asked.

  “In here.” He led the way toward the bathroom. It wasn’t spacious by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t nearly as small as one might expect. Inside, the windowsill sat at the height of her hip, but outside the sharply sloping ground ran directly beneath it. “Thank God we put big windows in here.” Angus fiddled with the lock mechanism, slowly slid up the sash window and popped out the screen, leaning through the opening to set it on the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back. “This is the last way I want to end our time together.”

  Win nodded again. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She was carrying Angus’s child, and she was escaping out a bathroom window so his backup bride didn’t see her. Something was very wrong with this picture. Angus braced her as she lifted one leg, then the other over the sill and scrambled outside.

  “Give me a minute to let Leslie in,” he said, looking up at her. She thought he’d say more, but he simply shook his head as she handed him the screen, popped it back into place and shut the window again.

  Win could hear Leslie pounding on the door on the far side of the house. She didn’t think anyone else could see her from here, thank goodness, or her humiliation would be complete.

  Sometimes life was really… stupid, she thought, biting back the urge to cry that was building in her throat.

  She had to be fearless, she decided. She had to throw away any worries she might harbor about exposing herself to ridicule during this process. It was embarrassing to be out here while Angus was in there with Leslie, but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was that she’d end up with the man she loved, raising the child she loved, doing the work she loved. Anyone else’s opinions about how she got there were meaningless.

  The knocking had stopped. Leslie must be inside the tiny house now. Win ran lightly up the steep slope and crossed the hillside above the house’s roof.

  She’d pulled it off.

  “Win?”

  Byron, standing just outside the tiny house’s door, stared at up at her. She felt a flush build from her throat into her cheeks.

  “You were—with him?”

  “Mind your own business,” Win snapped and kept going.

  Chapter Ten

  ‡

  “Where is she?” Leslie demanded, her hands on her hips. The long skirts of her light-blue Regency gown swirled around her legs, echoing her indignation.

  “Who?” Angus asked as innocently as he could. His body was still tingling from the intimate interlude he’d been sharing with Win. Leslie’s presence was like a splash of cold water to the face.

  “My rival. Win. Where is she? I know she’s in here.”

  “I don’t know what makes you think that—”

  “Because I’m not stupid, and because there were two sets of footprints coming from the greenhouse to here.”

  “There must be dozens of footprints. I walk back and forth all the time.” As Angus pulled himself together, he realized he might be in more trouble than he’d thought.

  “I’m a tracker,” Leslie snapped. “I get called in to help find lost pets and farm animals, did you know that?”

  “No.” Worry settled in Angus’s gut. If she walked around the tiny house, would she be able to make out one set of tracks running away from the bathroom window? Anyone could figure out what that meant.

  “You think I’m young and stupid, but I’m not. I’m practical. I’m thorough, too.” She began to pace the small house, as if she was sure Win might be hiding in a corner. She made a circuit of the living room area, ducking down to look under the small built-in table and in every nook and cranny of the unfurnished space.

  “You can see for yourself she’s not here,” Angus said, following her toward the bathroom. Worry mounted in his chest as she looked in the space between the vanity and the composting toilet and poked her head into the shower stall. She was getting closer to the window. “You know damn well a wealthy woman like Win wouldn’t hide in a bathroom.” He knew Win’s status bothered Leslie. “She’s got a lot more class than that.”

  “Hmph.” Leslie turned, twitched her skirts behind her and headed back into the main area. She grabbed the railing of the ladder to the loft with one hand, lifted her skirts with the other and began to climb. “Rival, I know you’re in here!”

  “She’s not here,” Angus said again.

  “Someone’s been here. This place is a mess.”

  Was she tidying it? The woman couldn’t stop for a minute, could she?

  “I’ve been here,” Angus told her. “When I need some time alone, this is where I come.”

  Leslie poked her head over the edge of the loft. “Being alone isn’t healthy.” She disappeared again. He heard the snap of the sheets as she made the bed and stifled a sigh.

  “I’m going back to work in the greenhouse.” He turned toward the door just as Byron opened it, bringing a camera inside. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

  “Language!” Leslie snapped. She peeped over the edge of the loft again. “Byron.”

  “Leslie.” Byron wouldn’t look at Angus, and the tight look on his face left Angus uneasy. Had he run into Win outside?r />
  Leslie went back to her task. Angus edged past Byron awkwardly in the cramped space and had just grasped the doorknob when she cried out.

  “Leslie?” Byron all but dropped his camera and raced to the ladder.

  “Yoga pants!” Leslie appeared at the top of the ladder again. “Win’s yoga pants!”

  “You don’t know they’re hers,” Angus said.

  “They have a pregnancy waistline.” Leslie shook the pants at him, showing him the stretchy panel, and swung around to climb back down. Byron scrambled out of her way. “You’ve been very bad, Angus. And my rival has been even worse. Enticing you away the minute my back is turned. Well, you can bet my back won’t ever be turned again. I have twenty-three more days, and by the end of them, you’re going to love me.”

  Byron’s face fell, and he turned aside to fetch his camera. By the time he’d straightened again, his expression was neutral.

  “Look, Leslie,” Angus began.

  “No. No honeyed words to turn my head,” Leslie said. “I won’t be taken in by you again. You’re going to have to work hard to prove your trustworthiness to me.”

  He didn’t want to prove his trustworthiness, but Leslie had him on the ropes, and she knew it. She did have twenty-three more days.

  “That’s it, I’m doing it,” she muttered.

  “Doing what?” Byron asked. He was filming them now.

  She pulled a cell phone out of a pocket in her dress and began to tap away at it. “Getting a backup husband for Win. One she can’t resist. Then you’ll have no one to marry but me.”

  A backup husband?

  Angus didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Pittance Creek. Midnight. I’ll slip out first. You follow.

  Win erased Angus’s text, anticipation shooting through her at the thought of being with him again. Making love three days ago had only increased her cravings rather than diminished them. This was what Angus did to her—lit a match to the fuse of her desire.

  She spent the rest of the day on pins and needles, terrified Leslie would somehow read their intentions in their faces, but the young woman chattered on like normal, her running commentary as familiar to Win now as Boone’s bossiness and Byron’s puppy-dog expression.

  It was amazing to Win that neither Leslie nor Angus seemed to have noticed Byron’s longing for the backup bride. Byron hid his real reason for stalking the newcomer by talking about his need to gain experience for his résumé. He followed her around as if he was documenting the lead-up to a moonshot, and when the first episode since Leslie’s arrival aired, she dominated most of it. The other cameramen seemed glad to let him do the leg work for the next episode, although they kept up following the other inhabitants of Base Camp, looking for interesting side stories to tell.

  “That boy is going to trip over himself trying to get close to Leslie,” Addison murmured to her at lunch. Leslie, as usual, was nearly glued to Angus’s side. Byron must have been doing a closeup of her as the group of them chattered, because his video camera certainly wasn’t focused on anyone else.

  “I wondered if anyone else had noticed,” Win murmured back.

  “You can’t miss it.”

  “And yet Leslie has.”

  When they returned to the greenhouse, Win hung back to savor a moment or two of silence before spending hours in Leslie’s chatterbox company and noticed Byron picking some of the wildflowers that edged a nearby field.

  “Leslie,” he called out, and she waited for him just outside the door, although Angus had gone inside. “Here. For you. I heard you say you loved wildflowers. Thought you might like these.”

  Leslie’s face lit up, and for a moment Win pitied her; judging by her reaction to Byron’s small kindness, Leslie was feeling starved of that kind of attention. Angus was almost always polite but distant with her, despite all her attempts to garner his interest. It must be hard to face that rejection day after day and keep trying.

  “Thank you!” Leslie went up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Byron’s cheek. “You’re so sweet. If only other people would learn from you.” She directed this last sentence through the greenhouse door toward Angus and immediately followed him inside, leaving Byron dejected on the doorsill. Win approached and patted his arm.

  “Don’t give up.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything!” His alarm was clear.

  “I didn’t say you were.” She sailed past him and got to work, already wishing it was bedtime.

  At midnight, Angus paced the bank of Pittance Creek, straining to see through the darkness. Was Win on her way yet? He didn’t think anyone had seen him sneak out, and if they did, they hadn’t commented. She wasn’t as used to covert operations, however. She might get caught.

  Too soon to panic, he told himself. She’d have waited a bit to make sure no one had woken up when he left. Then she had to get her outer things on and sneak out herself. She’d be a few more minutes.

  When a rustle sounded nearby, Angus instantly went on alert. “Win?” he hissed, but nothing moved nearby. Had it been the breeze playing through trees or something else?

  Angus wasn’t sure, but it occurred to him Win would feel exposed on her way from the bunkhouse to the creek. He should have waited for her much closer.

  He began to move back the way he’d come along the path, stepping softly along the rutted track, listening for the sound again.

  When he met up with Win, he’d take her back to his tiny house again, he decided. He’d meant to be with her on the banks of the creek, figuring the moonlight and gentle spring air would make the encounter romantic. Win would prefer the safety of walls around her, though, he reasoned, and he wanted her to feel secure. He wanted her focused on nothing other than being with him—

  A scream tore through the still night air, long and high, raising the hair on his arms. Angus charged toward Base Camp before he even had time for conscious thought.

  “Win!” he shouted. A second later he spotted her, half crouched in the middle of the path. He scooped her into his arms and kept going toward the bunkhouse, where already men and women were spilling out. The tiny houses up and down the slope nearby were lighting up as people came to see what had happened.

  “What is it?” Boone shouted.

  “Win?” Angus prompted, still carrying her.

  “I saw someone—in the woods. A man!”

  “Jericho. Clay. Kai,” Boone snapped. The men instantly followed him down the path, spreading out into the trees to look. Other men took up positions around the bunkhouse.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Angus said.

  They were trailed by the rest of the women in the community, all of them hurrying to the safety of the bunkhouse. Avery ducked into the kitchen. Riley got out a couple of folding chairs. Someone else fetched a blanket. They wrapped up Win, and Angus sat down, Win on his lap.

  Only Leslie stood apart, arms folded over her chest, her gaze shifting from one to the other of them.

  “What were you two doing in the woods?” she asked.

  Hell.

  “I… went for a walk,” Win said unsteadily. “I needed air.”

  “But you were out there, too,” Leslie said to Angus.

  “I… needed air, too,” he said lamely.

  Leslie didn’t say another word.

  “Who do you think was out there?” Riley asked into the uncomfortable silence.

  “I didn’t get a look at his face,” Win managed. “But I think he was the same one I saw before.”

  Angus tensed. Looked around to see his confusion echoed in everyone else’s faces.

  “I know I should have told you,” Win whispered, “but I didn’t think it was serious—”

  “After what happened to Nora? And our food?” Savannah said.

  “He was across the creek. I thought he might be hiking.” Win broke off, and Angus figured she knew how ridiculous that sounded.

  He couldn’t believe she hadn’t told him about it. “You said your parents told you there�
�d been threats to your family, and you didn’t take seeing a stranger in the woods seriously?”

  “You didn’t take those threats very seriously, did you?” she retorted.

  She was right.

  “Wait, you knew someone was threatening Win and her family, and you didn’t tell anyone?” Riley asked him.

  “I thought her parents were lying again…”

  “It sounds like everyone needs to take our security more seriously,” Avery asserted, coming back with a cup of tea. “I hope from now on everyone does, but there isn’t much sense arguing about it now.”

  “I agree,” Angus said reluctantly. The important thing was Win was safe.

  Leslie kept her face averted, obviously still angry that he’d been out of the bunkhouse with Win in the middle of the night. Angus knew there’s be repercussions.

  He hoped he hadn’t just lost them the show.

  “I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I’d be remiss as a parent not to let you know the threats aren’t going away. If anything, they’ve ramped up, and your name has been mentioned,” Win’s father said.

  Win was already regretting taking his call, but Leslie had been tailing her again as she’d crossed from the bunkhouse to the greenhouses, something she did whenever Angus was detained these days. Win had hoped the younger woman had good enough manners to leave her alone while she took the call. Instead, Leslie folded her arms and waited. Byron and his film crew kept the cameras rolling. On the one hand, she was grateful that everyone in camp made sure she was never alone. The men hadn’t found anyone when they’d searched Base Camp after her scare, so whoever she’d seen was still loose. On the other hand, she could have used a little time to herself—in the safety of camp, of course.

  After the events of the other night, Leslie had cornered Boone, demanded direct access to Fulsom, and when she got it, she upbraided him for allowing Angus to keep going off alone with Win. Win didn’t think Fulsom knew what hit him, but he laid down the law. Win and Angus weren’t allowed to be alone together until Leslie’s thirty days were up, and Win had to sleep in the bunkhouse so Leslie could keep an eye on her at night. “It’s either that, or I’ll have to stand guard with Angus when he gets watch duty to keep him from sneaking off,” Leslie had pointed out.