A SEAL's Struggle

by Cora Seton

But when Angus crossed the room to ask Leslie to partner him, the younger woman pushed him away and raced off toward the back of the house. Win exchanged a surprised look with Angus, then hurried to follow her. She wasn’t sure if Leslie would welcome her assistance, but she couldn’t very well leave her alone in this kind of mood.

  Byron and his crew quickly followed as well, much to Win’s frustration. She wondered if what Leslie needed was a heart to heart with another woman. She couldn’t remember seeing Leslie ever phone a friend—or her family. Was she getting advice from anyone, or handling all of this alone?

  She found her in the kitchen, leaning against the wall near the refrigerator, arms crossed, head lowered.

  “Leslie?” Win asked hesitantly. “You okay?”

  Leslie mumbled something.

  “What was that?”

  “I don’t know how to dance,” Leslie blazed. “No one ever taught me. All of you know all the steps to all the songs, and I don’t know a single one.”

  Win had expected her to rail about Angus’s behavior, so she was too surprised to answer.

  “I get that you don’t want me here,” the younger woman went on. “You want Angus for yourself because he’s the father of your child, and that’s natural. I don’t like it, but I get it. But that’s not all of it. No one wants me here, no matter how hard I work, how hard I try to make friends, how useful I am, how much I help. No one wants me. So you keep me out of everything. You don’t include me. You don’t invite me to your coffee klatches. You don’t teach me how to dance!”

  She was right, Win realized. Right from day one they’d all assumed they could get her to leave. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess all I’ve thought about since I got here was how to be with Angus.”

  “I’m supposed to have thirty days! You didn’t even give me one!”

  “He’s my baby’s father. Put yourself in my shoes. Wouldn’t you fight to get him back?”

  Leslie straightened. “If I was in your shoes, I’d never have left in the first place. That’s the difference between me and you, Win Lisle. I know what I’ve got. I appreciate it. I don’t go looking for more.”

  “So I’m not as perfect as you are,” Win blazed back. “My situation is messy. My parents manipulated me. I got caught up in their story of how I should live. But you know what? I figured it out in the end. And that’s the real difference between you and me. When I make a mistake, I know how to admit it. You just dig in and make it worse and worse.”

  “That’s not true!” Leslie cried.

  “Isn’t it?” Win stepped closer to her. “Is Angus really the man for you? Or is there someone else? Someone who actually loves you as much as you could love him if you just shut up a minute and looked around you?”

  She spun on her heel in time to catch Byron’s shocked expression, but Win didn’t wait to see how Leslie would react. She’d had her say. Either Leslie would take her meaning and try something different, or she wouldn’t.

  All Win knew was she wasn’t going to stand back and let someone else be with Angus anymore.

  It was a long, quiet ride home from the Russells’ house. Somehow they’d all gotten through the evening without letting the Russells see too much of the drama happening behind the scenes. Leslie had disappeared for nearly an hour, but Win had told Angus to leave her alone. Byron had slunk around the room where the dancing was taking place, giving his crew perfunctory orders but obviously waiting even more anxiously than Angus was for Leslie’s reappearance.

  When she did come back, she ignored all of them, selected a book off the floor-to-ceiling shelf in one corner of the room and sat reading in one of the chairs. If Maud or James noticed anything amiss, they were too accomplished as hosts to point it out.

  Finally, it was time to leave. Angus hadn’t meant to end up in a barouche with Leslie, but Win had made it clear he shouldn’t ride with her.

  “We have to play by the rules until midnight,” she’d said when he lifted her into one of the other carriages.

  Angus knew she was right. Besides, it didn’t matter. Leslie still wasn’t talking, and midnight was right around the corner. Byron and a couple of crew members rode with them, as well as Riley and Boone. No one said a word until they were halfway home.

  “I always push. That’s my fatal flaw. Push, push, push,” Leslie said suddenly.

  Byron, filming them desultorily from the front seat, made a sound almost like a growl but didn’t lower his camera. Angus had to give it to him; he was a professional.

  It was time to stop this, Angus realized. Time to speak clearly for once. “None of this is your fault. You deserve better. You deserve a man who’s in love with you.”

  “I know I do. I just got too wrapped up in my goal of being with you to see there was someone better right in front of my face.”

  Angus hadn’t expected that. “Someone better?”

  Leslie nodded vehemently. “Byron’s more of a man than you could ever be. He’s kind, considerate, loyal. He sees me in a way you never did.”

  “You’re damn right I do,” Byron said. “I see everything about you, Leslie Baker. I know exactly how amazing you are.”

  “I followed you around trying to make you love me, Angus, when all the while Byron didn’t need me to make him feel anything.” She put up a hand to stop Byron from speaking when he opened his mouth. “I need time now. I have to sort out why I did what I did, and I need to figure out what I really want, and then I need to get to know you,” she told him. “Then you can tell me what you were about to say just now.”

  Byron nodded. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about you, but you haven’t had the chance to think about me yet.”

  “That’s true. I think I’m going to like thinking about you, though.” A mischievous smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

  “Good.” Angus could practically hear the answering smile in Byron’s voice, and his heart lifted. He held perfectly still, afraid to break the spell the two of them were weaving. “While I’m waiting for you to do that thinking, I’ll build my tiny house,” Byron went on. “I’ll learn to work with the bison and grow my own food. I’ll learn the dances so the next time we go to the Russells’ I can ask you to dance with me. When you’re ready for me, I’ll be ready for you. What do you think?”

  “I think that sounds perfect.” Leslie took his hand. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‡

  “It’s midnight; my thirty days are up,” Angus said when he disembarked from the carriage and found Win in the crowd.

  “Thank goodness. What should we do to celebrate?” Win asked, linking her arm in his.

  “Should we go back to my tiny house?” It had been far too long since he’d shared a bed with Win, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do now he was free and clear of his obligation to Leslie.

  “Can we make it without running into someone?” she asked. “Because honestly, I don’t think I could stand it if someone else tries to stop us from being together.”

  “I think Leslie’s with Byron.” He filled her in on what had happened in the barouche. “Sounds like she’s ready to give him a try.”

  “It’s about time; Byron’s been mooning after her for weeks.”

  “I’ve been mooning after you for months.” He stopped and drew her closer, bending down to brush his mouth over hers. “Come on; I want you alone.” Keeping an arm around her, he hurried her past the bunkhouse, past the tiny houses and onto the path toward Pittance Creek.

  “I thought we were going to your place.”

  “You made a good point; I don’t want to be interrupted.” He didn’t speak again until they reached the creek, where he stopped, faced her and dropped to one knee.

  “Angus?” Win asked breathlessly.

  “Win Lisle, I’ve loved you since the day we met, and now I understand everything you were prepared to give up in order to be with me. Your family’s position and power. Your wealth.
The security you thought you’d known. Even before you realized the price you were paying for all of that, you were willing to take a chance on me. I swear that for the rest of my life I’ll work hard to be worth it.”

  “You’ve always been worth it,” Win broke in.

  “Lass, let me get it all out,” Angus said. “It means a lot to me to know you’d take a chance on a man and a community that hadn’t proved much of anything to you. I swear I will be a husband and a father you can be proud of. I will always be there for you. Worthy of your trust.” He fished in his pocket, pulled out a little velvet box and opened it, displaying a beautiful old-fashioned diamond ring. “I’ve been carrying this around for months, waiting until I’d been given the go-ahead to give it to you. I’m done waiting. I should have done this a lot sooner.” He plucked the ring out of its box and took her hand, hesitating. “But first you’ve got to give me an answer. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course, I will. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Oh!” She gasped when he surged to his feet, swung her into his arms and kissed her, then bent again to plant another kiss on her belly.

  “Did you hear that? I get to make an honest woman of your mother.”

  “You mean, I get to make an honest man of you.” Win pulled him up again and kissed him soundly. “Oh, I’ve missed that,” she said when they finally pulled apart. “Angus, we can’t ever fight, because I want to kiss you all the time.”

  “Me, too,” he agreed. “Now, get those clothes off and let me at you.”

  “Here?” She looked around them.

  Angus worked at the fastenings of her long, old-fashioned jacket. She unzipped his in no time and helped him out of it, then waited patiently for him to finish with hers. He surveyed her dress despondently. “Your clothes are way too complicated.”

  “Nothing a Navy SEAL like you can’t handle,” she encouraged him and turned her back, giving him access.

  She was right; he was up to the task of undressing her, and soon she stood in her winter boots, shift and yoga pants, while he was down to jeans, boots and skivvies.

  “Now what?” she asked him. “It’s too cold to be barefoot.” She was shivering. The day had been warm, but the night was cool. Angus knew he needed to take action fast.

  He picked her up. “Shoes off,” he ordered. She kicked her feet until one and then the other fell to the ground. “Pants off, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” she purred. “Are you sure you can hold on to me, though? I’m a little bulkier than I used to be.”

  “I’ve got you,” Angus said with a grin.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, scooted her yoga pants down under her bottom, lifted one leg to shimmy the stretchy garment off it, then repeated the procedure on the other. Her growing belly made things awkward, but somehow she managed it. Hooking her legs together around his waist again, she tossed the pants aside and shimmied her shift up and over her head. Clad only in a tiny, silky pair of panties, she smiled up at him. “Better?”

  “So much better. Do that wriggling thing again and get the rest of it off. Or I can tear them off if you like.”

  She glanced down. “I like this pair.” She shimmied around, her breasts coming tantalizingly close to his mouth as she performed the maneuver, and he took the opportunity to tease them, suckling first one and then the other as she moved in his arms.

  Win was panting by the time she’d gotten everything off. “That’s like doing gymnastics. It could be a whole new kind of exercise program. I’m not nearly as flexible as I was before I got pregnant.”

  “I’m down for a workout any time you are.” Angus reached down, undid the button of his jeans, got the zipper down and shoved them—and his boxer briefs—around his knees. When he pressed up against her, he groaned. The air was cool around him, but Win was oh, so hot.

  “Finally,” she breathed as they rested there a moment together. Her breasts pressed against his chest in a delightful way, and her mouth met his. Angus allowed his hands to explore her curves, hardly able to take in that this woman had agreed to be his wife. They could be together whenever they wanted from now on—

  “Know what?”

  “What?”

  “We’re alone. Totally alone.”

  Win looked around. Listened for a minute. All she heard was the breeze rattling the bare branches of the trees far overhead. “You’re right. Are you finally going to make love to me?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Win wrapped her arms around Angus’s neck for leverage. She used her legs, still linked around his waist, to lift up just enough to allow him to nudge against her and then slide inside.

  Both of them let out a breath.

  “I thought you’d never get in me,” Win complained.

  “I know.” Angus held her there, and she knew he was feeling the same way she was, glorying in the sensation of their connection for a long moment before he began to move. He braced himself, supported her bottom with one hand and wrapped the other around her, then began to slide in and out of her in long, strong strokes, sending shivers of sweet longing through Win. She closed her eyes and clung to him, amazed at the way he could hold her—make love to her—like this. The muscles in his shoulders tensed under her hands, his fingers added pressure in all the right places, enhancing the sensations his movements were stirring to life inside of her. His kisses along her neck, her jaw, capturing her mouth made it all the sweeter.

  Win moaned when Angus caught one of her nipples in his mouth, teasing and laving it until she was breathless with want and desire and sensation. All she could do was arch back, dig her fingers into his shoulders and enjoy the ride.

  Angus was magnificent. A gentle warrior dedicated to protecting her, sharing his life with her and using his body to bring hers to the highest levels of delight. Win gave herself to him utterly, crying out when he brought her close to the edge—then crying out again when she went over it, crashing down in wave after wave of relief, her cries mingling with his as they bucked together, sharing a closeness that nothing could supersede.

  When it was over, she laid her head on his shoulder and panted, glorying in the sound of his shuddering breaths. They brought each other to these heights, fit together like only soul mates could. This was her man. Her Angus.

  She’d never leave him again.

  “Meeting in five minutes—before breakfast,” Boone greeted them the next morning when they finally made it to the bunkhouse. They’d spent the night in Angus’s tiny house, but they’d hardly slept.

  “We’ll be here,” Angus said. Nothing that happened now could dim his happiness. Win had agreed to marry him. She was wearing his ring. Bearing his child. And the love they’d made in the woods last night had rocked his mind.

  Now they’d have a lifetime of such encounters. Some indoors, he hoped. But some outdoors, too. It had felt good to plant himself like a tree in the woods and coax sweet cries of bliss from the woman he loved. He didn’t think there was anything sexier than the sounds Win made when she was fulfilled, and he meant to spend his life making her happy. It was far more than the sex he was looking forward to, though. Spending time with Win, talking to her, laughing with her, raising their child—he couldn’t think of anything better.

  Win scooted off to rummage in her luggage for new clothes and made for the bathroom. When she was done, he took his turn, and by the time he emerged again, the bunkhouse had filled with Base Camp’s inhabitants.

  “Is Fulsom here?” Greg asked, sidling up to Angus.

  “Haven’t seen him.” He knew why Greg asked—this kind of thing usually led to a visit from their benefactor.

  “Settle down, everyone,” Boone called from the front of the room. Angus held out a chair for Win and sat as close to her as he could. “Don’t worry; Fulsom’s not coming.”

  There was an audible sigh of relief in the room and a few chuckles.

  “We need to have a talk, though. First—Angus? Do you have any news?”

  “I
do,” Angus said. “Win’s agreed to be my wife.” He squeezed her and held up her hand. “Here’s the proof.” Her ring winked in the light.

  “Leslie—any objections?”

  “None at all,” Leslie said, beaming. Byron’s arm was around her shoulders.

  “Then that’s settled,” Boone said. “Angus, Win, we’ll get your wedding planned right away. I’m relieved,” he added, “but that’s not why I asked you all to come here.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel like our experiment has gone off the rails.”

  Angus exchanged a look with Win.

  “Winter has been hard on all of us. The attacks on our power and food systems, the broken nights when we’re taking turns on guard duty, the cramped quarters for the single people and all Clem’s interference—it’s taken its toll.”

  Around them people were nodding.

  “It’s already April,” Boone went on. “We’ve got nearly two months to go, but that time is going to go fast. Spring is here. We’ve already started the plants we’ll grow in our garden this year. We’ve got to hang in there and get this done—but that’s not all we have to do.”

  Angus squeezed Win’s hand. He wanted her to know that whatever Boone was going to lay on their shoulders next, he’d be there to help her. She squeezed his hand back.

  “We’ve got to enjoy ourselves,” Boone said firmly.

  Around them, the others exchanged glances, surprised at the direction he’d taken. “We’re the ones who conceived of Base Camp, not Fulsom. We’re the ones who chose to come here and pursue a simpler life. You women made hard choices so that you’d have time to pursue projects you weren’t getting to out there in the wider world. And I’m pretty sure most of us men had ideas we wanted to pursue, too.” He looked around the room. “We’re letting Fulsom control us. We’re letting the show dictate our schedules. We’re losing the very thing we wanted to build—all of us heading in different directions, scrambling to fit it all into a day.”

  “What do you want us to do about it?” Savannah called out.