Midnight

by Beverly Jenkins

  His weariness was plain and she felt sorry for being the cause of so much strain. “Then go and sleep,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine now. Is there a tub so I might bathe?”

  “There’s one down the hall.”

  “All right. When I get up I’ll heat some water and rid myself of the grime. How close is the pump to the house?”

  “Why?”

  “So I’ll know where to look for it. I’ll need to pump the water to bathe, you know.”

  “I’ll take care of the water. You’re supposed to be recovering, remember?”

  “I do, but what time do you rise? I should have strength enough to cook breakfast.”

  He looked to the heavens as if for strength of his own. “I never knew you were deaf.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You must be because you obviously didn’t hear me say you are to do nothing for the next few days.”

  “Oh,” she responded. She looked up at him. “This is going to be difficult for me.”

  “I’m seeing that.”

  She dropped her head to mask her smile. “I’ve never been ill before. How will I pass the time?”

  “Read? Correspond? Anything that doesn’t involve household chores.”

  “But I’m the housekeeper.”

  “Not until you are fully well.”

  She sighed. “All right.”

  “Good.”

  “I suppose chopping wood for the fireplaces is out, too?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “We’ll do well together, I think.”

  She agreed.

  “Do you wish to sleep in the bed?”

  She looked over at it and then back to the dark pelts plied high by the fire. “May I ask why you had me sleep on those?”

  “So I could place you closer to the fire.”

  “Are they yours?”

  He nodded. “I brought them back with me when I left the Iroquois.”

  She covered her surprise by asking, “Were they a gift?”

  “No, they were my bed.”

  “During a visit?”

  “No. I lived with the Confederation a year or so.”

  “You’re jesting?”

  “No.”

  She’d never known anyone who’d slept on pelts or had lived with a native tribe. She studied him as if there might be a visible sign of his time there. “Were you captured?”

  “No, I was there by choice. I’ll tell you the story soon if you are still interested. Now I just wish for you to rest, so that I may do the same.”

  She preferred to hear his tale, but he was correct, they both needed rest and he especially so. “I’ll use the pelts, if I may.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be down the hall in my father’s room.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Faith.”

  “Good night.”

  Later, as Nicholas lay in bed, he thought about the young woman sleeping in his bedroom. He was glad she’d accepted his offer, which in reality had been selfish in nature. With her as his housekeeper, he’d be able to see her, banter with her, and for certain lock horns with her on a daily basis. She would do for female companionship, and because he’d promised to keep his attraction to her under control, he could always engage in a discreet dalliance with someone else should his physical needs become great, but that didn’t interest him. She did. He’d never met a good woman with her spine and determination, and he certainly had never made a loan to one with a plan to go into business for herself. Her father was an old fool. It was easy to see the potential in her idea, and if she worked as hard as he guessed she might, she’d soon be a force to reckon with. In the meantime, he needed sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open, so he surrendered and let slumber have its way.

  Chapter 13

  Nick was awakened the following morning by the sounds of pounding. Bleary-eyed, he stared around the dim room. It took him a moment or two to realize where he was and why, but once he conquered that the pounding started again. Someone was knocking on the door, he finally deduced. Not happy, he pulled on a shirt and breeches, picked up his pistol, and padded barefoot to the stairs.

  The thundering knocks continued to rattle the door. “I’m coming!” he yelled out in sullen response over the din. He hoped that whoever it was had a damn good reason for pulling him out of his warm bed.

  He flung open the door and snarled like a bear whose winter nap had been interrupted, “What do you want!”

  “I’ve come for Faith.”

  It was Ingram Trotter. Nicholas almost slammed the door in his face, but knew Faith wouldn’t approve, so he put the desire aside. “What?”

  “I said, I’ve come for Faith. Her father says she’s here. He wants her to return home.”

  “Oh he does, does he? So he sent you to get shot instead?”

  Trotter’s eyes widened with surprise. Upon noticing the pistol in Nick’s hand they grew even larger and he warily stepped back a pace.

  Nick shook his head. “Come in. I’m at my poorest when I’ve not had enough sleep.” Not waiting to see if the man followed him, Nick turned and walked into the parlor and sat. Ingram appeared, and Nick soundlessly gestured him to take a seat.

  “Is she here?” Trotter asked.

  Nick eyed him balefully. “Yes.”

  “May I see her?”

  “She’s sleeping. I’d rather she not be disturbed.”

  “I demand to see her,” he countered.

  Nick had seen ground squirrels taller than Trotter. “You demand?”

  “Yes.”

  It was obvious that the short man hadn’t any idea what he’d walked into, and Nick felt no obligation to help or to explain. “You don’t enter another man’s home and demand anything.”

  “My apologies, but Mr. Kingston’s extremely worried, as am I, and I’m not leaving until I see her.”

  “Then I shall have the pleasure of tossing you out before I go back to bed.”

  “Nicholas, you will not toss him anywhere,” Faith voiced as she entered the room. Both men got to their feet. Amused, Nicholas held her eyes. She was wearing a gray blouse and skirt, but didn’t look any less disheveled than she had last night. She had a few lightning bolts in her eyes that were directed his way. It was easy for him to see that she’d attempted to do something with her thick black hair before joining them, but in reality only succeeded in resembling a woman who’d just stepped out of her lover’s bed. By the mildly shocked expression on Trotter’s face, he apparently thought the same.

  “Good morning, Ingram,” she said coolly, looking away from Nick’s unrepentant gaze. “What brings you here?”

  “Your father sent me to fetch you home.”

  “See why I wanted to toss him out?” Nicholas explained.

  “Behave yourself,” Faith chided him, holding on to her smile before replying to Ingram. “I won’t be returning.”

  “May I ask why not?”

  “We had an argument; he struck me and asked that I leave, so I did.”

  Nicholas added coolly, “And out into the teeth of last week’s ice storm.”

  Ingram visibly stilled and confessed, “He didn’t tell me that.”

  Nick replied, “And I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that he planned to sell Faith, along with the inn, to Will Case as if she were part of the furniture.”

  He stared.

  Faith nodded and informed him, “Father is planning to marry Elizabeth Sutter and they would prefer I not be in the way.”

  Ingram glanced confusedly between the two of them. “But why are you here? Why didn’t you come to Charity and me?”

  “Because she never made it that far,” Nick drawled. “She succumbed to the elements right outside my door. Did I fail to mention that he threw her out without a cloak?”

  Ingram’s mouth dropped.

  Faith asked, “Now do you understand why I can’t return, Ingram?”

  “Yes, but come home with me,” he told her, casting another
wary look at Nick. “Our place is small but Charity and I will make room.”

  Faith shook head. “I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t ask you to take that on. You have enough mouths to feed.”

  “We wouldn’t mind.”

  “I know, but I would. Everyone is struggling because of the blockade and you two are no exception.”

  “So you plan to stay here, with him?”

  “For the present, yes.”

  “In what capacity, if I may be so bold to ask.”

  Faith stilled at the accusatory sound of the question.

  Nicholas cracked icily, “You should have let me throw him out.”

  She shot him a quelling look, but Nick ignored that and said to her, “He’s asking you that rude question because your hair looks like you just left your lover’s bed.”

  Embarrassed, her hand quickly went to her hair.

  Nicholas wasn’t done. With his eyes on Trotter he asked Faith, “Does he always have such salacious thoughts about you, Faith?” Eyes still burning Trotter’s way, he asked, “Does your wife even know you’re here?”

  Faith threw up her hands at Nick’s teasing and pinned him with another disapproving glare, but Nick was enjoying his role. He wanted to swat the little man like a fly.

  “I’m employed as the housekeeper, Ingram. Nothing more,” she explained.

  The skepticism on his face was plain.

  “Doesn’t look like he believes you,” Nick pointed out.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Faith said, shooting her disapproval at Ingram this time.

  Her glaring must have gotten his attention because he replied hastily, “Faith, I’m terribly sorry. But the way you look—”

  “I collapsed in the storm that day, Ingram. I woke up four days later, here. I’ve been extremely ill, but Nicholas nursed the life back into me. He knows I have no money and nowhere to turn. He’s graciously offered me a position in his household. Should I have gone to the almshouse instead, providing I’d lived to do so?”

  As Ingram squirmed, Nick remembered her words when he’d accused her father of betraying Primus. My tongue is tart from having to debate nonsense with men like you . . . Standing there and listening to her skewer someone else, Nick could almost sympathize with Trotter. Almost. Faith Kingston was not to be toyed with.

  “My deepest apologies, Faith. Please forgive me.”

  “I do, but it would help immensely if you would explain my reasoning to anyone dragging my name through the mud. I’m not counting on my father to be truthful.”

  “I promise.”

  He looked to Nicholas. “My apologies to you as well.”

  Nick nodded tightly.

  “Mr. Grey, I’d like your permission for my wife and me to visit Faith occasionally if we may.”

  “As long as it doesn’t interfere with her duties, I see no reason to forbid it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Faith turned to Nick, and the warm thanks in her eyes melted his insides like honey in sunshine. He frowned. Nick enjoyed being with a woman who engaged his mind and his senses, but he’d yet to meet one who’d engaged his inner self and feelings. This one apparently had and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Woolgathering, that’s all.”

  She studied him for a moment longer, then turned her attention back to Trotter.

  While she and Ingram chatted about the health of his wife, Charity, and the baby, Nicholas silently watched them. She seemed at ease with Ingram, and although Nicholas knew the two had grown up together, he found himself envying the man’s knowledge of her. Trotter knew her in ways Nicholas could never duplicate. He knew what Faith had looked like as an adolescent and if she had been as strong-minded then as she was now. What had they done for fun? Nick wondered. She apparently enjoyed fishing, so had they sat on the creek banks with their lines and their bare feet in the water, while basking in their friendship? The two of them shared memories they’d take to the grave, and Nicholas wondered what that felt like, and if he’d ever find it in his life.

  The sound of Faith’s voice pulled him back.

  “Please give my love to Charity and let her know I am well.”

  “I will,” Trotter told her.

  He walked over and extended his hand to Nick, who grasped it in solid response.

  “Thank you for aiding her, and again, my apologies for my rudeness. I was simply concerned about Faith.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good day.”

  After giving Nick a respectful bow and tossing Faith a smile, he made his departure.

  In the silence that followed, she looked Nick’s way. “Would you have really thrown him out?”

  “Yes. He woke me up, and was pounding on the door like a redcoat. I almost slammed the door in his face, but I assumed you wouldn’t care for that.”

  “You assumed correctly.”

  “See, I’m learning what pleases you.”

  His declaration was as potent as his eyes and voice, Faith decided. She knew he was going to be a handful, but she had no idea she’d have to grow more hands in order to keep pace. He’d played with Ingram like a cat with a mouse. “Thank you for being so nice to him at the end.”

  “It was difficult.”

  She smiled. “If I neglected to say good morning—good morning.”

  “Good morning. How was your sleep?”

  “Well. I feel better. I’m past ready to be clean, however. Will you pump the water, since I am not allowed to do so.”

  He heard the dig. “I see the tart tongue has recovered.”

  She gave him a quick curtsy.

  He laughed. “Let me get my shoes, your majesty, and I’ll pump your water.”

  “Most appreciated, sir.”

  “But humor me and have a seat in that chair, so that you don’t keel over from having done too much already this morning.”

  Faith knew she wasn’t as strong as she wanted, but she’d been determined to ignore the weakness and press on through the day. “Must I?”

  He nodded.

  She offered a mock snarl and sat. “Happy?” she asked softly.

  “Extremely. Now be in the chair when I return and I will be ecstatic.”

  “I am here to serve.”

  He chuckled and left to put on his shoes.

  While Faith waited for him to return with her bathwater, she thought back on the direction her life had taken since her banishment from the inn. At least now she’d found housing and employment. She had no idea how it would work out but it beat by a large margin having to go to an almshouse. Her father was going to have apoplexy when he learned she’d moved in, and would not be kind in his words about her when talking to his friends, but she didn’t care. Nicholas was right, life boiled down to how you felt about yourself. She’d never heard it expressed in such a succinct manner before though. Beneath his gruff and incorrigible nature lay a razor-sharp mind and even sharper wit. She couldn’t believe her ears when he asked Ingram if Charity knew his whereabouts. Trotter had looked so stunned, she’d felt sorry for him. Faith had never had anyone champion her before, but now it seemed that she did and she found it rather nice. He was also going to invest in her idea to make herself self-sufficient and that was rather nice, too.

  This was her first true look around at the parlor. The furniture was of fine, highly polished woods and the lamps were of good quality as well. She eyed the large painting of a woman hanging above the fireplace mantel. She was dressed in a blue gown and was stiffly posed as was common for the times. Faith wondered if this was Adeline, Primus’s wife and the mother of Nicholas. She certainly had been beautiful. Even in the unsmiling pose Faith could see the light in her young eyes and Nicholas’s resemblance to her. Had she really been the cause of the rift between their fathers? Nicholas’s recounting of her father’s angry words about Adeline made Faith even more curious about the unsolved mystery. One day maybe t
he questions would be answered, but right now the only person with those answers had cut himself out of Faith’s life. She sighed.

  She heard Nicholas’s footsteps as he reentered the house. She moved to get up but remembered she’d been asked to stay seated, so she waited for him to appear. After a short while, he did. “Ecstatic to see me still seated?” she asked.

  Nicholas gave her a grin. “Very much so.” He could still see the tiredness in her eyes, however, and planned to keep a tight rein on her activities for the rest of the day. “The water is heating and as soon as it is ready, I’ll pour it into the tub for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s a proper bathing tub, so it may take a bit longer to warm all the water needed to fill it.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve never bathed in one before. Only hip tubs.”

  “I believe you will enjoy it.”

  She turned her eyes to the window and saw the sunshine. “Is it cold outdoors?”

  “Not overly so for this time of year. Why? Would you like to go out and get some air?”

  “I would maybe later.”

  Nicholas wasn’t sure if that was a sensible idea or not, after all she’d only been up and around less than a day. “We’ll see what your strength is like this afternoon.”

  She nodded.

  While they waited for the water to heat, he went into the kitchen and sliced her off some meat, added bread and a cup of coffee, placed everything on a tray, and took it into the parlor. “Here’s breakfast.”

  “Thank you,” she said, eyeing the offerings with interest. “I am hungry. Is this coffee?” she asked, looking up from the dark-colored beverage in her cup.

  Nicholas took his plate from the tray and took a seat on the floor before the blazing fireplace. “This is a rebel household,” he reminded her.

  Coffee was the beverage of choice for rebellion supporters. They began consuming it in response to the boycott of British tea that culminated in the now infamous Boston Tea Party. She took a hesitant sip and frowned. “The taste may take some getting used to. Do you have any honey or molasses?”