She quirked a doubtful brow. “Sometimes indeed. Less is never more when it comes to food. Bread and cheese, Nathan? Honestly, I am starving!”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” he shushed, amused in spite of himself. “And my name is Matthew, as you are well aware, Felicity.” He gave her a pointed look at sat back.
She huffed in frustration and folded her arms. “Yes, of course, Matthew, darling,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could. “But the point of the matter is that I hardly think this meal is going to be substantial enough for me.”
“Then I shall be certain to make sure that you receive a fine breakfast in the morning, all right?”
“All right,” she grumbled, not at all sure that would help things.
Nathan was really very amused by her antics. Was she always this grumpy when she was hungry, or was it just because she was tired from their journey? Somehow, he suspected it was both.
Before he could ask her about it, however, the innkeeper was back with a warm loaf of bread and some cheese for them. Moira obviously restrained herself, but Nathan could tell that she really would rather have attacked the whole thing instead of waiting for him to cut it for her.
“Is there anything else I can do for you before I go to prepare your room?” the innkeeper asked with a smile.
Moira shook her head, giving him a dazzling smile of her own. “No, I thank you, this is more than enough.”
The man blinked, gave an unsteady smile, and nodded, then ambled out of the room.
Nathan chuckled, which made Moira look at him questioningly. “What?” she asked.
“You should not do that,” he said with a smile.
“Do what?” She frowned. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Au contraire,” he said, wagging a finger slightly. “You confounded that man so completely that he probably does not know which way is up and which is down.”
“What?” she laughed, taking another bite of her bread and cheese. “I smiled at the man.”
“Yes, exactly. I don’t think you are aware of this, Moira, but the smile of a beautiful woman is a very powerful and dangerous thing to a man.”
“Well,” she replied in an off-hand manner, not meeting his eyes, “if that is the case, then he should only be merely confused by mine. I will admit to being mildly attractive,” she said, holding a hand up to Nathan’s protests, “but I cannot admit more than that. It would be incredibly vain, as well as incorrect.”
“Moira,” Nathan scolded in a low voice.
She looked at him finally, obviously not willing to hear more.
He met her eyes, and held them, wanting to ensure she understood him. “Slightly confused is what happens when you are merely standing there, Moira. When you smile, you blind all around you, and leave them happy to be so. And I am not being facetious or flattering. That is truth.”
“Please,” she murmured, looking down, cheeks flaming.
“I am sorry if that bothers you,” he said, trying to meet her eyes again, “but you ought to know these things.”
“But I don’t know that you should say them,” she whispered, her eyes flicking up to his once, and then away again.
Nathan’s heart stilled in his chest. He was the one making her uncomfortable, not his words. She was correct; he should not be the one complimenting her, telling her what a great beauty she was. That was for her betrothed to do. But the git had been gone from her life for so long, and there was no one left to tell her these things.
Still, it was certainly not Nathan’s place.
He smiled kindly at her, in spite of the emptiness he was beginning to feel. “Can’t I say these things as a friend?”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit and she finally met his eyes fully. “I guess I should allow for that. I am sorry, I…” She shrugged. “I’m not accustomed to compliments of any kind, from a friend or not. I’m not accustomed to friends at all.”
Nathan swallowed back a lump in his throat, and put his hand over Moira’s on the table. “Well, you have a friend now, and I will compliment you as I see fit, because that is what friends do. So you will just have to accept it.”
Now it was she who rolled her eyes and grinned. “Oh, very well. But if I gain a large ego from this, I will blame you entirely.”
“Not to worry,” he assured her. “I will stop before your ego can go anywhere.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Cresswell, Mrs. Cresswell, but I have your room all ready for you,” said the innkeeper, suddenly appearing as if out of thin air.
They rose from the table and Nathan led Moira to the stairs. “I think I will stay down here for a while, Felicity,” he said taking her hand. “I should like to have a drink and possibly discuss your brother’s whereabouts with this fine gentleman, once he returns from showing you the room.”
The innkeeper nodded hastily, and Moira bit her lip slightly. “I don’t know if I can wait for you, Matthew. I really am quite fatigued.”
He smiled and kissed her hand. “Very well, then. I hope that you sleep well, and are warm and comfortable. And safe.”
Moira smiled at him warmly, her eyes telling him that she understood exactly what he was saying with his words. She went up on tiptoe and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment. “Good night, husband,” she whispered.
He swallowed hastily, and stammered out, “Good night, wife.”
Moira stepped back, squeezing his hand once, and then she turned and followed the innkeeper up the stairs.
Nathan waited for her to get all the way up before he turned and released the massive breath he had been holding since he did not know when.
He had not suspected that Moira would kiss him. Ever. And she had done it willingly, without prompting, and without need. Whether or not that meant anything was something he could not even consider.
And the touch of her lips on his cheek had sent every single one of his senses reeling. Even now, his heart was racing at the memory, and cohesive thought was very nearly impossible.
This was not good.
“Nate, I think you are in trouble,” he murmured aloud as he ran a hand through his hair. “I think you are seriously in trouble.”
He shook his head, trying to shake off the sudden shaken state he found himself in. He moved back over to the table and sat down, and put his head into his hands, wondering just what was happening to him.
Chapter Eleven
True to his word, Nathan made sure that there was a fine spread for Moira in the morning. She was a good deal more pleasant than she had been the night before as she came down from the room, properly dressed and looking rather well rested.
“Good morning, Felicity,” Nathan said standing as she approached the table where he was.
She smiled warmly at him. “Good morning, Matthew. I didn’t see you this morning.”
He held back a grin at her secret meaning. “Yes, I was up rather early. I did not wish to disturb you.”
Moira clamped her lips together, her eyes dancing. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
He inclined his head and indicated that she sit down, which she did. “And how did you sleep, my dear?”
“Oh, very well,” she said brightly as she watched him fill a plate for her. “It was warm and comfortable, rather as if we were sleeping at home.”
He gave her an incredulous look, but she only smiled. “Well, I do hope this breakfast will be enough to satisfy you, dear. I am not certain that last night’s meal was substantial.”
“It is more than adequate, thank you,” she replied, her eyes showing real gratitude.
Nathan cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded. She really need to stop smiling at him, to stop looking at him like that, to stop being so grateful for things he did. A man could only take so much.
“Did you sleep better this time?” she asked softly, completely oblivious to his consternation.
“Yes, I did. Perhaps I am learning how to relax better.” He threw her a lopsided grin that made her chuck
le.
If he were being truthful, he would have told her that no, he had not slept well. Better than the last time she slept out in the stables? Perhaps. But did he sleep well? Not at all. How could he when he was very much afraid that he was falling in love with her?
It had been after midnight when that realization hit him. It explained everything: why he had been so confused lately, why she could have knocked him over with a blink of those gorgeous blue eyes, why every time she said his name was like music to his ears. He was falling in love with Moira. He should try to resist, he had determined that he would try. Knowing as he did, and had known all along, that they were going to find Moira’s betrothed so that she could marry him and get on with her life… that made things more difficult.
That would make being in love with her agony.
He suddenly realized that Moira was looking at him, an odd expression on her face.
“What?” he asked, a bit defensively.
She swallowed and frowned. “You are not eating anything.”
He shrugged it off. “I am fine.”
“No, I refuse to sit here and eat this delightful breakfast alone. Either you eat something or I will stop and we will leave right now.”
The tone of her voice cracked his pensive mood and he could smile. “You sound like my mother,” he grumbled, taking a piece of ham from her plate.
She grinned in response. “Then I fully expect you to listen to me, is that understood?”
He rolled his eyes as he chewed. “Yes, Mother.” She was a rather overbearing woman, when she wanted to be, but he appreciated the break in his cloudy mood all the same.
“When you have finished,” he said after a while, “I think we would do well to hurry along today. We know that Charles is in Preston, or was six months ago, at least, and so our need for questions is not as great as it once was. We’ve been taking our time, but I think now we must move forward. That is, if you agree?”
Moira seemed to freeze in place for a moment, and she stared at him with wide eyes. He wished he could read them, see what was going on in her head. But if he truly wanted to keep himself from falling in love with her, he needed to stop dwelling on her entirely. He needed to keep his distance. Where he could.
She managed a smile. “I do. We should proceed with all possible speed. I am anxious to find Charles, as you can probably imagine.”
Nathan could not imagine, but he nodded as if he could.
“I’m ready now, if you are,” Moira said, standing up swiftly, not looking at him.
“Very good. Let me just find the innkeeper and pay him.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she snapped, pulling out her reticule. “I am funding this whole venture, so I will pay him.”
“You don’t have to,” he said softly, wondering at her tone. “I can…”
She brushed passed him and headed directly for the innkeeper, who had just come out of the kitchens again.
Nathan watched as she approached the man, who smiled broadly, and took her offered money. He saw his eyes widen and flick back to her, as if he could not believe it. At her nod, he closed his fist around the coins and bowed deeply. Moira curtseyed and turned, met Nathan’s eyes, then swept outside.
What had he said that had set her off? He frowned and followed her outside and noted that she was standing rather impatiently by Flora, waiting for him to help her up. His heart softened a bit at that. She was obviously mad at him, but she was still willing to allow him to help her onto the horse.
Without a word, he formed a lattice with his fingers and helped her up. Once she was situated, she turned Flora and started down the road, not waiting for him.
Well, he had said that he wanted to speed things along, in a way. Now, it appeared, they would be.
And it was all for the best, really.
The silence was deafening.
They had not said a single word in hours, not even to themselves. Moira kept her mouth firmly shut, eyes strictly forward, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth were beginning to ache. But she refused to give in. Why bother forging a friendship any deeper when it was not going to last anyway? It was hardly worth the effort from either of them.
She glanced over at Nathan surreptitiously again, she had been doing so every now and then for a while but he had not caught her yet, and saw that he still looked the same: slightly troubled, weary, and somehow still very handsome. She jerked her eyes back to the road. No, he was not handsome.
Of course, he is, scolded the little voice in her mind. Some would call that a gross insult to find him merely handsome.
She wished that voice would be silent as well. She did not need any more distraction than she already had, and when her own mind was fighting against her will, things got more than a little harried inside.
A noise from up ahead caused her to lift her eyes a bit. There was a carriage off to the side of the road, one wheel obviously broken, and three people stood outside of it.
She looked more closely, and saw that one, an old woman, sank onto a piece of luggage, looking very tired and haggard.
The other two were men, and they were arguing about something, and rather loudly at that. The younger of the men was waving his arms dramatically, while the older one stood with his arms folded, shaking his head.
“What on earth?” Nathan muttered from beside her. He nudged Mercury on a bit faster, and she matched them. “Can we help you?” he asked as they approached.
The older man turned, looking vastly relieved. “I certainly hope so, sir. We’ve broken an axle, as you see, and I’m trying to explain that there is nothing I can do, but it’s pointless. I haven’t a clue what this frog-eater is saying. Ruddy fool only speaks a handful of English words, if you can call them that. Sounds like a bunch of French gibberish to my ears.”
Nathan’s brows shot up and he turned to the younger man, who was red faced and seething. The man instantly started rambling off a stream of angry French, waving his hands just as vividly as before. Nathan dismounted and tried to calm him, in his own excellent French, but the man was not about to listen. He continued to rant and rave quite forcefully.
It was almost comedic to witness. There was Nathan, trying to be calm and placating, but obviously fast losing patience; then there was the Frenchman, angry and agitated and determined to be anything but calm, and interrupting Nathan so often that Moira doubted Nathan completed a full sentence. And then there was the coachman, who was contentedly leaning against his broken carriage, smoking his pipe.
The only person left was that old woman, ignored by the group, sitting all alone behind the lot of them, staring off at nothing. She was dressed from head to toe in black, with the obvious veils of mourning. The lines on her face were not particularly deep, but there were quite a few. Her eyes were dim and downcast, and no one marked her.
Moira heaved a sigh. She would have to reveal a particular secret that she had never intended to. Things were getting to be ridiculous. They were never going to solve anything if this incessant bickering was going to continue. She slid as delicately as she could off of Flora, and marched past the arguing men towards the old woman.
“Bonjour,” she said gently as she approached, taking a seat on the trunk next to her. “Je m’appelle Moira. Les hommes sont impossibles, n’est-ce pas?”
The old woman’s eyes lit up and she turned to face Moira. “Oui, Mademoiselle Moira! Ils n’écoutent jamais!”
Immediately they began a conversation filled with laughter and venting frustrations, all in rapid French. The old woman, Nicole, was traveling with her grandson, Louis, who had inherited his father’s temper, and all she wanted was to find some place to rest her feet, but he would not listen to her. They were headed to London so she might stay for a time with a younger sister, who was married to an English baron, and she was exhausted already.
Moira nodded, then took Nicole’s hand and turned to face the men, only to find all three of them staring at her in stunned silence, mouths ga
ping identically. “Nicole does not care about the coach or anything else,” she announced to the silent gathering. “She just wants a place to rest her feet before they push on to London.”
Nathan closed his mouth and turned to Louis, and spoke to him quickly, then turned to his horse. “I am going to fetch a hack to take the two down to the village we passed not too long ago. They should be able to find boarding there.”
Moira nodded and relayed the message to Nicole, who nodded gratefully, then glared at her grandson, who started sputtering.
“Stay here,” Nathan ordered brusquely as he looked at Moira.
She gave him a look of her own. “Where am I going to go, Nathan?”
He fought for control as he mounted Mercury, and glared right back at her. “Devil if I know,” he gritted out.
Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to argue, but he spun the horse away and rode off at a gallop, kicking up a great deal of dust as he went.
Moira made a noise of frustration, and then felt an old hand take hers. She turned to see Nicole, full of understanding, smiling at her. “Les hommes,” she sighed, shaking her head as she patted her hand.
“Oui,” Moira replied with a shake of her own head. “Les hommes.”
Nathan was not gone very long before he was back with the news that a hack was on its way. He was ready to move on immediately, but Moira was determined not to depart until Nicole was situated comfortably in a coach.
Now he was pacing around waiting for that blasted hack to show up. He was furious. Not only were they unable to proceed at all because of her determination to stay with these people, but she had lied to him. She spoke French! Not only that, she spoke it perfectly! Her accent was absolutely flawless. Even Louis was impressed by it, and it was that alone that made the lad shut up.
Why the act then? Why had she made him spend that entire afternoon suffering through a lesson in French basics when she could have taught him a thing or two? He kicked at a patch of grass, glaring over at her as she chatted with Nicole and Louis, but mostly Nicole as they were both upset with Louis, and pretending as though he were not here at all.
An Arrangement of Sorts Page 13