Forget Me Not

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  “Could I offer you a bite to eat as well?”

  Lydia’s mouth watered with the promise of food and her stomach roared.

  Without releasing her, Brian followed Harvey and Anna into the cottage. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Baker.

  The home was simple but charming in nature. Natural light filtered through tall paned windows illuminating the two main rooms of the downstairs. A small parlor sat to the left of a narrow hallway, a larger kitchen was positioned at the back of the house, and a narrow staircase was nestled between the two rooms. The cottage was not as grand as the manor she’d grown up in, but an atmosphere of home stemmed from every corner of the structure. Her heart ached with longing. She’d never known a real home. She’d lost her mother at the age of five and her father was always gone with his military career or a new business scheme. Mere months after the untimely death of his wife, Sir William married Olivia attempting to provide a mother for Lydia. Her stepmother tried, loved her in her own way, but it simply wasn’t the same. Olivia had no children of her own, and Lydia keenly sensed an element of resentment.

  “Mrs. Donnelly? Mrs. Donnelly?”

  It took several moments for Lydia to realize Anna Baker addressed her. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mrs. Baker, you were saying?”

  “Will you be in need of some proper clothes then?”

  Her cheeks grew warm and a self-conscious hand fluttered to her breast. “I am afraid so.” She glanced pleadingly to Brian who merely smirked noncommittally. “It’s a rather long story.”

  “Well, you can tell us all about it over a bite of supper.” Anna bustled to the staircase. “In the meantime I have some of my daughter’s old clothes in the spare bedroom. Come along you two.”

  Lydia eagerly followed, embarrassment of her attire surpassed only by the desire to be rid of the dreaded garments. Brian hesitated.

  “Mr. Donnelly—”

  “Call me Brian, please, Mrs. Baker.”

  Anna beamed her delight. “Of course, Brian. In any case you’d best come along with your wife, she’ll need help with her stays, and you’ll need to see where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”

  “Ma’am, we could not impose on you for more than is absolutely necessary,” Brian protested instantly.

  “For the man who saved my husband’s life it is no imposition at all. Besides, we don’t often get visitors out here and I would love to hear how the two of you came to be traipsing along the road with no horse, no supplies, and she without clothes.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Brian’s voice echoed through the narrow stairwell.

  His very essence surrounded Lydia, his rumbling voice, the thud of his footfalls, she would swear even his masculine scent inundated her senses. The thought of his helping her dress left her teetering and off balance, her pulse hammered, her palms were slick, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Her brain burned with the knowledge she may have, as her father would say, charged into the enemy lair with naught but your trousers and a gardening tool by claiming herself as his wife.

  Within minutes Mrs. Baker provided a simple blue empire dress, the necessary undergarments, and closed the bedroom door behind them. Lydia’s eyes riveted to the single bed emulating from the center of the room. She gulped. Oh, yes, she had indeed set herself up for more than she’d bargained for. Certainly Brian wouldn’t expect her to share the bed with him. Surely he would behave as a gentleman… sleep on the floor, or—

  “How can I be of assistance, wife?” A thick and very manly finger traced the length of her spine. Lydia nearly hit the ceiling. “Would you be needin’ help with the task of takin’ yer clothes off?” His broad hands found her shoulders, and intoxicatingly warm breath breezed across her ear. “Puttin’ them on?” Heat radiated from his chest and into her back as he moved even closer. Brian’s fingers slid beneath the shirt lining her throat. “Or both?”

  It was too much. Snatching away from his probing, provoking hands she clamped the front of her shirt securely in front of her. “Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Donnelly.” Gentleman, pah!

  He chuckled, a mischievous smirk rolling over his mouth. “Mr. Donnelly is it now? I’m hurt to think me own wife won’t use my given name.”

  “Oh! Shove off, Brian.”

  “So we’re back to Brian then?” He winked provocatively, folding brawny arms across his chest. Muscles fairly bulged from every surface of his body. She’d never seen a man so generously well-built. He looked like a god standing before her, broad shoulders relaxed forward, his trim waist feeding into equally trim hips; his stance exuded an exhilarating confidence. “And ye still haven’t answered my question, just what do you need me to do, wife?”

  The man was insufferable and enjoying her discomfort entirely too much. “Stop calling me that,” she spat, putting the distance of the room between them, looking everywhere but his entirely too perfect frame. How had she come to be here, like this, with him? She was a proper young woman, and proper young women did not have these conversations with single men. “I only said we were married because a married couple traveling alone through the countryside is much less conspicuous than our true circumstances.”

  “I agree.”

  “And just how would you have introduced me?”

  “You, Miss Impatient, will never know.” He flopped across the bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Are you plannin’ to get dressed anytime soon, love? I’m famished.”

  Icily she glared at him. “Turn. Around.”

  An exaggerated sigh whooshed from his lungs. “If I must.” Grudgingly he sat, let his gaze wander the length of her, and swung his legs around the edge of the bed, back squarely to her.

  Eyeing him suspiciously she ensured he wouldn’t be pulling anymore tricks, quickly shucked the old clothes and dragged a shift over her head. Lifting the worn but serviceable set of stays she chewed her lip apprehensively, her eyes flicked to Brian waiting patiently on the edge of the bed. It would be impossible for her to successfully lace the stays without his help. Oh, God, I cannot do this, she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. A man had never seen her in her underclothes. Steeling her courage, she wiggled into the stays, and pulled a petticoat up over her waist.

  “Uh, Brian?” She cleared her throat. “Could you, um, turn around please? I need your help.”

  His broad back pivoted and her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t want him to see her this way, or… did she? Reluctantly she admitted her apprehension did not stem from the thought of him seeing her under such inappropriate circumstances, but the thought of him further mocking her, or finding her undesirable. Her heart slammed with such force she was sure her ribs would crack. Brian stood to face her with none of the earlier teasing mirrored in his expression. His eyes, so perfectly green, burned into hers. He looked as unsettled as she. Slowly he crossed the room an expression akin to pain, perhaps panic, marring the lines of his face. Lydia didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Of course I’ll help, love.” His tone was soft and spread over her like butter and cream. This man’s voice was better than any physical caress.

  She showed him her back, lifting the heavy mane of hair from her back. His fingers danced nimbly over the ties, and her flesh burned through the shift where his knuckles grazed. “You seem to have had plenty of practice lacing women’s under things,” she taunted.

  Brian coughed, choked, and finally cleared his throat. Lydia smirked, secretly pleased to have knocked him off balance. “You don’t really want me to answer that, Miss Lydia.”

  The stays in place she turned a cheeky smile to him. “I suppose a gentleman would never kiss and tell.”

  He moved forward so quickly she gasped, her back slamming against the wall. He leaned over her, arms braced on either side. “And who is to say I am a gentleman?” he murmured huskily, a cloud of palpable danger enshrouding him.

  Voice trembling she replied, “Would you have me believe you are a rogue then, Mr. Donnelly?” Her eyes dipped
to his lips just inches from her own.

  Brian’s head tilted, his gaze dragging the length of her face, down her throat to the gentle swell of her breasts. “What would you like for me to be?”

  Her breath hitched in panic. A man had never looked at her this way; as though the whole of the world ceased to exist save for the two of them. All she knew was the heat of his body, the steady in and out of his breathing, and the intense smoldering of his eyes. Heat flushed through her. She was on fire. For him. And in a way she’d never known to fantasize about.

  “While you decide,” he murmured, scraping his feet slowly backward, “I suggest you finish dressing so we don’t keep our hosts waitin’ overly long.”

  Lydia snatched the empire gown off the chair back hardly caring if he watched her finish dressing. Within moments her appearance assumed a level of normalcy but the storm roiling within her body was yet to calm.

  Brian stopped her at the bedroom door. “Harvey and Anna will probably ask how long we’ve been married and questions of the like. I plan to tell them we’re newlyweds, as for the other questions just let me answer them, all right? I don’t want them gettin’ wise to our disguise.” He turned toward the door, but pulled back at the last moment. “One other thing,” he murmured, a thoughtful expression adorning his face. Deftly he plucked a thin leather cord from his neck and slid a simple gold band into his palm. Funny she hadn’t seen it hidden beneath his shirt sooner. “This was me mothers.” He rolled the ring between thumb and forefinger, reaching for her left hand. “You should wear it for as long as we’re pretendin’ to be married.”

  Lydia’s breath caught as he slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Slowly he stroked a thumb across the band, his grasp gently tightening on her fingers. “All right,” she breathed unable to tear her gaze from their joined hands. Suddenly she was overtly aware of just how tall he was, of the little tingles dancing up her arm. She looked up. “All of my jewelry was stolen, why was this not taken as well?”

  “It’s worthless.” Abruptly he released her hand, and jerked the door open.

  She shook off the thrill running up her spine and followed. “Oh, and Brian?”

  He glanced back to her, expression impossible to gauge.

  “A bit of both.”

  “Excuse me?” he quirked a brow in obvious confusion.

  “To answer your question, I should like you to be a bit of both gentleman and rogue.”

  He grinned, and tossed her a mischievous wink. “Good answer, Lydia, a very good answer.”

  The smell of food wafted through the small house and Lydia decided no more enticing scent had ever tickled her nostrils. It was all she could do to smile politely at Harvey and Anna as she took a seat opposite Brian and wait to be served. Fortunately her grumbling stomach did not have to wait long and the fare was delicious. Never before had she thought of mutton stew as divine, but she reckoned there is first time for everything, and ate with voracity.

  “Hungry, love?”

  She raised her eyes from the plate to see Brian biting back obvious convulsions of amusement. She dropped the spoon, mortified by her display of poor manners. “I am so terribly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Baker, my manners are not usually so slovenly.”

  “On the contrary,” Brian grinned, “I have never seen anyone, much less a woman, eat with such speed accompanied by impeccable manners.”

  She glowered across the table at him, thoroughly annoyed. How dare he mock her? They’d already imposed upon the hospitality of his friends enough. Her cheeks would now be flaming for a month.

  “Anna,” Harvey ignored the exchange, “why don’t you fetch us some of that pie and Brian can tell us the tale of how these young lovers came to be on our stoop with nary a possession to their name.”

  “Please, let me help.” Lydia instantly began to rise.

  “Non-sense, child, you sit and rest, I can see to the pie.” Anna bestowed her with a genuine smile for the first time that day, and bustled cheerily from the room.

  Harvey kicked back in his chair and glanced conspiratorially between Brian and Lydia. “Now, before I hear your telling, let me have a go at guessing what ails you.” A wide grin split his jolly face. “I’d wager the pair of you went to Scotland to get married, and you had not a farthing to your name because her old man—” he jerked a thumb toward Lydia, “—caught the two of you, shall we say, together.” He waggled a suggestive brow toward Brian who responded with a sheepish shrug. Harvey howled with laughter. “My old friend Brian Donnelly had to run off to get married after being caught with his trouser around his ankles! Ho! I never would have thought it, my boy, not in a hundred years.”

  “Well, Harvey, ye thought wrong.” Brian splayed his hands as though the facts were plain as day. “Of course, what with the wee one on the way, I really had no choice.”

  Lydia spluttered in protest, mouth flopping open in blatant disbelief. For once the heat drained from her cheeks. “How, how dare you!”

  “Come now, me lovely, ye can’t expect to keep the babe a secret forever.” Brian proceeded to regale the Baker’s with tales of their exploits, weaving an entertaining yarn of how they’d met and narrowly escaped her father’s murderous rage to be married. Mortified, Lydia did her best to spear him with daggered glares, but he only grinned across the table, winking without a care in the world.

  He would pay for this later.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Lydia scraped her chair loudly across the thick planks of the kitchen floor. “I am going to bed.” She barely caught the words I’ve had quite enough of this masquerade from slipping out.

  “Aye.” Brian followed suit. “It has been a long day. Harvey, Mrs. Baker, my wife and I cannot thank you enough for the hospitality.”

  “No problem at all, Brian. Will you be needin’ supplies to see you to the next village?”

  Brian hesitated, and Lydia understood his reluctance to take any more from his friend. “We couldn’t think to impose on ye anymore. The meal and a warm bed is more than enough.”

  “It wouldn’t be an imposition, son, in fact I have an offer, a trade, if you can spare a day. There is a length of fence to the north of my property needs mending, but I can’t get it done on my own. I’d be willing to trade a few days’ supplies for a day of your labor.”

  Brian locked eyes with Lydia. She shrugged in response to his silent question.

  “We could spare a day,” he nodded. “I’ll be up early to get started.”

  “Good man.”

  The door to the bedroom closed and Lydia was more than ready to unleash her fury. “How could you do that to me? How could you tell them I was pregnant? We aren’t even married and I would have you know, sir, that I have never done—” she squirmed uncomfortably, searching her sheltered vocabulary for the appropriate word, “—that with a man.”

  “Glad to hear it, but it’s really none of my business.” He shrugged with nonchalance, sat on a corner of the bed, and began pulling his boots off.

  Oh! The man was impossible!

  He stood to untuck his shirt and caught her glowering stare. “What? It was you who told them we were married.”

  She narrowed her eyes murderously at the reminder.

  “I couldn’t very well tell them we’re on the run for witnessin’ a murder. Knowin’ the truth could put them in danger. Now if any of Keith’s men come asking questions they’ll not bat an eye at the tale of a young couple run off to the Gretna Green.”

  “Except for the fact the Baker’s know your real name. Felix’s men will hear the name Brian Donnelly and know we’ve been here.”

  “Seeing as Harvey and I served three long years together I could hardly give him a false name.”

  Stubbornly crossing her arms, Lydia refused to concede any measure in the argument. After his behavior at dinner Brian didn’t deserve condescension.

  “Look, I admit to getting’ a bit carried away at dinner, but I wanted to lay our story on thick.”

  “Rest ass
ured, Brian Donnelly, I will make you pay for the yarn you spun tonight.”

  He beamed, rising to the challenge. “I thought ye wanted a rogue, Miss Lydia.”

  “I said I’d prefer you were a gentlemanly rogue.”

  A bark of laughter escaped him as he dragged the blue work shirt over his head, chucking it into a corner. “I’m afraid such a man does not exist, love.”

  Lydia opened her mouth to protest further, but the words fizzled on her tongue. Brian stood before her, a mildly amused expression adorning his handsome face, waiting for her to continue, but she was mesmerized by the vivid sight of his naked chest. Smooth sun bronzed skin stretched taut over straps of thick corded brawn. Muscles rolled across his shoulders wrapping down his arms and over his chest. His abdomen was flat and firm with yet more hardened muscles rippling along his ribs down to the line of his trousers. She’d seen workman in the fields with their shirts off a time or two, but never so close, and never like this.

  “I, uh—” she sought to tear her eyes away from him, at the very least look into his eyes, but words and actions remained just beyond reach. At last he stepped back, turning toward the bed. “Wait,” she cried in alarm as he reclined on the left side. “What are you doing?”

  “Goin’ to bed, love.”

  “Not with me.”

  “Where would ye have me go then?” He gestured obtusely about the modest room before settling back on the quilt, eyes closed. “If it’s any consolation I have no intention of ravishing you in the night.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I’ll keep me trousers on as well.” He rolled to the side folding the single pillow beneath his head. “You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor, love, ye can even have the quilt.”

  “Oh!” She stomped across the room. “Is that so?” Kneeling on the lumpy mattress she put her hands to his back and heaved.

  Brian’s eyes flew open as he teetered on the edge of the bed. Too late he shifted to his back and slipped off the foundation, dragging Lydia down as he fell. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs, Lydia landing squarely on top of him. With a gulp she scrambled to her knees, but Brian’s hands gripped her in a steely vice, locking her against his chest.