by Pamela Labud
Somewhere in the depth of his sleep, Michael heard rustling, and a few seconds later he felt the warm body of another next to him. Following his natural inclination, he rolled to his side and pulled his companion toward him, enfolding her into his embrace and doubling their warmth. Drifting back to sleep, he heard Beatrice’s soft sigh and felt her melt into his arms. For a time, he let all of their concerns ebb away.
—
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but Bea woke with a start. Aroused by the sound of rustling trees, birdsong, and a nearby hive of bees, she couldn’t discern where she was, let alone how she’d gotten there. Then, suddenly aware of her surroundings, the events of the past day came rushing into her mind. The ball, her flight from that devil Bainbridge, Michael’s rescue, she and Michael’s flight into the darkness only to be attacked hours later, both of them barely escaping with their lives, and the long, terrible ride to the cottage.
None of that bothered her as much as where she found herself—tucked neatly into a pile of raggedy blankets and in the arms of a man. Well, not just any man.
A solid, strong man. One who both frightened and amazed her. When they’d first met, she’d often dreamed of sharing his bed. Of what he would be like when they made love. Of how a life with him as her husband would be.
“Silly girl,” she muttered under her breath. How could she be such a ninny?
“Mmm.” She heard her friend moan. “Morning already?” he asked, stretching and yawning wide.
Dear heavens, she thought, could he look any more adorable?
“I’m not sure of the time,” she mumbled, scooting away from him and pulling the blanket up against the chill.
“What?” He jumped, suddenly surprised, likely by their both sharing the same pile of straw and his being in such close proximity to a semi-clothed woman.
“Oh dear,” she said, looking down and seeing herself wearing nothing but her shift. “My clothes…”
“…are drying by the fireplace.” He pointed toward the now-dead embers.
It was then that the entire flight from Summerton cut through her sleep-muddled brain.
“You helped me undress…”
“I held up a blanket for you. All very innocent. And, as far as coming to my bed”—he wiggled his eyebrows at her—“that was your decision as well.”
She sent him a scornful glance. “I was cold. Very cold.”
“And I was most accommodating.”
The man could be most aggravating. Bea crossed her arms. “Yes, you were. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
He grinned and, springing from his, uh, their bed, she reminded herself, he went about the cabin, first stoking the fire and then handing her the clothing.
Looking around, she saw the cabin had gone a long time without inhabitants. Well, of the two-legged variety. There were signs of wildlife everywhere. The roof thatching was home to several varieties of birds who, judging by their incessant chattering, were not happy with sharing their home. Also, she could see rat droppings in the corners. Silently, Bea prayed the vermin had decided to move on. She didn’t relish the thought of sharing her bed with companions of the rodent variety.
“Shouldn’t we be going soon?”
“We can’t leave just yet. I’m sorry, but there are things that need tending to. Our horse threw a shoe, so I’ll be fixing that before we go anywhere. And there’s the fact that we have no supplies and I’ve no idea how far we’ll be able to travel without water and food.”
“Oh.” Bea suddenly felt the urge to cry, but the last thing she wanted to do was give in to hysteria. “I see.”
“And then, there’s this.”
Stunned, she watched as he pulled off his jacket and she saw that half of his shirt and sleeve were covered in dried blood.
“When did that happen?”
“When the carriage rolled over,” he told her. “I was stabbed by a tree branch that went through the window.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” she gasped. Walking closer to him, and swallowing back the bile rising in her throat, she saw the dark red hole of his injury.
Now that she got a better look at him in the morning light, she suddenly became aware of several things at once. His usually robust coloring looked more flushed, despite the low temperatures that had her pulling her blanket even tighter around her. A light sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. Reaching out, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead.
“You’ve got a fever.”
He shrugged. “A minor inconvenience, I assure you.”
She shook her head. “I know. You’ve been through worse. Still, we’ve got to get that shirt off you and give the wound a good cleaning.”
“Already trying to remove my clothing? What a scandal, Miss Hawkins. What are you thinking?”
Bea did not let his attempt at humor deter her. “Nonsense. You’ll be no use to me dead, now, will you?”
He nodded reverently to her. “I defer to your most sensible judgment, but first we must locate a clean source of water. If my memory serves, there is a spring about an hour’s walk from here. I’ll take the horse and head that way. I should be back soon.”
“It’s that far away?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Now, let’s get you warmed up. I believe there is a patch of wild strawberries at the bottom of that hill. If we’re lucky, I might even run across some quail eggs.”
Pushing down her mounting concerns, she nodded. “A most delightful breakfast. All we need is tea.”
“I can do many things, dear Beatrice, but magic is not one of them.”
“Of course. You’ve done far too much already.”
He bowed low and reminded her of the fine figure he’d cut the very first time they’d been introduced. A stab of regret went through her. Their flight and his injury were two more things that she could have avoided had she gone the path her family had so badly wanted to set her upon.
“Michael,” she said as he turned away from her.
“Yes?”
She was going to tell him thank you, for risking his life and now thinking only of their survival. But the sight of him took her breath away. The way his gaze wandered over her, warmed her in a most unexpected way. She couldn’t decide if it was the set of his jaw, or the width of his shoulders, or even his attitude of roguish confidence that affected her so.
“Do try not to injure yourself further.” She held her breath.
He looked at her a moment. “It’s not as if I intended to get hurt in the first place.”
“I know, but it seems you do get hurt quite often.”
He grinned. “You’re worried about me?”
“Of course I am. You’re my brother-in-law’s friend, after all. I mean, he’d be most upset if something terrible were to happen to you.”
“He would be? And you, Beatrice? Would you be upset as well?”
Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Beatrice suddenly felt as if some sort of challenge had been issued and she was very much at a disadvantage.
“I certainly don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Ah. Then you do care.” With that he winked at her and then ducked out of the cottage.
Bea suddenly felt as if the floor had opened up beneath her. “That devil,” she muttered, still staring at the spot where he’d been standing.
Of course she cared about him. She had from the very first night they’d met. But the expression he’d given her had suggested he knew the very secrets of her soul. The blasted man had unsettled her once again.
Well, now it was her turn to challenge him. She only had to figure out how to do it.
—
After gathering breakfast for them, which included both the strawberries and four eggs he’d found not far from the cabin, he luckily found a narrow stream at the back of the property. Barely trickling, it would do for the moment. Though not as grand as was the habit at Summerton, he’d managed to boil th
e eggs over the fire in a pot that had been left over the fireplace.
“Not a bad meal, eh?” he said. In spite of the nausea that stirred in his gut, he did his best to remain cheerful. He knew his fever was getting worse and he should have taken care of his shoulder, but he wanted to make sure she’d gotten some food and water in her. One of them would have to remain strong, after all.
“It’s good,” she told him once they’d finished. “I do wish that we’d gotten some of our clothes from the carriage at least,” she told him, rubbing her arms and putting more branches on the fire.
“Sorry, there wasn’t time…”
He started to stand but a wave of dizziness came over him.
“Here,” she said, suddenly at his side, helping him to the cot. “Your fever is worsening. It’s time we took care of your shoulder.”
“I can’t argue with that, though I have to admit, I’m not looking forward to it.”
Once he was lying down, Beatrice took the pot of now-cooling egg water and set it on the bench beside her. She paused a moment and looked over the wound.
“I suppose we’ll have to get that shirt off first.”
He nodded, and even that small effort made his gut roil.
“It’ll be best to dampen it with warm water and then gently pull it away.” Holding his breath, he tensed while she set to work.
“I’m so sorry,” she said once she’d begun to gently pull the fabric.
“Argh!” he grunted as she gave it a final tug, freeing the cloth and the clotted blood from his tender wound.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “Sorry. I think that’s the worst of it.”
“Good.” He let out a breath and steeled him for the question he must ask. “Is the branch still stuck in the wound?”
She sent him a worried expression. “It is. I don’t know how big it is or how deep. What should I do?”
Licking his lips dry, Michael did his best to ignore the throbbing pain. “You have to pull it out. Then irrigate the wound. I don’t think we have any cloth to spare for a field dressing.”
“I’ll use my shift. It should do nicely.”
He faltered. In spite of his current condition, he found the thought of a shiftless Beatrice to be most disturbing.
“Are you sure you should do that? I mean, you’ve need of your undergarments, after all.”
“If I were attending a party, yes, but here in the wilderness? Who’s going to question it?”
He let out a breath and did his best to calm his careening thoughts. “Of course, you’re correct. I was shot in Spain, you know. The other arm. No lovely lady there to care for it, though. The medic was a most disturbing fellow who had the appearance of a skeleton himself and breath that would knock down an ox.”
“Tell me about the war,” she said.
He gasped as she began pushing around the wound. “It’s not a fit discussion for a lady.”
“You don’t have to tell me the gory details, but surely there was more than that. What about army life?”
Bless her, Michael thought. She was doing her best to distract him. He’d never doubted that she was an intelligent woman, and she was fast proving herself not one of those wilting flowers like many young women of the ton.
“Very well. One of my happiest moments was learning that I was going to be serving in Ash’s regiment, under his command. I know you think him a bit stiff, but he truly is a great leader. Takes his service to heart, and he cared very much for the men who served under him.”
It was then that she gave a quick yank and he swore that she’d torn his arm from his body.
“By the gods,” he gasped, a white-hot sheet of pain enveloping him. At the same moment, he felt the meal they’d just finish rise up from his gut. It was all he could do not to vomit, clamping his jaw and moaning.
“Here,” she said. “Turn on your side. Can’t have you choking, now, can we?”
Barely able to move, his shoulder spasmed with pain. “Can’t move.” He clenched his jaw.
“Right.”
Leaning over him, she gently pulled the blanket from behind him, tipping him forward and settling him on his right side.
Though the small move ratcheted up his agony for a few seconds, once she had him settled, it eased a bit.
“Is that better?” she asked in a hopeful tone.
He swallowed. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good. I’m going to fetch some more straw to put behind you so you won’t roll back. Can you stay in this position while I do?”
Unable to speak, he nodded and gripped the side of the cot.
“Good.” He felt her move away from him and instantly missed her presence. Silly, he thought, because it wasn’t as if she was leaving him, after all.
He wasn’t really sure what happened next. He felt twinges of pain here and there and realized she was dressing his wound. Then he felt the horse blanket go over him. Closing his eye because he could no longer keep it open, he mouthed a thank-you but was sure she hadn’t heard him.
Time passed and he felt her presence, as surely as the warmth from the fireplace or the sounds of the night gathering all around them.
Some time after that—he couldn’t be sure how long—he thought he felt Beatrice slipping beneath the blanket to lie beside him. She was hesitant at first, but a few seconds later she scooted in to lie against his back and then slipped her arm about his waist, gently anchoring herself against him.
This must be what Heaven was like, he thought, absorbing her warmth and enjoying the closeness of her. Never in his life had any woman been so amazing. If he hadn’t been taken by her already, he would have fallen in love that very moment.
If that wasn’t enough, he heard her sigh behind him.
“Michael?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
“Do try not to die tonight.”
“I shall do my utmost to stay alive.”
“Good.”
He might have dreamed it, but he felt her lean forward and place a gentle kiss at the back of his neck.
“Scandalous woman,” he muttered, teasing her.
“Insufferable man,” she answered back, nestling in behind him.
Michael sighed. It was well worth getting himself stabbed by a tree branch if it meant having Beatrice so close to him. He wondered what it would take for her to accept his marriage proposal. Losing a limb, perhaps?
Well, he thought, drifting off to sleep, hopefully he could come up with a much less drastic measure than that. But, then again, what wasn’t worth risking when it came to winning Beatrice’s love?
Chapter 6
Thankfully, they’d both slept a few hours before Michael aroused again before dawn. Though she knew he was doing his best not to wake her, she felt him tense beside her.
“Michael?”
He sighed. “So sorry to have awakened you,” he said. “Perhaps if I return to my pile of straw…”
“You are not moving from this cot,” she ordered. “If anything, I should be the one moving.”
“No, please don’t. It’s not you, really. Just having a tough go of it. I’m not used to sleeping long hours in the rough. Army training, I guess.”
He was lying, and Beatrice well knew it. Still, she had to let the man have his pride.
“Tell me about your childhood,” he said, mumbling beside her.
“Michael, you shouldn’t be awake. You need to rest.”
His breath became ragged. “Can’t,” he told her.
“It’s the pain, isn’t it?”
Opening his eye, he gave her a watery glance. “It’s a bit achy. One of the best treatments I’ve found in the past is to engage in a lively conversation.”
“Now?”
“Please,” he said. “Tell me about yourself. Your childhood, for instance.”
“And that will help?”
Michael grimaced. “It will indeed.”
Seeing the brave face he put on, Bea couldn’t refuse him. If only she’d had something to e
ase his pain.
“Oh. Let’s see. My childhood was quite normal, boring, I would say. We lived most of it in a small cottage. Um, I think you know of it.”
“Ah, yes,” he told her. “I went with Amelia to fetch your mother the night of Ash and Caroline’s wedding. A good night, that was, eh?”
Bea smiled. “It was grand, wasn’t it? Or, perhaps not such an event as the ones you’ve attended, but I found it most enjoyable, seeing my sister wed.”
“I did enjoy seeing Ash leg-shackled as well. Though I have to admit, I was rather jealous of him. To have a fine wedding and a wife such as Caroline.”
Bea drew a breath. “But that’s possible for anyone, isn’t it?”
She heard him hesitate. “For most, certainly, and for you, absolutely.”
“But not for you?”
A silence fell between them, hovering there as if some ghost had entered into their presence.
“No,” he said at last. “Not for me.”
“I don’t understand. You’ll make a fine husband, I’m sure.” She slipped out from behind him and then knelt down beside the cot, pulling the blanket back to get a better look at his wound. The dressing was stained with dried blood, but it appeared to be secure.
“Me? A fine husband? That’s something I’ve never heard from a woman before.” He chuckled, but it looked as though that caused him even more discomfort.
“Well, you would be if you’d cease your gambling, dueling, and womanizing.”
“Never,” he quipped.
He coughed and huddled on his side. She could tell that his movement was very painful, but she suspected the injury to his shoulder was only part of it.
“Here, try to stay still,” she said, fearing that if he moved too much, he would tear his wound open and start it bleeding again. And she had only so much of her shift left, after all.
“You are too kind,” he said, though his breath was coming shorter and she saw that he was becoming more and more restless.