by Cheryl Holt
Amelia stormed into Captain Hastings’s bedchamber. She didn’t pause to ponder her rash act, but she was so angry, if she’d been holding a pistol, she’d have shot him right between the eyes.
“What have I done now?” he casually inquired.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know!”
“I don’t. Truly.”
He was never home in the middle of the day, so when she’d returned from her failed excursion, she’d been surprised to see a horse tied out front, to hear him tromping about overhead.
He was changing his shirt, and he staggered over to a chair and eased down with a grimace. He looked weary and in pain, and her initial impulse was to coddle him, to ask what was wrong. But she wouldn’t ask!
She had to buck up, had to cease being such a milksop in her dealings with him. From the moment they’d met, she’d permitted him to bully and coerce her in ways she didn’t like, and she couldn’t figure out why.
With any other male, she could stand her ground. With him though, she constantly waved the white flag before the battle had commenced. Her conduct toward him was ridiculous and exasperating, and she was finished with tolerating his intimidation.
“Did you—or did you not—scuttle my chance to lease a cottage?” she demanded.
“Oh, that.” He waved away her comment as if it was of no account.
“You admit it,” she fumed, “to my face?”
“I didn’t scuttle it. The landlord approached me about you.”
“Why would he come to you? You have no connection to me.”
“I warned you no local man would rent to an unattached female.”
“I’m waiting for my brother! I’m hardly unattached!”
“Aren’t you? Once you filled out the application, he stopped by the army office, and they sent him to me.”
“And…?”
“I told him you’re a spinster.”
“I’m not a spinster!” she bellowed.
“You’re twenty-three and unwed. What else would I call you?”
“I’m unwed—by my own choice. It doesn’t make me a spinster.”
He shrugged. “He was anxious to discover if there was a man who would be responsible for you. I informed him you had a brother, but he was at sea, and I had no idea when he’d be able to sign the papers.”
“That’s it? You didn’t happen to raise issues about my character so he reneged?”
He stared at her forever, his gaze tormented, his exhaustion visible. Ultimately, he murmured, “Could we not fight?”
“Tell me what you said to him and tell me this instant!”
“I did tell you, and I’m sorry you’re so upset.”
“He claimed he asked if you would sign, and you refused.”
“Of course I refused.”
“Why would you? You know I have to move.”
“I don’t know that.”
“I was very clear the other night. I can’t stay with you another second.”
“And I was very clear with you. You shouldn’t move, and if you think you are, I’m not about to help you.”
“Am I to be your prisoner?”
He scoffed with offense. “You’re not my prisoner.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re my guest, and you’re watching over my sister and her sister. You’re running my home as we agreed you would. My barracks should be repaired in a few weeks, which is when your brother is scheduled to return. We’ll both head out then.” His expression grew steely. “But not a minute before.”
“My reputation is being destroyed because of you.”
“It is not. You worry too much.”
“You don’t worry at all.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve never let myself be bothered over topics that don’t matter in the slightest.”
“You’re a male, so you can revel and gambol and disgrace yourself without consequence. I, on the other hand, am a female, and I’m not allowed that liberty.”
“It’s why I’ve always been glad I’m a man and not a woman, and I wish you’d calm down.”
“Well, I wish you would jump off a cliff.”
She hated to bicker, hated to bandy insults and hurl invectives. She was a pleasant, rational person—when she was dealing with pleasant, rational people. He simply brought out the worst in her.
Mrs. Bennett had pointed out the cottage Amelia had tried to rent. It had been a lovely little house, with rose bushes along the fence and a tiny garden in the back. It was located up above the harbor, with large windows that faced the water so a cool breeze blew through the rooms.
There were three bedchambers, space enough for her and Evan when he was in port, but for Mrs. Bennett to tarry with them too until she could arrange her affairs.
On seeing it, Amelia had immediately filled out the paperwork. When her request was denied, she’d insisted on being apprised as to why, and the landlord had cited Captain Hastings as the culprit.
She’d never been so irate.
“Goodbye,” she tersely said. “I would tell you it’s been nice knowing you, but it hasn’t been.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the hotel.”
“Are you sure they’ll let you register? Won’t you suffer the same problem you encountered with the cottage?”
“If I thought it was any of your business—and it most definitely is not—I would explain that I will be sharing a suite with Mrs. General Bennett. While I’m there, I shall make overtures at the naval office so I can have them approve the lease you were too much of an ass to authorize for me.”
“Why would I have?” he testily inquired. “I’m not your father or your brother, and you keep reminding me that I have no right to boss you. I heartily concur, so if I’m not in a position to boss you, I’m certainly not in a position to guarantee your housing once you leave my protection.”
“No, you’re not. As I’ve had to remember, over and over again, we have no bond.”
He actually winced. “That’s not true.”
She was raging and couldn’t tamp down her bitter words. “It must be grand to be all alone in the world. You float through it, don’t you? You have no ties, no responsibilities.”
“I’ve always been on my own,” he quietly stated. “I’ve never carried on any other way.”
“Why couldn’t you do this one paltry thing for me? You couldn’t sign a measly lease. Would it have killed you to be kind to me?”
“I suppose not.”
“I’m not begging you to pay my rent. I’m not asking you to watch over me after I depart your company. I’m merely attempting to secure different lodging—by myself, as a competent, adult female—only to learn that your fabulous male help is required. But you wouldn’t give it.”
“Amelia…”
“It’s Miss Boyle to you.”
He sighed. “If it means so bloody much to you—”
“Don’t use vulgar language in my presence.”
“My apologies. If it means so much to you, I’ll talk to the fellow. I’ll try to fix it for you.”
“I won’t have you talk to anyone on my behalf. Not ever. My staying here has been a disaster of monstrous proportions, which you understood would be my reality when you coerced me into remaining. If you start entering into business deals for me, there’s no predicting what additional damage you’ll inflict.”
“You’re angry because I wouldn’t sign the lease, and I’ve agreed to remedy the situation, but you’re angry about that too. What exactly is it that you want from me?”
“Nothing is what I want from you. Nothing at all. I simply stopped by to pack my bags.”
She spun to stomp out, and he said, “Miss Boyle, please. Would you wait? Let’s discuss this.”
“Don’t bestir yourself, Captain Hastings. I’m sure you’re much, much too busy.”
He stepped toward her, when suddenly, his leg buckled, and he collapsed
against the bed.
“Dammit!” he muttered as he caught himself on the mattress.
For a fraught moment, it appeared as if he wouldn’t be able to keep his balance, that he might fall to the floor in a weakened heap. Without thinking, she leapt over and grabbed him. She eased him around so he could sit on the bed.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.
Sweat had popped out on his brow, and pain flared in his eyes. His mouth was a thin line, his breathing irregular.
“A horse kicked me,” he forced out.
“Where?”
“My leg. On my scar, along the calf.”
If he would traipse home in the middle of the day, the incident must have been quite gripping. She should have maintained her ire and shouldn’t have permitted it to wane, but she wasn’t a cruel person and never had been. She liked to imagine—should Evan ever be far from England and in trouble—a kindly woman would aid him.
“Lie back,” she grumbled. “Let me look at it.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”
“Do be silent, Captain. I can’t bear it when you pretend to be invincible.”
She pushed him onto the pillow and tugged off his boot, hating how he grimaced. He was a tough, brave soldier, and the fact that he would exhibit any discomfort had her assuming the injury was very bad.
“Might it be broken?” she asked him.
“No. The blow simply landed on a spot that’s never completely healed, so it was the worst place to receive another wound.”
His trousers were too tight, and she tried to roll up the fabric, but she couldn’t. There was a small dagger on his dresser, and as she retrieved it, he chuckled miserably.
“Are you going to stab me with that?”
“Maybe. It depends on how much more you aggravate me.”
“I’ve been sufficiently chastised by you. I don’t need to be murdered too.”
Before he could tell her not to, she sliced open the material to his knee, and they glanced down, seeing the perfect mark of a horseshoe on his calf. The skin wasn’t cut, but the whole area was swollen and bruised.
“It’s not too bad,” she said.
“It’s not too good,” he grumpily countered, “and you ruined a pair of pants besides.”
“You’re a rich earl, remember? You can buy yourself a new pair.”
He scowled. “You would share an idiotic comment like that.”
His jar of ointment was on the nightstand. She picked it up and removed the lid.
“I’ll slather on some of your salve, then you’ll spend the remainder of the day in bed.”
“I can’t.”
“You can,” she insisted like the sternest governess, “and you will—if I have to tie your wrist to the bedpost to make you stay put.”
“I can’t have word spread that I’m incapacitated.”
“Not even for an afternoon?”
“No, and I’m not really hurt. I’m just tired.”
“Yes, you’re tired, and you should rest for a few hours. I brew a special tea too, so I’ll have you drink some of it. It will dull the ache from the inside.”
“I don’t need old wives’ remedies. I need to return to the stables.”
“In a bit, Captain Hastings. For the moment, you have to allow me to tend you.”
They stared and stared, and he relented first, providing further indication that he was extremely weary. He sank down on the pillow.
“I give up,” he morosely said. “Serve me your magic beverage and coat me with my ointment, but hurry up. I have to get back to work.”
Amelia stood and glared down at him. Her fit of pique had vanished, and her sympathy was raging again. It appeared she wasn’t leaving his home just yet, so she wasn’t certain what was happening.
She suspected—once she nursed him—he’d doze off, and it was the best medicine when a person was ailing. She’d watch over him until his condition improved. How could she not?
“Don’t move a muscle,” she warned.
“As if I could.”
“I’ll just fetch your tea.”
“I can’t wait,” he groused, but he reached out and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
Cursing herself for a fool, she whirled away and went down to the kitchen.
* * * *
James studied Miss Boyle as she finished with his leg. He’d had two cups of her tea. He hadn’t inquired as to what was in it, but he figured she’d slipped in a drop of laudanum to knock him out.
He was a pathetic sight: a boot off, his trouser cut away, his calf swollen and grotesque. His scar was a visible reminder that all men were mortal, and he’d nearly succumbed in the past. Fate and luck had plucked him out of the pile of the dead in Belgium, and he was still alive and kicking.
He was exhausted though, from pretending he was hale, from spending every minute ensuring no one recognized that he was in constant, unbearable pain.
“I’m going to call you Amelia,” he blurted out.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t care what you think about it. I’m going to do it anyway.”
“You’re so bossy. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care about that either.”
He observed as she set her various utensils on the dresser, then she eased a hip onto the mattress.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You have to take a nap now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you like me to send a note to the stables about your situation?”
He frowned. “Gad, no. Besides, several of my assistants were there when it occurred. They saw me limping away.”
“Which I realize you hate, but your career won’t end if you have an afternoon off.”
“It might.”
“It won’t.”
She patted him on the chest, and before she could pull away, he laid his hand over hers, her palm resting directly over his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“For what? For being injured?”
“No. For being so obnoxious at the party the other night. I hurt you, and I was an ass about it later. I never behave as I ought.”
“Then perhaps you should try harder to act sanely.”
“And I never say the right thing. I sounded stupid and cruel.”
“You’re correct about that.”
“Am I forgiven?”
“Water under the bridge, Captain Hastings. Water under the bridge.”
“Would you call me James?”
“I suppose it won’t kill me…James.”
He snorted with amusement. “I’ll sign your lease for you. If it means that much to you, I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I’d rather you stay with me so I can keep an eye on you.”
“If you assume you’ve been watching over me, I must categorically state that you’re awful at your job. You’re never home. I could be dancing naked on the roof and howling at the moon, and you’d have no idea.”
He raised a brow. “Please don’t tell me you have been and I missed it.”
“You can dream about it while you’re sleeping, so take a nap. I won’t argue about it.”
“Will you be here when I awaken?”
“Yes. I promise.”
She smiled a lovely smile, and he smiled too. Time seemed to halt, and outside, it grew very quiet. They might have been the only two people left in the world. He tipped her forward and kissed her, just a quick brush of his mouth to hers. She drew away immediately, her expression scolding.
“We’re not kissing,” she complained. “We aren’t having that sort of relationship.”
“You’re wrong, Amelia. We’re having exactly that sort of relationship.”
“I’m not loose, and you are a libertine with a spurious reputation. I’m not about to carry on wi
th you. There’s no benefit for me.”
“No benefit? You get to dally with me over and over again. Females all over the kingdom would cut off their arm for such a marvelous chance.”
She laughed. “You are very possibly the vainest man I’ve ever met.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“Now go to sleep.”
“Haven’t I told you that I never listen to women?”
“Haven’t I told you that you should start?”
He wasn’t about to spar with her, wasn’t about to continue their pointless conversation. Nor would he shut his eyes so she could sneak out. Currently, she pitied him. She’d forgiven him for his hideous conduct at the party, and with her in a perkier mood, he was eager to take full advantage. After all, when would he ever again be fortunate enough to coax her into his bedchamber?
He cradled her close and kissed her as he’d been anxious to do. He was charmed by her, fascinated by her, and he had to stop fighting his attraction and give in. Evidently, there was something he needed from her, something only she could supply, and she couldn’t be allowed to escape until he figured out what it was.
She groaned with frustration and tried to scoot away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“We’re not misbehaving, James. You’re feeling poorly, so you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’ve never been clearer about what I want, and I want you.”
She’d been sitting on the edge of the mattress, and he dragged her onto the bed so she was stretched out atop him, her lush body crushed to his all the way down. She froze, but didn’t struggle to move away.
“James!” she admonished. “Would you pay attention to me for once?”
“Hush. It will be all right.”
“How can it be?”
With some difficulty, he rolled them so he was on top. He gazed down at her, and his heart seemed to swell in his chest. He was smitten beyond belief, totally and completely bowled over by her, and he had no idea why.
Yes, she was very pretty, but he’d trifled with scores of pretty women in his life. There was an aura about her though that called to him as no other female ever had. He yearned to be closer to her, yearned to bind himself so tightly that they could never be separated.
It made no sense, and he couldn’t imagine why it was occurring, but with his finally getting her precisely where she belonged, he wasn’t about to waste any energy fussing over it.