A Most Delicate Pursuit (8 page)

“Of course,” she said, jumping to her feet and returning a moment later with a cup for him. As relieved as he was to have her move away, a part of him really wished she'd stayed. The same part that wanted her in his arms more than ever. The part that would have him begging for her attentions and making an utter fool of himself.

More than that, Beatrice had decided what to do with her life. Though he'd wanted nothing more than to ravage her like a randy teenager, he respected her far too much to even suggest such a thing. One thing he knew for certain is that the sooner he got her to agree to marry him and send her back to her family, the less time there'd be for him to lose control over his baser nature.

Lose control.

What was it about her that affected him so? Never in his life had he been so ready to change himself so completely. More than that, even now when she was out of his sight, he felt like a part of him had gone missing.

The thought of being without Beatrice left him cold, and that bothered him greatly. Before, when he'd been engaged and later married, he'd still remained a man alone. Aloof. Separate. But with Beatrice, if he let her into his heart, he knew he would never be able to live without her again. It wouldn't just change his single status. It would change him completely. And though he'd long wanted to be that sort of man—a man in love, like Ash, for instance—he also feared it more than anything.

What if he failed with Beatrice as he had failed everyone else in his life?

But then, what if he didn't?

In the end, it was that small hope that sustained him. More than that, he wanted to be the man Beatrice needed him to be—one who wouldn't ever fail her, who wouldn't use her to his own ends, but instead a man who would love her in the way she deserved to be loved.

He'd risk everything for Beatrice, no matter the cost. Of course, she could refuse him once again, and he'd accede to her wishes. He wasn't like Bainbridge—he would not force a woman into marriage. It would break his heart, for certain, but she was worth all that and more.

So the only thing for him to do was prove his love for her and hope that she, too, would fall in love with him.

He would have to mount a campaign to earn her love. Michael had been an excellent soldier and a clever tactician. If any man alive could earn her love, he knew it was him. From that moment on, he would double his efforts to win her heart.

Beatrice couldn't believe her good luck. One would think that fleeing one's home in the middle of the night, only to be attacked and nearly killed later, would be a terrible run of misfortune. As a rule, she would have heartily agreed.

But since those harrowing events had happened two days earlier, she'd had enough time to consider more than her running away from home. As a result of her perils, her resolve and her strength had been tested. In spite of her being frightened out of her wits, she'd managed to follow Michael's directions to the letter. She'd endured terrible weather and being lost in the wilderness. She'd proved herself most useful at tending to her companion when he might very well have died without her intervention.

In short, she'd learned that whatever came against her, she would manage to overcome it.

More than that, however, was the very opportunity their present situation accorded her. Michael was an excellent outdoorsman. He'd fought in the war and had been pushed beyond the limits of endurance. He could survive in the wild, and very likely thrive in it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Michael asked her as he worked on sharpening the end of a particularly sturdy stick he meant to turn into an arrow.

“I am. I believe knowing how to care for oneself is more valuable than any of the skills I've learned thus far. I mean, there are savages in America. Or I might have to defend myself from a bear. I'm quite sure speaking seven languages and playing the piano forte will be of no use in a fight.”

Michael smiled. “Of course. Still, if you do find yourself about to be abandoned, do try to get a message out. No matter where you are, Beatrice, I assure you, Ash and I will come to your rescue.”

She crossed her arms. “I'm sure you would, but being months away and having to cross an ocean, I need to stay alive until you get there.”

“True. Very well. Let me see what I can find that will work as string for a bow.”

She watched him dig into the chest and became mesmerized by his tall, lean, and muscular form. Fascinated by the way his muscles moved under his skin, it puzzled her why she'd never really noticed the wide span of his shoulders or how his body narrowed to his waist. And when she looked down to the juncture where his back ended in his firm, round bottom, well, it absolutely made her mouth go dry.

The room went warm around her and Beatrice started to fan herself. She'd been attracted to men before, and Michael in particular. But this was different. Since they'd landed in this broken-down cottage, it was all she could do to keep away from him. Impossible to do, for the most part, but made even worse when she thought of touching him. Suddenly she wanted to sit next to him, to hold his hands, to lean in for a kiss…

Beatrice shook herself. What in Heaven's name was she thinking? Michael had proven on more than one occasion that he'd not wanted an entanglement from her. The way he'd always managed to slip away when they'd unexpectedly met at parties, or how he'd sit the farthest away from her when he'd come to dine with Ash and Caroline. She was not a fool or a child. She easily understood his discomfort whenever they'd been thrown together.

And now, it must have been utter torture to be forced to not only spend time with her but be forced to let her tend to his wound.

“Brava,” he shouted, rising up from the floor. “I've found a good measure of bowstring. Fortunately for us, the cottage's former inhabitants left us a generous amount of hemp with which to string our bow.”

“Really?” Beatrice moved to peer over his shoulder. “I went through that chest myself and I saw nothing of the kind.”

Michael laughed. “Of course not. There's a false bottom, see?”

“How very clever of them,” Bea said as she leaned in closer. “Look! There are more knives.”

“And a pistol with gunpowder,” he said, pulling out the gun and the small pouch. “Good show.”

She was so delighted that when he turned to her, Bea threw her arms around his neck. For a few seconds, the joy of their find overcame them both.

“We might just survive this caper after all.” He laughed.

She smiled, pulling back. When she looked up at him, their gazes locked and it seemed an eternity passed while they hung suspended in the moment.

“Yes,” she said at last, looking away. “I need to fetch fresh water,” she said and practically ran from the room.

What am I doing? Walking to the creek's edge, Bea spied a rock set against a tree. Taking advantage of the shady spot, she sat down for a moment.

What had just happened?

“Beatrice,” Michael said, suddenly behind her.

Jumping to her feet, she turned to face him. “I…,” she began, but her words failed her.

“You forgot your bucket,” he said, and held it out to her.

Beatrice took a breath before reaching out to take it. “How silly of me. I swear, my head must be frolicking in the clouds.”

The moment she touched the handle, he pulled her close and, embracing her with his good arm, leaned down and kissed her.

At first, she was shocked by his action, but then his kiss felt so good, so right, she let herself go and kissed him back. It was a deep, passionate joining between them—the likes of which she'd never known before.

As quickly as it had started, Michael pulled away and stepped back. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I couldn't help myself, even though I knew it was wrong. It won't happen again.” Stiffening his spine, he turned to walk away.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why can't it happen again?”

He turned back to her. “Because I will not ruin your life, Beatrice.”

“Ruin it? What makes you say such a thing?”

He shook his head. “I have my reasons. And, as much as I'd love nothing more than for us to become…more acquainted, I can't allow it.”

“You have feelings for me?”

Shaking his head, he let out a breath. “It doesn't matter what I have. I'm not the measure of man that you deserve.”

Beatrice choked back a sob. “You're wrong. I'm not what you think.”

He shook his head. “It was wrong for Ash to send me on this mission.”

“Wait.” Beatrice stepped back. “Is that what this is to you? Another mission?”

He looked at her, his eyebrows arched. “Did you think it was anything more? I'm here as a favor to my commanding officer, Beatrice. You and I have been pleasant acquaintances, but hardly more. I apologize. I lost my head.”

“I see.”

“No. I'm afraid you don't. My behavior was unforgivable but not intentional. Considering our perilous journey, my injury, and days without proper food and shelter have combined to cause an error in my judgment. I assure you, it will not happen again.”

Beatrice didn't think it possible, but her heart was breaking all over again.

Once he'd returned to the cottage, Michael shut the door and laid his head against the frame. How could he have let it happen? It had happened too fast. His kiss had been too strong. Ash had asked for him to coax her into marriage, but forcing himself on her, he'd very likely frightened her away.

And yet, the kiss had been well worth it. In truth, since they'd first met, he'd dreamed of kissing her. What man wouldn't? She was perfection and like any healthy man, he'd wanted to taste her, inhale her, and enjoy her. What disturbed him most was the inappropriate timing of his advance.

He'd meant to win her heart but he was behaving like a boorish animal. A proper gentleman would never have let his baser nature take over. He should have known he was not the man for her. He could never be “that” man.

What a fool he'd been to think it was even possible.

He hadn't lied to either Ash or Beatrice. It could never work for them. She was too innocent and he too jaded. Best to put things to right between them and get her to her destination as soon as possible. Though the last thing he wanted to do was send her away, perhaps she'd been right about it all along. Putting her on a ship in Portsmouth might be the best answer after all.

“Michael,” she said.

God, he thought, she was a vision. Her golden hair flowing around her face, half fallen from its pins and making her look more like a woodland nymph who'd never ventured beyond the forest rather than a young woman of the ton.

“Yes?” he asked, holding his breath, waiting for her to berate or even strike him at any second.

Setting the bucket of water by the hearth, she smiled up at him, wearing a serene expression. For a brief moment, he thought perhaps the events of a few moments ago might not have happened at all. Perhaps they'd been conjured by his feverish mind.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. Of course, you've been ill and I should never have thrown myself at your head.”

“But, it was I…”

“I know you began the kiss, but I most certainly encouraged it to continue. You were right. We've been forced to endure much these last few days and it's understandable that either one of us could take missteps along the way.”

Michael studied her for a moment, watching for any sign that she might be playing him false. He knew there were women who were most ingenious in their manipulation of men, Constance Merriweather being one of them.

But his suspicions were immediately extinguished by her waving him off.

“Really, Michael, don't be so serious. It was just a kiss, after all.”

Michael swallowed. Was it possible that he'd not ruined his chances?

Once again, he'd underestimated the measure of the woman before him. She was an incredible, resilient creature and he was a bumbling fool.

Her statement shocked him almost as much as her response to his kiss. “Of course,” he said, nearly losing his footing in the process. Not knowing what else to do, he turned and bent down to the chest.

“Good,” she said.

“So, you're not upset with me?” he couldn't help asking, not daring to look at her.

“I'm not.” She paused. “You are still going to teach me how to hunt?”

He stopped his rummaging. “After careful consideration, I think it would be wise. Plus, I need to teach you how to defend yourself better.”

“I should hope never to need to do so. Lady Ringsley promised me protection, you know. A governess is a highly respected position.”

He stood, the arrows in one hand, bow in the other. “I'm sure it is. Still, it's time you know what to do just in case a man pushes himself on you.”

“Of course,” she said. “Do you think I'll be in that much danger?”

Though there was no malice in her voice, her words stung him. “I hope that your benefactress will be able to protect you.” He let out a breath. “But to be honest, I'm more concerned about the sort of animal that walks on two legs rather than the four-legged kind. You need to know what to do if a man were to push himself on you.”

She tilted her head to one side. “You think I don't know what to do? I assure you, Michael, had I not wanted your attentions a few moments ago, I would have stopped you.”

That surprised him nearly as much as her previous attitude regarding their indiscretion. “You think so, do you?”

She gave him a demure smile and then sashayed up to stand in front of him. The sway of her hips was mesmerizing, especially when combined with the scent of her womanly musk and vision of rare beauty.

“I do.”

She stood so close to him now that she had to lift her face upward so she could look him in the eye. “A sharp lift of my knee would have you on the floor within seconds of your attempted assault. If you attacked me proper, I would then act eager for your attentions, cupping your head with both my hands, thusly.” She'd reached up and gently placed her hands on each side of his face.

Michael froze. It was as if his feet had grown roots into the cottage's floor. “And then what?”

Moving her thumbs sensuously over his cheekbone, she placed them below his eyes. She then closed his left eye with one thumb and gently caressed his eye patch with the other.

“I would pop your eyeballs like overripe grapes.”

Though she refrained from blinding him, she stepped back with a laugh, but not before giving him a fierce pinch on each cheek.

“You are an evil woman,” he said, both alarmed and admiring of her boldness.

She laughed. “A woman does what she must. It's a skill I learned from the dowager duchess, you know. After seeing one of my overambitious suitors, she took me aside and was most informative.”

Michael nodded. “Amelia is a treasure. Pity we didn't have her on the front lines, training the troops.”

Beatrice laughed. “Now about my lessons?”

Doing his best to tamp down on the unsettling feeling in his stomach and the heat of arousal that washed over him, he said, “Let's go outside and see what we can conjure up for a meal, shall we?”

Clapping her hands together, she laughed. “At last.”

Beatrice couldn't believe how hard it was to set the arrow on the bow and let loose of it. Her first ten attempts ended up in her snapping her arm with each attempt. Although he'd plucked the leather arm sheath from the chest, it hadn't been enough to protect her sensitive skin.

“Surely, there is a better way to hit one's target?” she hissed, rubbing the painful length of her left arm.

Michael laughed. “There is. It's called a pistol. Since we are very restricted on bullets, I'm thinking we need to save that lesson for another time.”

“You think our attackers might be looking for us?” she asked.

He sighed. “They were most determined to injure us at the time. Since we've no idea whether or not they'd just been set on robbing us, or if they meant to do us bodily harm, or worse, it's best that we take every precaution.”

Beatrice nodded. Besides, she'd seen Ash and his friends load their firearms often enough that she probably would be able to figure it out. And, as far as hitting what she aimed at, she didn't have to be too accurate if she didn't have to shoot too far away.

“I agree.”

“I think we need to give your poor arm a rest for the time being. You have been improving your form, which is hopeful.”

“Thank you.” Beatrice did her best to steady her breathing, but Michael's closeness made her heart beat faster and her arms ache to be held by him once more.

Somewhere, deep inside her, she knew that it was hopeless, thinking of herself with Michael. That there was a chance that he would care for her in that way. But it was a hope she had to hold on to, at least until they made it to port. Once she was set on her journey, she would feel better.

“Here, I'm going to show you how to set a snare. Tonight we feast on rabbit.”

Bea let out her breath and nodded. “I suppose that would be a useful skill in America.”

Michael laughed. “You know, there are several large cities on the Continent. New York, Boston, Charleston. You actually can go quite far before you reach the wilderness.”

“I know,” she said. “I've read volumes of periodicals about America.”

He laughed. “A well-educated lady,” he said. “Then my work is done.”

Bea covered her mouth. “I never said that I didn't need your expertise. And I would very much like to have a nice venison roast for dinner. Too bad there's nothing else to go with it. More of the tasty carrot and turnip stew, perhaps.” She laughed.

“I can only provide the rabbits, madam.”

“Very well, we shall make do tonight, but when we get to Portsmouth, I'm going to ask my employer for an advance and treat you with a meal and a night in one of the finest hotels in the city.”

Pulling the twine from his pocket, he motioned for her to follow. “I look forward to our arrival.”

Thirty minutes later they'd caught their dinner, a small gray rabbit, wriggling with all its might.

“Wait,” Bea said as Michael took hold of its head in one hand and slender body in the other.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Not in the mood for rabbit, are we? I doubt we'll find anything better. Even if we could manage to hit a deer, it would take the better part of the day to dress it and prepare it for a meal.”

She let out a breath. “Of course not. I find I no longer have an appetite.”

He grinned at her a moment. “As my lady wishes.” He turned back to the animal in his hands. “Well, my young friend, you've been spared for today. Try to stay out of the briar patch, eh?”

She watched as he gently set the animal down on the ground. Without looking back, it shot from his grasp and disappeared into the brush.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling a lightness in her chest. “One never thinks about the lives of innocents when one is sitting at dinner.”

He laughed. “There's nothing wrong with consuming meat, you know. As long as you kill only what you need to survive. Many was the time that we've filled Slyddon's smokehouse or even taken it to the local village to donate to those who didn't have a full pantry.”

Bea smiled. “Well, that makes the hunting a bit better, I suppose.”

“You are a very grand lady, Beatrice, to care for the less fortunate.”

“Well, to be honest, my family and I have been those ‘less fortunate' people that you spoke of. We were never forced to accept charity. But there were times when our stew had little meat in it.”

Michael sighed. “When I was in Spain and we were separated from the main column, oftentimes the locals took us in and shared their table with us. They didn't have to, mind you. So, when we came upon extra supplies, we made it a priority to share with those who needed it. Despite his own wealth, Ash was most sharing of us all.”

“Really? I never considered him to be that sort.”

“He'd no choice in the matter. Her Grace, the dowager, was responsible for raising him, you know. She taught us all a good measure of selflessness.”

“And you both have become fine men.”

Michael smiled. “In some aspects, I would agree with you.”

Bea watched him as he bent a nail into a hook and then wrapped some twine around it. “Do you refer to the rumors of your infidelities? You shouldn't concern yourself, you know. No one of any worth would believe such things.”

That was when his smile disappeared and his expression became unreadable. “You're wrong. Everyone measures you by your reputation, whether they admit to it or not. Ash may not give a fig for propriety, but he can afford not to. He is a duke, after all.”

For a moment, she didn't know what to say. He was right, of course. The ton had already judged Michael beyond redemption: his history of drinking, dueling, and debauchery.

“Well, it isn't fair. If they knew the sort of man you truly are, they would never say such things.”

He smiled at her. “It doesn't matter what the ton thinks of me as long as people who really matter know the truth.”

Bea held her breath for a few seconds. She dare not tell him exactly how she did feel about him. “Of course,” she started, meaning to say more, but she stopped when she heard a rustling in the bushes behind them.

Michael held up his hand and pulled her beside him. Without hesitating, he took his pistol from his belt and stepping quietly, pulled her behind a tree and settled her there, while he peered around it.

Fear shot through her. Was it possible their attackers had found them?

Just then a doe pushed between the brush, sniffing the ground with caution. Then, stepping out beside her, was her fawn.

Bea let out a sigh of relief. She heard Michael do the same beside her. “Thank heavens,” she whispered, her heart lightening at the realization that they were safe.

“Indeed.” He turned to her. “Am I to understand that you do not wish to have venison for dinner as well?”

“The thought of separating that beautiful baby from its mother is appalling.”

“Which is why no hunter worth his salt will kill a doe. There are standards, you know.”

She nodded. “And you are such a man?” She thought to let the matter of his true self be at the moment. “To the pond, then?”

He nodded. “A wise decision.” He let out a breath. “Then, I think we should make plans to leave our little abode first thing in the morning.”

Bea felt a catch in her chest. “Really? Do you think those blackguards will find us?”

“It's my sincere hope that they don't, but to be honest, I've no way of knowing for sure. The sooner we get you to Portsmouth, the better.”

“But how shall we get there? You said the horse was injured.”

“We won't be needing the mare. It's a day and a half's walk to Slyddon.”

Stunned, she watched him pick up the fishing line and a sizable branch to use as a pole. “Wait. How close are we to the lodge?”