Surrender the Night (27 page)

“Or what?” Again, that infuriating grin.

“I suspect there is more to that despicable British accent than you admit, Mr. Reed.” Shoving his shoe into the stirrup, Snyder swung onto his horse and tugged the reins. The horse neighed and stomped his front hooves. “Whatever you are hiding, I will find out your secret, Mr. Reed. Mark my words.”

CHAPTER 15

A
lex loosened his clenched fists at his side and watched until the darkness swallowed up the last trace of Mr. Snyder. Turning, he leaned against the fence post and gazed at the Drummond home. Through the parlor window he could see Mrs. Drummond sitting on the sofa beside her husband, his arm flung over her shoulders. They leaned their heads together in deep conversation, interrupted by bouts of joyful laughter. Alex had never seen his parents enjoy each other’s company. He never thought such an intimate relationship was even possible. Mr. Drummond kissed his wife on the cheek then stood and assisted her to her feet. He grabbed the lantern and then, arm in arm, the couple left the parlor and headed upstairs. Alex shifted his gaze away. It landed on light spilling from a second-story window he knew to be Miss McGuire’s bedchamber. Not the sort of man who spied into ladies’ boudoirs, he was glad for the thick curtains, which forbade him an unintentional peek within. His eyes moved to the final wisps of smoke curling from the chimney above the kitchen where the light from a lantern faded. No doubt Miss Cora retired for the evening.

A lump formed in Alex’s throat.

Home. This quaint, rustic farmhouse exemplified the meaning of the word. Home wasn’t a large estate with cathedral ceilings and
marble floors, where oil paintings of the masters, exquisite tapestries, and gold-gilded mirrors decorated the walls, where drafty halls extended outward like a maze, and opulently decorated rooms stood cold and empty. No, home was a place where people loved each other and shared their lives. It was something Alex had yearned for all his life and would probably never know, aside from these few glorious days.

Blast Mr. Snyder for trying to destroy this home. Alex’s hot, angry breath mingled with the humid air swirling around him. He would have loved nothing better than to flatten the man where he stood, but that would only cause more trouble for this precious family.

As soon as Rose heard her aunt and uncle’s chamber door click shut, she leaped from her bed, pressed out the folds of her gown and inched toward the door. No sounds save her aunt’s and uncle’s quiet murmurs filtered to her ears. Opening her door and cringing at the tiny squeak, she crept down the hallway and headed downstairs. In the foyer, she grabbed a pair of scissors, some bandages, and comfrey salve from her aunt’s medical satchel, which sat atop a side table, before she exited the front door. Fresh air perfumed with wildflowers swirled around her as she clomped through the mud toward the barn. After briefly greeting Liverpool, Rose climbed the loft and retrieved Mr. Reed’s torn uniform and sword from a trunk. The mere sight of his pistol made her chest tighten. Unable to touch the heinous weapon, she left it there and made her way around the other side of the house to the back of the stable. Prinney, whom she’d let loose from his pen earlier, waddled after her, grunting for her attention.

“I haven’t time now, Prinney.”

Mr. Reed opened the door to her knock and stared at her in utter shock. He had removed his overcoat and waistcoat, leaving only a tight linen shirt across his firmly lined chest. Prinney grunted and nudged her leg.

Rose swallowed and gazed past Mr. Reed into the gloomy room.

“Miss McGuire.”

“Mr. Reed.” She forced her chin forward. “I have come to remove your stitches before you leave.” She pushed past him, ignoring the way
the light breeze frolicked among the loose strands of his dark hair.

“Why, I … Hmm.” He shoved a large rock in place to prop the door open.

His act of propriety at keeping the door ajar only endeared him to her more. Prinney ambled in after her as Rose took a deep breath of the humid air that smelled of mold, hay, and Mr. Reed. A cot holding a crumpled wool blanket guarded the right corner. His waistcoat, coat, and an extra shirt and pair of breeches left by Samuel hung on hooks lining the back wall. A cold potbellied stove perched in the left corner. On a table in the center of the room, sat a single lantern and a vase holding two pink roses.
Pink roses?
She stomped over the dirt floor toward his bed. Hay crunched beneath her slippers. “I am not without a heart, Mr. Reed.” She tossed his uniform and service sword onto the blanket.

He hobbled toward her. “That is one fact that has not escaped my attention.”

She dared a glance into his eyes and found only sincerity—and something else … ardor, affection perhaps—within them. She looked away, trying to conjure up anger, hatred, anything to douse the affection burning within her. “How dare you pick my roses?” She jerked her head toward the vase. “I didn’t grow them for your enjoyment.”

He blinked. “Indeed? Well I have enjoyed them anyway.”

Rose narrowed her eyes.

He chuckled and held up a hand of truce. “In truth, I did not pick them. One of your beasties must have trodden your bush for I found these two flowers barely hanging on and about to fall to the ground.” Moving to the table, he touched one of the petals and bent over, taking a whiff. “They do brighten the place, don’t you agree?”

Rose shook her head as she watched Mr. Reed’s thick, rough hands stroke the delicate petals. And the way he enjoyed the flower’s sweet scent. It was the last thing she expected him to do—any man to do, let alone a British officer. She threw back her shoulders. “Please take a seat, Mr. Reed.”

Prinney grunted in agreement and pressed his snout against Rose’s leg.

Mr. Reed sank into the chair. “Am I to assume the pig is your protector?”

At his sarcastic tone, Rose tightened her lips. “This pig is Prinney,
as you are well aware. And he has been a better friend to me than most people I know.” She lowered her gaze to the bandages, scissors, and salve in her hands. “And if you misbehave, I do have my scissors, sir.” She cocked a brow and put on her most formidable look, but it faltered when a giggle rose to her lips at the absurdity of her statement.

Mr. Reed joined her. “In that case, I shall comport myself as a perfect gentleman.”

Rose gazed out the door into the darkness. He had never behaved otherwise. She must remember what his people had done to Elaine. She must avoid gazing into those caring hazel eyes. She must avoid pondering why her heart leaped at the sight of him instead of tightened as it did with most men. She kneeled by his feet. “I need to cut through your breeches.”

“Cut through?”

“It is either that or have you remove them.”

A red hue crept up his face, and for some reason, it brought a smile to Rose’s lips to see that a man could blush so easily. Rose took the scissors and began to cut through the black linen. “You won’t be needing them anymore.”

Alex’s heart sank at her words. In truth, he wasn’t ready to go. He longed for a few more days’ reprieve from the harsh British navy—a few more days feeling as though he belonged to a family. A few more days with this precious lady. He studied the way the lantern light made her hair shimmer like fine gold. Her delicate fingers worked so gently to cut the fabric of his breeches without disturbing his wound.

She finished slicing through his breeches, then moved the lantern closer to get a good look at his thigh. “What, no complaints, Mr. Reed? No excuses why you should impose upon my family’s hospitality further?”

Alex longed for a glimpse into her lustrous eyes—eyes that could not hide her true feelings—but she kept her chin lowered.

He sighed. “No. I am a man of my word. I am well enough to leave. And leave I shall.”

A visible shudder ran through her. Sniffing, she gazed into the empty space of the room.

A spot of dirt marred her graceful neck, bringing a smile to Alex’s lips. “You were very brave yesterday at your friend’s house.” He didn’t exactly know why she’d been so frightened, but he’d fought in enough battles to know courage when he saw it. Her tender care in light of what she must be feeling toward him—toward all British—caused his throat to clog with emotion. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for what his fellow countrymen had done. But he couldn’t find the right words. More than likely, she would not believe him anyway.

She chuckled. “Me, brave?” Shaking her head, she snipped one edge of the stitches. The scissor blade was cold against his thigh. She tugged at the thread and a slight twinge of pain made Alex wince. “You don’t know me, Mr. Reed.”

Alex rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “It pains me that I will not have the chance.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes misty pools of turquoise. “You speak foolishness, Mr. Reed. Are all British filled with such inane flattery?”

Alex lifted an eyebrow.

Prinney snorted, then meandered over to sift through the hay by the door.

Miss McGuire tugged on the thread again, and Alex watched it slip though his flesh. Queasiness rolled across his gut.

Her cheeks glowed like sweet cream in the lantern light, and Alex longed to brush his fingers over them. While her eyes were downcast, he leaned over and drew in a deep breath of her fresh scent if only to implant it upon his memory.

She finished pulling the remainder of the stitches, then plucked some salve from a small jar. She spread the paste over his wound—a wound that was now nothing but scarred, pink flesh. Afterward, she cut a stream of bandage from a roll, placed it over the wound and wrapped it around his thigh. Every touch of her fingers to his skin set him aflame.

“That should suffice until you see your ship’s surgeon.” She stood and avoided his gaze.

Alex let out a humph. The ship’s surgeon was a ninny. He’d trade that man’s ministrations for this lovely creature’s any day.

She picked up her things and headed toward the door. But Alex wasn’t ready to say good-bye. He stood and plucked a rose from the
vase. “Allow me to escort you back to the house, Miss McGuire. It is dark.”

She stopped but did not turn around. “Your job of protecting me is over, Mr. Reed.”