Madcap Miss

He shifted in his seat, damned uncomfortable because his manhood didn’t care about his better judgment and made him aware of this fact.

Now, the question was what to do with the little vixen tootling about the room? They were a plucky pair, Felicia and Scott, and he found that he liked them both. He could not just desert them as they had made a mull of the entire adventure they had undertaken.

“What are you thinking?” Felicia eyed him doubtfully and brought his attention back to her lovely face.

He looked her over and realized that, on the morrow, he would have to do something about clothing for the two of them. She could not continue to strut about in breeches, and Scott’s clothing was just as bad, torn and bloodied now.

He sighed before answering her. “I was just wondering what I am going to do with you and Scott.”

“Do?” Felicia put up her chin. “We aren’t bushels of potatoes, you know, and are quite capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“Indeed, as you have so adequately demonstrated?” he snapped back at her.

He saw the blush rise to her cheeks, and all he could think was, You beauty—you.

She bit her lip and looked away before returning her gaze to him. “I am sorry. I must have sounded very ungrateful.”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he answered, sounding irritated even to himself.

“No, you aren’t the sort that would, are you?” She shrugged and then regarded him defiantly. “Accidents do happen. It wasn’t all our fault, you know.”

“Fewer accidents happen when you don’t rush headstrong, willy-nilly, into things, you know,” he answered with an arched look at her.

She gave him her back and walked to the fireplace. She put out her hands to the flame before picking up the poker and shuffling the small logs about.

He watched her and said finally, “The fire burns well enough.” He then grinned widely, for she ignored him and continued to jab at the embers.

“Come, Felicia, sit with me so that we may talk,” he coaxed.

She turned and looked at him doubtfully. “I won’t converse with you if you become disagreeable again.”

He smiled. “Right then, you tell me the moment I become so.”

She beamed and then laughed. “Right then,” she said and came back to the table to sit.

He had poured himself another snifter of brandy and sipped it for a long while before he offered, “You know, I had not meant to offend you, Felicia. I am aware of the awkwardness of your situation, and thought, as I am older—”

“Older?” she said, looking at him sharply. “Oh, but you aren’t that much older than I.”

“I am nine and twenty and therefore in a position to use my life’s experiences to advantage,” he said softly.

“Nine and twenty is nothing … just eight years older. There is nothing to say in that,” she countered.

He did not reply to this but said instead, “Have you considered the fact that Scott will not be able to travel for at least a week?”

Felicia’s eyes darted to his, and he was nearly struck dumb. Such depths of emotion glittered in those green jewels. She was stunning.

She said, “No … oh no. As much as that?”

Such desperation lined her voice. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was looking to him for an answer, and he knew in that moment only a need to assuage and calm her. He didn’t know how it was that he reached out and took her fingers and why the touch should send shivers through his body. He was a man of the world—not a schoolboy—and yet her touch excited him beyond understanding.

“As it happens,” he offered her gently, “I am in no rush to get to where I am going. I will wait out the week with you, advance you the ready for your shot here at the inn … and for the clothes you most desperately will need.”

She blushed. “Oh, no, sir … I couldn’t let you do that. It may be some weeks before I can repay you.”

“Your credit, Felicia, is good with me. I have an instinct about people, and I am not worried about a few pieces of coin where you and Scott are concerned. Besides that, you have said you are a lady of means, and I believe you.” He gave her a warm smile.

“This is deuced uncomfortable …” she said, not looking at him.