Surrender the Night (23 page)

Alex lifted one brow. “There may be British afoot.”

“Indeed, Mr. Reed, there
are
British afoot.” Her pointed gaze made him wince. “Which is why I feel the need to leave.” Giving Valor a nudge, she snapped the reins and sped off in a flurry of blue muslin and golden curls.

“What the deuces,” Reed cursed then marched to the steed grazing in the field. He hoped he remembered how to ride. It had been several years since he’d ridden his father’s horses across their estate. And never without benefit of saddle and reins. But there was no time for that. He
glanced toward the web of greenery bordering the farm and caught one final glimpse of Miss McGuire’s blue gown as the forest swallowed her up. Foolish woman.

Taking a running start, he leaped onto the horse’s back and grabbed a handful of mane to stop himself from slipping off the other side. A shard of pain lanced his thigh. The horse snorted and stomped his foot into the dirt. Thunder grumbled in the distance. “Come on, boy, we’ve a lady to rescue.” With a squeeze of his legs, he urged the beast forward. Nothing. “Forward!” he ordered. The steed shook his head. One large brown eye stared at him as if he were an annoying insect, and Alex fully expected the horse’s tail to swat him from his back.

Infernal beast. Fury tightened Alex’s jaw. “I said go!” He kicked the horse’s sides. Much to his dismay, the horse lurched into a gallop. Catching his balance before he tumbled off the back end, Alex tightened his grip on the mane and leaned forward. Hot wind whipped through his hair, freeing it from its queue. The crazed pound of his heart matched the thump of the horse’s hooves over the grassy, moist ground. Alex’s body rose and fell against the steed’s muscular back. Not until he charged into the forest did the horse slow to a trot. Up ahead, Miss McGuire made her way along a narrow winding trail.

“Miss McGuire!”

She shot a spiteful glance over her shoulder. “Go back to your ship, Mr. Reed. Leave me be.”

“I cannot. Your uncle has charged me with your care.”

“Well, I discharge you, sir.” She urged her horse into a trot.

Ducking beneath a low-hanging branch, Alex followed her into the thick brush, his steed trotting over a soft bed of moss and pine needles. Leaves in every shade of green fluttered in the breeze around him. Tree trunks thrust into the gray sky like ship masts. Insects buzzed. Birds chirped, and Alex drew in a deep breath of earth and life tainted with the fragrance of wildflowers and fresh rain.

Lightning flashed above the canopy, transforming the greens into sparkling silver.

He urged his horse onward. “Miss McGuire, if you please.”

“Go away!” she shouted before the foliage swallowed her up once again.

A clearing up ahead afforded Alex a view of her as her horse leaped
over a small creek. But after casting one glance over her shoulder, she galloped out of sight.

Coaxing his horse into a sprint, Alex hoped the steed would clear the brook with the same skill. He leaned forward, feeling the beast’s muscles tense and stretch beneath him. The horse thrust his hooves into the wind. They flew through the air for one brief, glorious second before they struck the dirt on the opposite bank. The horse bucked. Alex lost his grip. He slid off the steed’s back and thumped to the ground. Pain speared up his spine and something sharp struck his head.

“Blast it all,” he moaned as he toppled over onto a pile of leaves.

Seconds later, golden curls and glistening blue eyes appeared in his blurry vision. “Mr. Reed, are you all right?” Her fresh feminine scent filled the air between them, luring him from his daze.

Alex shook his head and attempted to rise. Gentle hands gripped his arms and pulled him up.

How mortifying. Shame heated his face, and he closed his eyes.

“Are you injured?” she asked.

“I don’t believe so.” He glanced over the clearing where their two horses grazed happily on a patch of moss.

“Oh my word.” Her eyes sharpened. “You are bleeding.” Yanking a handkerchief from her sleeve, she scrambled to the brook and dipped the cloth in the water.

Alex felt a trail of warm fluid slide down his cheek. He raised his hand to wipe it away, but she knelt and dabbed the cloth on his face before he could.

“I told you not to follow me,” she scolded.

Pain etched across his forehead. He lifted his hand to his wound again, but she batted it away. “I could not in good conscience allow you to put yourself in further danger, miss.”

“Mr. Reed.” She sat back. “I know these woods better than you know your ship. I simply wished to be alone.” She glanced down.

But not before Alex saw her red nose and puffy eyes. “You’ve been crying.”

Tossing the cloth into his hand, she leaped to her feet and turned her back to him, adding to his confusion.

“I hope I am not the cause of your distress.” Alex pressed the cloth to his forehead. Pain burned across his skin.

Dark clouds stole the remaining light of the sun and lured shadows out from hiding.

“You must leave.” Her shoulders slumped. “There is no other recourse.”

A breeze danced among the loose curls hanging to her waist. Alex shook his head. Was she upset about him leaving? Absurd. “I fear you mistook me. I meant, are you upset because I followed you?”

She swung around, a horrified look on her face. “Of course, I understood you perfectly.” She swiped her cheeks and drew a deep breath. “It is this war, meeting my friends in town yesterday, Elaine.” She took up a pace across the leaf-strewn ground as thunder growled in the distance.

Alex’s eyes followed her as she stormed back and forth across the clearing. The sway of her silky hair, the gentle curve of her cheeks and chin, her delicate nose, her eyes the color of the Caribbean sea, and her moist lips in constant motion as she expounded on the day’s events. He swallowed. How lovely she was—this backwoods, rustic farm girl.

He longed to pull her into his arms.

What the deuces was wrong with him?

“And I miss my mother and father more than I can say,” she continued, her eyes misting again.

Alex wondered if he should inquire. Would she only hate him more for asking? She ceased her pacing and dropped beside him. Taking the cloth from his hand, she dabbed it over his wound again. “It’s just a scratch. You’ll live.”

“Again you tend to my wounds, Miss McGuire. This could become a habit.” He smiled, hoping to lighten her mood, but his words only deepened her frown.

He drew himself up onto a fallen log and pulled her up beside him, glad when she didn’t resist him.

Perhaps it had only been thoughts of her mother and father that had prompted the tears he thought were for him. Yet her tenderness toward her parents created an ache in his own heart. Alex had been nothing but a disappointment to his father—to his entire family. But never had they expressed such affection for him or for one another in life as this woman had for her parents in death.

Seconds passed in silence as the warble of birds faded with the encroaching night.

“May I ask what happened to your parents?” He caressed her hand, warm and soft.

She swallowed. Slipping her hand from his, she glanced toward the creek frolicking over rocks and pebbles and sending creamy foam onto the banks. A gust of rain-spiced wind toyed with her golden curls. “My father obtained a commission aboard one of our naval ships, the USS
Chesapeake
. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Alex flinched as if he’d been struck. The USS
Chesapeake?
He stared down at the mud at his feet. Thunder announced his doom. He felt as though a thousand needles stabbed his heart. “Yes.” He didn’t want to hear anymore. He knew exactly what she would say.

“Your HMS
Leopard
fired upon her when Captain Barron refused to allow a boarding party to search for British deserters.” Though her voice wobbled, it retained the sting of anger.

Alex nodded and lowered her handkerchief. He stared at his own blood staining the white cloth and suddenly felt as though he deserved the wound and so much more.

“Three men were killed that day. Eighteen wounded. One of them my father.”

Hope taunted him for a moment. Wounded only? Perhaps he had not been killed by the British after all.

“He died at the Marine Hospital at Washington Point,” she continued, crushing his hopes. A few raindrops splattered on the nearby leaves, mimicking the tear that spilled from her lashes. “At least four thousand citizens stood along both sides of Market Square while his coffin was carried in a long procession. Artillery fired minute guns from onshore, and all the American vessels in the harbor displayed their colors at half mast.” She sniffed and ran the back of her hand over her moist face.

Alex clasped his hands together if only to keep from holding her as he longed to do. “He must have been quite a gallant officer and well loved.” He could think of nothing else to say.

Her jaw tightened. Another tear slid down her cheek. “He was but a simple boatswain, not an officer. But he was well loved. And we were not at war, Mr. Reed. The
Chesapeake
was unprepared to defend herself. Her guns were not primed for action. Why would they be?” She stood and stepped away, as if being close to him disgusted her.

Alex struggled to his feet and moved behind her, longing to take away her pain.

Lightning flashed, glinting everything in gray.

“My mother died a week later of a broken heart.” Her voice cracked as she hugged herself. “And I became an orphan at age fifteen.”

Alex’s heart sank to the dirt. No wonder she hated the British. No wonder she hated him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she moved from beneath it.

“Your British navy stole everything from me.”

Alex swallowed. “My association causes me great shame.”

“You do not know all that I have been through.”

Heavy rain drops tapped like war drums on the leaves overhead.

“No, I do not.” Alex sighed. “But I will listen if you wish to tell me.”

At the sound of sincerity in Mr. Reed’s voice, Rose turned around. Hazel eyes, as deep and fathomless as the sea he sailed upon, gazed back at her with concern. And something else … an affection that sent her heart fluttering. She would prefer hatred, animosity, even excuses. Those she knew how to react to, what to say. But not this.

“You were fifteen.” He shoved a wayward strand of his hair behind his ear. “Yet your aunt said you’ve only been here five years.”

The care pouring from his eyes wrapped around her wounded heart and lured her to tell him her sad tale. She tore her gaze away. “Why do you wish to know?”

He rubbed his stubbled jaw and his gaze softened. “Because I care.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. The
rap, rap
of rain on the canopy filled the air like steady musket fire. Water misted over her, and she collected her hair over her shoulder.
He cared, indeed
. She would not believe him—could not believe him. She took a step back and lowered her gaze. “If it helps appease your guilt, it was not your countrymen who …” Her throat closed. “Who caused me further pain.”

His warm finger touched her chin, bringing her gaze back up to his. “My guilt is not the issue here. I only wish to ease the pain I see in your eyes.”

Thunder bellowed and Rose turned her back to him and moved farther away—away from his touch that sent an odd tremble through
her, not a fearful one, but one that felt like a thousand fireflies swirling in her stomach. “A dear friend of my father’s took me in after my parents died. I didn’t know of my aunt’s and uncle’s existence at the time because of their estrangement from the family.”

She heard the crunch of pine needles behind her as he moved closer. She gazed at the creek, the sturdy brown tree trunks, the leaves swaying in the wind. Anything to tether her to reality and keep her from spilling her heart to this man. Yet her words poured from her mouth as unstoppable as the water dashing in the brook.

“What I thought was concern for me and love for my father was merely an interest in the fortune left to me by my parents.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Reed slip beside her.

“He made me a servant in his home, treated me with indifference and cruelty. All the while he proceeded to spend my inheritance as if it were his own.” She glanced at Mr. Reed, but his expression remained stoic as he gazed at the creek.

“Nearly two years later, I was cleaning the desk in his study and came across a letter my mother had written on her deathbed explaining the existence of my aunt and uncle in Baltimore and asking him to ensure that I was placed in their care.”

Mr. Reed’s jaw bunched.

“I took what was left of my inheritance and ran away. I procured passage on a merchant vessel traveling to Baltimore.”

“Alone?” Even now, fear sparked in his eyes.

“I had no choice, Mr. Reed.” She would not tell him what happened on that fateful voyage. She could not.

Stooping, she picked up a stick and fingered its rough bark. Her resolve threatened to break beneath the memories filling her mind, but she shoved them back behind the thick door of forbidden thoughts.

Mr. Reed approached, anguish twisting his handsome features. Rain slid down his face. His wet shirt clung to his firm torso, accentuating his muscles beneath. Rose blinked the water from her lashes, realizing for the first time that she was alone with a man in the forest. Where no one would hear her scream. Yet, she found not an ounce of fear within her. Instead, the strangest feeling came over her. She felt safe. Completely and utterly safe. As if nothing could happen to her as long as she was with him. She’d never felt that way before,
at least not since she’d been a little girl. The sensation made her giddy and sad at the same time.