Jo Ann Brown (18 page)

“Let me help you,” Charles said as he strode down the path. He picked Gemma up so she could pluck the rest of the flowers.

She giggled when he set her on her feet again. She and her brother hurried to the next Bridestone where the path dipped toward the beck.

“Wait there for us,” Sophia said at the same time Charles did.

As Gemma called that they would, Sophia smiled. “They say great minds think alike.”

“Certainly those who keep an eye on boisterous children must.” He held out his hand.

She wove her fingers through his, then raised her eyes past his stubborn chin, past his expressive mouth, past his strong nose with the slight bump that she had never noticed. Had he broken it as a child or was it another visible war wound like the scar that wound up into his hair? When her gaze met his, everything she intended to ask him—Did he find the Bridestones interesting? Were his friends having fun? Had he heard the rumor about her being in her cousin’s arms?—all of it fled from her mind. For once his eyes hid nothing from her. She lost herself in the intense emotions within them.

He held out his other hand. She took it as if she were following the steps of a dance that needed no music. He slowly drew her around the side of the giant stone. In its shadow, out of view of the path, he paused. The others’ voices, the whispers of the wind, the birds’ songs...they vanished beneath the thudding of her heart as his broad hands cupped her face. Did he breathe her name as his mouth lowered toward hers? She could not be sure, but she was certain how much she longed for him to kiss her.

He paused, so close to her mouth that she could feel the heat of his skin upon her lips. For one heartbeat, a second, then a third, he did not move. When she thought she could not wait a second longer, his lips brushed hers lightly.

She held her breath as delight danced through her. He kissed her again, and she returned it, hoping this sweetness told him what she could not with words. In his arms was where she wanted to be.

He raised his head enough to whisper, “You do know we are being want-witted, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She doubted she could say more while his finger ambled gently along her cheek.

“I should not—”

“Keep talking!”

His laughter tickled her face in the moment before he drew her back to him. He sprinkled kisses on her cheeks, on her nose, on her eyebrows. Just as his lips found hers again, someone called her name. She paid no attention. Too many times, they had let others intrude, tearing them apart. Not today. Not now. Not when he was kissing her.

“There you are! Didn’t you hear us calling? I...” Her sister’s voice ended in an embarrassed gulp.

Sophia blinked and saw Catherine peering around the huge stone. Her face was as red as Mr. Bradby’s most garish waistcoat. Sophia quickly stepped out of Charles’s arms before her sister’s eyes could pop out of her skull.

Even so, Catherine recovered from her shock first. “Sophia, oh, thank heavens! Are the children with you?”

“No.”

Her sister’s face grew wan.

“What is it?” Charles asked, his voice rising with dismay.

Catherine gulped again. “My lord, we don’t know where Gemma and Michael are. The children have vanished!”

Chapter Seventeen

C
harles’s battle skills burst out of memory. Everything around him came into pristine focus. The woods, the stones, the people beside him. How could he use each one to complete his mission? How could each be used to keep him from success?

First he needed information. Miss Catherine had little to tell them. Herriott had noticed the children playing near the beck. When he looked back a few moments later, they were gone. They had assumed the children were with Charles and Sophia, but then realized Charles and Sophia were nowhere to be seen either. That was when his friends had started calling out to them.

He shouted to Herriott and Bradby. They came running down the path with Miss Fenwick following close behind. One glance at him and his friends snapped to attention, ready for his orders.

“Did you call for the children?” Charles did not wait for an answer. He cupped his mouth and shouted the children’s names.

He held his breath, hearing the faint echo resound off the other side of the hill.

No answer.

“Where did you see them by the beck?” asked Sophia.

He fought his annoyance. That should have been his first question. Bradby and Herriott looked hastily at each other. Were they beginning to question if he had truly lost his sense of command once he took off his uniform?

A useless thought that he had no time for. All that mattered was that the children were found safe. His gut clenched. He had promised to keep them safe. The moment he’d allowed Sophia to distract him, they had gone missing.

Focus,
his military knowledge warned him.
Focus on the goal. Use everything to achieve it.

“I saw them go down the path,” Herriott said. “Or so it looked from where I stood.”

“They must still be on this side of the beck.” Charles paced until Sophia put her hand on his arm. He wanted to shake it off, but he stopped when she gave a slight shake of her head.

“We cannot assume that,” she said.

“
I
know my children!” he shot back.

She yanked her hand away from him as tears blossomed in her eyes. By all that’s blue, he did not want to make her cry after she had been soft and warm in his arms.

“Let us help, too,” she said.

Awed by the strength of her compassion for him and his children, he choked out, “I must find them. You know that I would die for my children.”

Herriott stared at him in disbelief. “That will not be necessary.”

“How do you know?” he shouted as he glowered at Herriott. Bradby wisely stayed silent.

But not Sophia. “Berating yourself will not help find the children,” she said.

“That is right,” Vera added. “They cannot have gone far. We saw them moments ago.”

“Little legs can move quickly when something catches a child’s eye.” Sophia made a quick decision. “We need to break up into teams, so we can cover more ground more quickly.”

Again Charles fought vexation as the others nodded to Sophia’s suggestion. Why were they fighting him on every point and yet concurring with her? He shoved those questions aside as he had the others. He had no time to examine his feelings. He must find the children.

“Herriott,” he said, “you and I are the best trackers. We will head down the hill toward the beck. Bradby, you and Miss Fenwick go back toward the carriage. Look everywhere. They may have wandered off the path and gotten lost.”

His friends nodded.

Charles turned to Sophia. “You and your sister need to retrace the path along the top of the hill.”

Instead of agreeing, she protested, “No, Charles—”

“We cannot waste time talking. Whatever you have to say can wait.” He waved his hand in the air. “Let’s go. We will meet here in ten minutes.”

“Charles, please, listen to me. I know—”

“Not now, Sophia!” He turned away, but not before he saw her flinch.

He motioned to Herriott to follow and left without saying another word. Why couldn’t Sophia follow his orders without question as the others did? The answer almost staggered him. She could not follow his orders because she saw through him straight to his heart. She saw his fear and the guilt that he had let himself be bemused by her kisses when he should have been watching over his children as he had vowed. He could not let himself be distracted again.

Pain burst from his heart, a pain he had not felt since Lydia’s betrayal. Only this time he was the traitor. He had accepted Sophia’s affection and now was tossing it aside. He hated himself, but he refused to break the oath that he had made. The oath that had kept him alive when he had been as ready to die as the man in his nightmare.

* * *

As he hurried down the path, Charles called out his children’s names, then paused to listen for a reply. Fury almost blinded him. A branch broke, and he spun to his right.

“Gemma! Michael!” he shouted.

But it was only Bradby and Miss Fenwick walking along the edge of the wood toward the carriage. He frowned. Where were Sophia and her sister? He had told them to search the upper sections of the hill, but he could not see them.

“Northbridge, this may not be the time to speak up.” Herriott cleared his throat as they approached a pair of Bridestones, one tall and thin while the other was squat and barely peeking out of the side of the hill. “But after what we interrupted...” He coughed again.

“Spit out what you have to say.” He shielded his eyes with his hand so he could get a better view of the twisting path among the odd stone formations. The children could be hiding behind any of them. Even the top-heavy sculptures were wide enough at the base to conceal a small child.

“All right.” Herriott walked around the tall rock, then said, “Sometimes sacrifices must be made. Didn’t you tell me that?”

Charles waved aside his words. “I don’t want to talk about sacrifices now.
Now
is not the time for anything but finding my children.”

“You can listen while we search.”

“If you insist...”

“I do. You have been lambasting me for being unable to make a decision.”

Usually Charles would have apologized to his friend for being unsupportive of Herriott’s difficulties during the transition from war to peace. Yet this was not the time. His eye caught a motion, and he whirled around. It was a branch rocking in the breeze.

“I have made a decision,” Herriott said.

“Good for you.”

“No.” Herriott stopped and faced him. “Good for
you
.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“I have seen how you look at my cousin and how she looks at you. It is clear that you have feelings for each other.”

“Can’t this wait, Herriott?”

“No, it cannot.” His friend jumped onto the shorter stone and glanced at its far side. “Solid rock. No place for them here.”

“Come on. There are several more before we get to the bottom of the ravine.”

Herriott grabbed his sleeve. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Not now.” He tried to jerk his arm free, but heard threads rip on his coat. Not that he cared about the state of his coat when his children were missing. But he needed Herriott’s help. His friend was a skilled tracker. He and Bradby used to joke that Herriott could trace a flea across a long-haired dog.

His friend did not heed him. “I want you to know that if you wish to woo my cousin, I will not stand in your way.”

Even as his heart leaped with elation, Charles paid it no mind. What sort of father was happy when his children were missing? Not the kind he had vowed to be.

“I suspect that Sophia would be very eager to marry you,” Herriott continued. “What woman would settle for being a mere baroness when she could be a countess?”

He stared at his friend, then pushed away from the rock he had been examining. He reeled blindly down the hill, desperate to get away from Herriott’s question.

Herriott shouted, “Go slow! That path is too steep for that speed.”

Charles ignored him.

Herriott was an excellent judge of character, one of the qualities that had made him a good lieutenant. He had honed a clearer insight into people than Charles ever could. Now Herriott believed Sophia wished to marry him to become a countess.

As Lydia had.

Sophia had welcomed his kisses eagerly.

As Lydia had.

Sophia’s kisses had thrilled him to the depths of his soul, stripping him of every logical thought.

As Lydia’s had.

Was he making the same mistake again?

Lord, help me!
he prayed over and over as he stumbled down the path toward the beck. He stopped at its edge, having no idea where to turn.

* * *

“There is only one place where they could be,” Sophia said to her sister as Charles and Cousin Edmund rushed away in one direction and Vera and Mr. Bradby in another.

“Where?” Catherine still refused to meet her eyes, and her cheeks flushed each time either Sophia or Charles spoke to her.

“The stone with the dragon’s face.”

“But that is on the other side of the beck.”

Sophia put her hands on her hips and gave her sister an ironic smile. “Do you think that small beck which can be crossed on a few stepping stones will stop two children who want to see the dragon’s face? Did it stop us?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go!”

Catherine hung back. “But Lord Northbridge told us to search the top of the hill.”

“We will.” Sophia’s smile became grim. “Only it will not be the top of
this
hill.”

When her sister protested that Charles would stop them if they followed the path, Sophia walked around one of the huge stones and started down the sheer drop toward the bottom of the ravine. She did not like being deceitful, but Charles had refused to listen to her, acting as if she had nothing worthwhile to say.

Just as Lord Owensly had when he came to renege on his offer to take her to Almack’s.

She scurried faster down the hill as if she could evade her own memories. Charles was nothing like Lord Owensly, who cared more about what others thought than he had about Sophia. No man could kiss her as Charles had and not feel something honest and true for her.

Or was she bamboozling herself?

By the time she and Catherine had reached the bottom and begun up the other side, the sunlight was being swallowed by gray clouds.

“It is going to rain,” her sister said needlessly as they jumped over the slender beck.

Sophia’s shoes sank in the mud. “Then we need to hurry even more.” Pulling herself out of the mire, she clambered up the hill on the far side of the beck, sometimes gripping the grass to heave herself up the steep slope.

A shout resounded through the narrow valley. She whirled, hopeful, before she realized the voice had been Charles’s calling to his children. His pain resonated through their names.

She crested the hill and ran toward the massive stone that resembled a dragon’s head. Would the children have seen the likeness, or would they have gone on? The Bridestones covered a vast area on either side of the beck.

Her breath burned beneath her ribs as she reached the dragon stone. She shouted the children’s names.

Giggles.

“There!” Catherine tugged on Sophia’s arm and pointed to the next Bridestone.

Sophia ran to it and discovered an open space beneath one portion of the huge rock. A space just the right size for two small children. They looked at her, then each other, and giggled again.

“Come out,” she ordered.

“You found us!” Michael squeezed out and bounced to his feet. “You hide now.”

“This was even more fun than when we play in the nursery,” added Gemma with a wide grin.

Catherine asked, “This was a game for you?”

“A fun game!” Gemma danced along with her brother. “Can we play again?”

A quick check told Sophia that both of them were fine. Putting her hands on her hips, she said, “You two know better than to run off without telling anyone where you are bound. Playing in the safety of the nursery is one thing, but you could have fallen on these steep hills and hurt yourself.”

Michael was in no mood to listen to reason. He twirled around in his excitement. “We see dragon!”

“Are you mad at us?” Gemma grasped Sophia’s hand.

“I am not happy that you took off as you did, but I am glad you are safe,” she said, brushing dust out of the little girl’s red hair. “Let’s go. Your papa is very worried about you.”

“He was not going to let us see the dragon.” Gemma pouted.

“We see dragon!” Michael took Sophia’s other hand.

Deciding that she needed to let Charles decide what to do now that the children had been found, she hoped he had learned enough in the past weeks to understand that the children had meant no real harm. She sent her sister ahead to let the others know the children had been found and followed at a pace Michael’s short legs could manage.

Sophia could not help stiffening when they reached the beck and she saw Charles standing on the other side. His friends, her sister and Vera were behind him. Even before he spoke a word, she felt fury billowing off him. She steeled herself to defend the children from his wrath.

As soon as she swung both children across the beck and into waiting arms, Charles said in the coldest voice she had ever heard, “Your sister tells me the children believed they were playing a game you taught them.”

“Yes.”

“How could you?” he shouted as he grabbed the shocked children’s hands. “You filled their heads with nonsense, and now look where it has led.”

She needed to persuade him to listen to her. “Charles—”

“Miss Meriweather, you have nothing more to say that I wish to hear.” He spun on his heel and pushed past his friends.

The children looked back, dismay and hurt on their faces, as he marched them up the hill in the direction of the carriage.

Sophia stared after them in disbelief. Charles had not heeded her feelings any more than Lord Owensly had.