Part 8 (1/2)

Oh, it was true that shead never seen a more handsome mana”the combination of black hair and piercing blue eyes was enough to make anyone take notice. But added to that was a sensual smile that could send a s.h.i.+ver down oneas spine, a set of hard-carved lips that seemed made for kissing, a rather lively sense of humor, and a definite streak ofa reluctant chivalry, she supposed it was, for lack of a better phrase.

But there were a few other things, as well. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and a very firm posterior.

Not that shead been looking at his posterior, mind you. Harriet was quite certain she wouldnat have noticed anything about the captain at all if she hadnat been forced to endure Opheliaas and Sophiaas constant musing on the subject.

Every day, they watched, commented, debated, and argued about which of the captainas features they liked the best. Sophia was very fond of his blue eyes, shadowed as they were by coal black lashes so long that they curled just a bit at the ends. Ophelia rather thought she liked the way his muscles rippled beneath his s.h.i.+rt while he was working. The only thing the two were in complete agreement on was the captainas rump. They both thought it was a thing of G.o.dlike beauty.

To be honest, his posterior was rather impressive. Especially arrayed in Stephenas slightly too-tight breeches. Harriet smiled. There were some advantages to working in the fields. Mainly, you had the opportunity to watch your more interesting companions for lengthy periods of time without their being aware of it. Until four days ago, Harriet hadnat been aware of that particular benefit to field work.

Not that any of it mattered. It was a complete waste of time to dream over a man who was bound to leave. Fortunately for her, Harriet had long since learned to waste neither her time nor her life dreaming about things one could never have.

Father, of course, had believed differently. He had been a dreamer. She could remember him saying that their only ch.o.r.e was to enjoy life to the fullest and to let tomorrow take care of itself. But his determination to live in a manner he could ill afford had, on his death, left his family deeply in debt. Harriet had learned that the only time one could really enjoy tomorrow was after one had taken care of today.

She thought about her brothers and sisters. About Stephen, who worked so hard that his hands were already callused and rough; about Sophia and Ophelia, who fetched and carried and cleaned; about Derrick, whoad lost the chance to attend Eton; and especially Mother, who worried about them all, more than she wanted anyone to know. Harriet had to force away a very real flare of anger at her father for his shortsightedness.

A noise outside of Harrietas door drew her attention to the clock. Piffle! If she didnat get busy, shead be late again. And all because shead lain in bed too long.

Harriet took a deep breath, pushed aside the mound of blankets and jumped to the floor, the cold chattering her teeth. Hugging herself, she ran across the room, threw open the door to the wardrobe, grabbed her clothing from a peg and ran back to bed.

She tossed the clothes onto the bed and then dived under the covers, luxuriating in the cozy spot shead just left. It was warmer in the house during the winter, when it was so cold they had to have the fires lit. But in the spring, when it was warm in the daytime, they made do without the fires, which left the mornings a bit frosty early in the season.

Harriet snaked out a hand from beneath the covers and grabbed her gown. She then began the laborious process of putting it on while staying warm. Years of practice held her in good stead, and she soon had the gown in place and was ready to face the chill morning air.

Harriet stood in her stocking-clad feet and fished her boots out from under her bed, yawning away the effects of too little sleep. What was she doing, losing sleep over a man who was destined to leave?

She seemed to have no control over her thoughts of late.

It seemed that as soon as her head hit her pillow, no matter how tired she might be, her mind immediately began to dwell on Captain Frakenham. There was something about him, about the way he smiled, about the flashes of sadness she saw in his eyes at unexpected moments, at the little acts of kindness that he committed when he thought no one was lookinga”like asking her to dance. Or the times he helped Ophelia or Sophia with a bucket that appeared too heavy. Ora”oha”a dozen other kindnesses.

She closed her eyes and for an instant, she was back in his arms, twirling across the bedroom floor, her magic shoes on her feet as they swooped and swirled until Harriet was quite sure she could fly.

Her heart warmed at the memory, banis.h.i.+ng the cold, and she held her arms out and danced a few steps in the empty room, her skirts swirling about her legs. As she turned, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the washstand. Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning, her lips curved into a bemused smile. She looked like a woman in loa”

She dropped her hands to her side, her gaze widening. Blast it, that was no way to feel about a man who would soon leave, even if he did know how to dance. She would not be so silly as to allow herself to feel anything for him. She was not her father, ready to throw away her future and the future of those she loved for something she could never have.

aPiffle,a she said aloud, to further stifle her unruly imagination. For the thousandth time, she wondered at the captainas true ident.i.ty. And why head elected to stay here, with them. Whatever it was, Harriet decided she had better find out. She hated a mystery almost as much as she hated empty, wasted dreaming.

Firmly putting the waltz tune out of her mind and restoring her heart to its normal location in her chest, Harriet put on her boots and left her room.

He was drowning in a sea of wool. Baaing sheep surrounded him on all sides, black-faced ones, and white-faced ones, and large spotted ones. They stood all around him as far as the eye could see, as deep as the ocean itself.

Try as he might, he could not break free. All he could do was flounder helplessly as m.u.f.fled waves of wool enclosed him, pressed upon him, dragged him under until he could not breathe. He struggled furiously, fighting madly, desperate for breath as he tried to break to the surfacea”

Chase awoke with a start, facedown in his pillow. He yanked it away and gulped in the cold morning air, his body drenched in sweat. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, what a nightmare.

But it was no wondera”he was inundated with sheep. Chase tucked the pillow back under his head and rolled onto his back, blinked groggily into the darkness as he waited for his breathing to return to normal. Head never worked so hard in his life, though to tell the truth, as more and more days pa.s.sed, he found that he was beginning to enjoy it.

Well, some of it. There was one particular ram who detested Chase on sight, a sentiment Chase found that he could return with his full compliments. Every opportunity the ram got, he would lower his head and attempt to knock Chase into the mud.

In all truth, far worse than the work and the cantankerous ram, was the constant trail of visitors that had descended on Garrett Park. They came, they saw, they gawked. Each night, Chase would drag himself in from the fields, take a quick gallop on his poor horse, who no doubt was feeling as cooped up as Chase himself, and then put on his London clothes and pretend he wasnat nigh dead with exhaustion at dinner.

That night promised to be the worst night of all, for Lady Cabot-Wells was reputed to be attending. Mrs. Ward had announced with some glee that the woman was the busiest gossip this side of Dorset.

Chase rubbed his neck and stretched, wakening more each pa.s.sing moment. The more he saw of the gossip chain that operated in Sticklye-By-The-River, the happier he was that he hadnat blurted out his name when head first arrived.

In one more week, all would be finished. The wool would be gathered, the bank paid, Garrett Park saved, and Chase St. John would be on his way. He rolled to his side and looked about his dark bedroom, wondering why the thought made him feel so bleak.

Didnat he want to protect his family from his own errors? Of course he did. And leaving was the best way. He was sure of it.

Almost.

What, he wondered, would Harriet do in his case? He saw her as shead looked in his arms, dancing with such a joyous air.

Of all the women Chase had known, Harriet Ward was the most honest, genuine of all. He liked how she faced lifeas difficulties with her chin in the air, still able to laugh and enjoy a moment of frivolity without playing the martyr. He thought of her shoes and the joy shead taken in wearing them.

One day, when all this was over, he would order a dress for her, one that would match those shoes. One that would fulfill every daydream shead ever had.

The thought pleased him and he lay in the darkness, smiling.

aCaptain?a Stephen threw open the door. aItas another day.a So it was. Chase kicked back his covers and sat up, stretching in the dark. The second the sheep were shorn and he was certain Garrett Park was saved, it would be time to leave. Time to resume his journey. But today was not that day.

For some reason, that small thought soothed him and it was with a lift to his step that he dressed and went to breakfast.

Harriet pushed her hat off her head and wiped her brow. These were the last of them. Beginning tomorrow, they would start the shearing.

She leaned against the fence, her neck and back aching. Thank goodness for Max. He herded the sheep almost effortlessly, crisscrossing back and forth, nipping at a heel here, a rump there. The sheep, though nervous around him, seemed to understand he meant no harm and they jostled along in the general direction he provided.

aAre we done?a Harriet glanced up at the captain. He leaned against the fence, his s.h.i.+rt undone at the neck, his sleeves rolled up. A wide-brimmed straw hat was settled on his black hair, shading his eyes from the sun. Head not worn a hat the first day, and the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears were a pleasant shade of pink.

After seeing him glowing red at the end of the first day, Harriet had demanded that Stephen provide him one of his straw hats. The hat, old and frayed, wasnat one of Stephenas better ones, but on the captain, it seemed different somehow. Bolder. Morea n.o.ble or something.

The captain glanced down at her at that moment, his brows lifting. aWhat?a She looked away, irritated head caught her staring at him. aNothing. I was just seeing if your sunburn was better.a aOh I hardly feel it at all. Of course, that could be because the rest of me is so pained that I barely notice the sunburn, butaa He shrugged.

Her lips twitched. aYou know, Iam surprised you are sore at all. Itas almost as if youad never done a dayas labor in your life. A strange thought, that. Youad think a sailor would be more used to hard work.a Chase glanced down at the wretch. She was teasing him, he was sure of it. Always dancing on the line of the fantasy shead forced on him, while waiting for him to reveal himself.

Well, he didnat have to reveal a thing. And while it behooved him to pretend to be aCaptain John,a he didnat have to be nice about it. He owed this little slip of impudence a lesson or two. A lesson about toying with the minds of men far greater than she.

He was a St. John, dammit. Perhaps the least of the St. Johns, but a St. John nonetheless. He turned, leaning his back against the fence so that he could more fully face her. aStrange that you should mention the sea. I wonder that I do not have any memory of that. Not even a little.a aNo? I heard you tell Miss Stanhope all sorts of sea tales just the other day.a aI stole them out of a book from your library.a She appeared much struck. aDid you?a aTales of a Foreign Born Sailor.a aIam impressed that youave gone to such lengths.a aYou should be,a he retorted. aI just find it strange that I donat have any clear memories of being at sea. I remember other things, but not that.a aOther things? Like what?a aLike kissing. And touching. Anda”a aI see,a she said hastily, her color high. aYou know, the doctor did say that it is not unusual for someone with an injury such as yours to remember the incidentals in life, but not the details.a aYes, buta youad think Iad remember something. Anything.a He looked at the sky, and knit his brow, trying his hardest to look bemused and sad. aI certainly wish I could.a aThere, Captain.a She placed her hand on his arm and looked earnestly at him. aIave no doubt that one day your entire memory will pop right back into your head.a If he was a good actor, then she was a splendid actress. But he was up to the challenge. He placed one of his hands over hers and leaned down to gaze into her eyes. aWhat surprises me the most is that I do not, at least, remember you.a She tried to remove her hand, but he wouldnat allow it.

He further pinned his quarry with a smile. aOf all the things a man should never forget, the woman he loves is foremost. He would remember a number of things beyond her name. The curve of her cheek. The feel of her lips on his. The taste of her.a Her gaze dropped down to rest on the tips of her shoes. aAh. Yes. Well.a Chase nodded as if thinking. aI wonderaa He waited.

She lifted her gaze, her color still high. aWhat?a He stepped forward, closing the s.p.a.ce between them. She stood before him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. She was a tiny thing, all bone and brown hair.

But her eyesa they saved her from plainness and more. Wide and finely shaped, fringed with thick black lashes, they shone with intelligence, brimmed with irritation, and flashed with humor.

In the brief time head known her, head seen all that and more.