An Arrangement of Sorts Page 12

  “I did want to know, actually,” he said with real honesty. “I wondered if you were the princess type of little girl or if you favored being a knight of the realm.”

  She smiled. “While the action of the knight of the realm was appealing, I was always more interested in the fashion of a queen. My brother was content to play the knight, and took to defending me quite seriously. I never so much as stubbed a toe.”

  “I should hope not!” Nathan replied in a very shocked tone. “A knight who cannot protect his queen is a useless fellow indeed! No bruising or bloodshed may come to the queen, or else the knight who failed his duty must lose his head.”

  Moira laughed and looked over at him with delight. “Were you a knight of the realm, then?”

  “No, alas, I was far less scrupled,” he said with a sad shaking of his head. “There were no knights in the Hammond household.”

  “So what, then?” she asked, obviously determined to make him share as well. “What did little Nathan spend his days pretending?”

  He ducked his head, suddenly shy, which made her smile grow even wider. “Oh, come now, Nathan,” she scolded playfully. “It cannot be any worse than me honestly thinking I would grow up to be a queen.”

  “Well, all right,” he said, resigned to the fact that she would not give up until she knew all. “Do you know the legend of Robin of the Hood?”

  “The one who robbed from the rich to feed the poor?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

  He nodded. “The very same. I imagined myself to be Robin, battling the evils of Prince John and his minions, determined to protect King Richard’s honor…” He trailed off with a smile as he reminisced. “Spencer and I would play in the woods behind our home for hours on end. Our father would have to come out and find us or we would never have eaten. We insisted on finding food in the woods, but he used to say, ‘Even outlaws can eat at a table,’ and so we would.”

  Moira pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Why do I get the feeling that you received your fair share of scrapes and bruises?”

  He grinned widely. “But of course I did! One could not be Robin of the Hood without climbing a great many trees, and one cannot become adept at climbing a great many trees without falling out of an even greater number. And then there was the archery, and sword fighting, and carriage seizing…”

  “My goodness,” Moira said with a laugh, “you must have been filthy little urchins indeed!”

  “We were,” he moaned. “Mother would be so appalled with the pair of us. She would call for Mrs. Whitcomb, the housekeeper, and set the task to her of getting us presentable again.” He shuddered at the memory. “I don’t believe my skin will ever be the same after the scrubbing she gave me.”

  “I’m afraid that I cannot pity you,” she said, shaking her head. “You have not known the pain of a scrubbing until you were receiving one from my aunt Miriam. I made the mistake of following one of the neighbors’ dogs on one of the days I was allowed to leave the garden, and when I returned to the house, she was so enraged she made me strip right then and there and set me in a washtub of freezing water she had used for dishes and scrubbed my skin with the same bristle brush.”

  Nathan’s amusement vanished in a sharp burst of pain. “Wait a moment. One of the days you were allowed to leave the garden?”

  She shrugged without emotion. “Most days I was not permitted to leave our property. That changed when I turned sixteen, but by that time I had nowhere to go, so most of the time I remained anyway.”

  “Moira, was your aunt… I mean… did she…?” He could not bring himself to complete an entire sentence, to even formulate the questions he had swirling about. There was too much horror involved in them.

  “I would rather not recall those days, Nathan,” she said softly, her expression pained. “It is done and I am here, well and whole.”

  “Please,” he begged in a low voice, “I only wish to help.” He could not explain it, but at the moment, he had to know what she had endured.

  She took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “Very well, but only if I can say it quickly, and without interruption, and then never speak of it again.”

  “I promise. Never again.” He held his breath, wondering if he would be able to bear whatever it was she was going to share with him, but if she had borne it, then he could bear to hear the telling of it.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Moira began to speak rapidly and in low tones that Nathan, even with his excellent hearing, had to strain to catch. “When I came to live with my aunt, the only thing that prevented her from complete neglect was the inheritance she knew I was to receive. I became her servant girl in every respect, except for wages. I spent many nights locked in a closet instead of my bedroom, which was not much bigger, because of some childish mistake I had made. I received beatings on regular occasions, and most of the time I did not know the reason, not that Aunt Miriam required a reason. We never discussed my family unless she was ranting about the inconvenience of their deaths. All the good memories I had of them I held onto with all that I had. When I had been well-behaved enough to venture out, I was spurned by most, and those that did not instead chose to mock me. I suppose my aunt had spread some rumors about me and no one doubted them.”

  She finally took an audible breath and swallowed. “My aunt died almost three years ago, and that is the end of it.”

  Nathan could not believe what he had heard. He had figured that her childhood had not been pleasant, given the losses she sustained so early, and from what she had already told him about her aunt, but he had never imagined anything so cruel. How many nights had she cried in the darkness of her closet or bedroom, wishing for any other life but her own? How many injuries had she sustained without deserving any of them? How much had she suffered in silence with no end in sight?

  Abruptly, he reined Mercury in, stopping in the middle of the road. Moira turned to look at him, stopping Flora as well. “Nathan? What is it?”

  He dismounted and walked over to her without speaking. He reached up and took her waist, then lifted her off of the horse and set her down on the ground. Before she could say anything, he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

  “I am so sorry,” he said quietly, holding her close.

  Slowly, hesitantly, she brought her arms around him. “It happened a long time ago, Nathan.”

  He nodded against her, his heart still beating too hard for comfort. “I know. But there was no one to hug you then. Now there is.”

  Chapter Ten

  The rest of the morning was spent in cheerful reminiscing and recounting of childhood tales of daring deeds that would shock any proper members of society. And Nathan’s stories were even worse.

  “I have a confession to make,” Moira said later that afternoon.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, now what?” Nathan asked, but with a smile.

  She glowered at him. “Well, if you are going to be all snippety about it, then maybe I won’t tell you after all.”

  “I am not snippety!” he said as he laughed.

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. Even your friend Colin would say you are snippety.”

  “Colin would say anything if he thought it would bring about a juicy piece of gossip,” he remarked dryly, causing Moira to snicker in response. “But come on now, and tell me.”

  “Will you be snippety about it?”

  He shrugged. “That all depends.”

  “On what, may I ask?” she scoffed.

  “On what your confession is and on your definition of snippety.”

  She quirked a brow at him, but did not comment. “Very well. My confession…” She hesitated a moment, then exhaled. “I had no idea how I was going to find Charles when I met you. Not an inkling. I had no plan, no guidance, and no set course. All I had was my determination to do something and the fact that you were the best person to help me find him, and I had not thought beyond that.” She managed a wan smile. “I was completely bluffing when I came to
you and I just thought you should know that.”

  Nathan watched her for a moment, knowing what it must have cost her to admit such a thing. He considered teasing her about it, but he decided against it. “I know.”

  “You know?” she asked in confusion. “How could you know that?”

  “Because, my dear Moira, when I approached you after that little speech you gave me, you looked absolutely terrified. I knew then that you had no idea what you were doing.” He offered her a kind, rather amused smile. “But I knew that you were trying your best to pretend that you had everything worked out, so I let you think you succeeded.”

  She stared at him, mouth gaping open for a moment. “So you knew all along?”

  He nodded. “I knew all along.”

  “Well, then, why in the world did you agree to come?” she cried, looking rather more frustrated than anything. “I was completely clueless! You would have been better served staying right where you were and telling me to shove off!”

  He bit back a grin and tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps I liked that you told me off before I had said five words. Perhaps I liked that you could shut up my friends so effectively just by standing there. Perhaps I thought your story was touching and wanted to help. Perhaps I am really a gentleman and could not allow a lady to be traveling alone. Perhaps you fascinated me and I wanted to know more. Perhaps I wanted to tell you to shove off, but I just couldn’t do it.”

  Her wide blue eyes stared at him for a long moment. “That is a rather lot of options,” she said carefully. “Which is it?”

  “All of them at once,” he said in a low voice, looking away from her. “And they rotate which is the primary reason constantly.”

  “That sounds confusing,” she commented, almost to herself.

  He snorted and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

  Moira wet her lips, then spoke softly. “Well, for whatever it is worth, I am glad you came with me.”

  He smiled and glanced over at her. “So am I.” Then his smile turned slightly devious and his eyes twinkled. “Most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?” she protested in indignation. “When do you regret it?”

  “Oh, shall we make a list?” he asked with a knowing quirk of his brow.

  “I think we should, yes,” she insisted. “I have been an excellent traveling companion. I have not complained once, which is more than I can say for you, I might add.”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  “Don’t deny it,” she overrode impatiently. “I have paid for everything, and will pay you rather generously when we are through, and thus far, we have not had to suffer overly much.”

  “Speak for yourself,” he muttered under his breath, half-hoping she would hear it.

  If she did, she gave no indication. “So let us proceed with your so-called list, shall we? What devastating trials has poor Nathan had to endure because he agreed to come along on a poorly planned expedition with Moira?”

  “Well, let me see,” he said with a sigh, as if he had to think back. “There was that first night at the inn with Margaret and Rupert.”

  Moira shuddered. “I will give you that one.”

  He nodded his acceptance, and continued. “The first night you snuck out to the stables.”

  She shook her head. “No, I won’t allow that. It was more than fair, and, as you had the stables last night, I will take my turn tonight.”

  “But…” he tried to protest.

  “No,” she insisted, shaking her head more firmly, giving him a look. “Do not argue with me. I am doing it.”

  He growled in frustration under his breath, his mind spewing all sorts of irritated expletives that made him feel only marginally better. “Your complete lack of ability or care to be ladylike.”

  As if to emphasize that point, she snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. “That is simply the way I am, Nathan. Eventually, you really will have to get over that.”

  “You say that as if it were a completely normal thing to do.”

  She sighed, and looked over at him. “How long are we going to fight about this?”

  “Oh, probably forever,” he quipped, grinning. “I am determined to be a gentleman and you are determined to be independent. I am not sure anything can be done for either of us.”

  “I am trying, you know,” she said quietly, offering a small smile. “I am trying to not be so difficult. Well, trying not to make things difficult for you, I suppose.”

  “I appreciate that. In return, I will… allow you certain liberties without commenting or reproaching.” That was really as much as he could promise. It went against his very nature to do it, but if she were going to make a concession, than so could he.

  “So you will let me sleep out in the stables tonight?”

  He refrained from grimacing, but only just. “I don’t think I could ‘let’ you do anything, Moira, as I have absolutely no control over you whatsoever. You will do whatever it is you want to do regardless of anybody else. But I will not object, if that is what you want.”

  She smiled with a suspicious light in her eyes. “You mean you will not object vocally. I can see it in your face that you object wholeheartedly.”

  “Vocally, then,” he conceded. “I will keep my feelings to myself on the subject.”

  “Thank you, Nathan.”

  Her voice was full of warmth, and it softened his resistance. He could not remain mad at her, not even for a second.

  “Just promise me that you will be safe out there, all right?” he asked, meeting her eyes seriously. “Find a corner or something away from foot traffic and hide yourself well.”

  She nodded instantly. “I promise. I will not take any chances, I give you my word.”

  Relief washed over him, however briefly. “Thank you. Now, I have an idea.”

  “You have an idea?” she teased, looking shocked and worried.

  “I do get them occasionally, you know,” he told her defensively.

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender.

  “Hrmph. What I was going to say is that we should play the Favorites Game.”

  Her brow furrowed and she looked completely lost. “I have no idea what that even is.”

  “It is quite simple. One of us picks a topic, and then we each say our favorite thing in that topic.” He smiled at her with a hint of pity. “It was a favorite childhood game of ours for long journeys. Our mother taught it to us. Did you not have any games like that?”

  “I cannot remember,” she said sadly, but with a smile.

  Feeling suddenly a little uncomfortable, he cleared his throat. “Well, then, you can pretend this one was. So any questions?”

  She brightened a bit and thought for a moment. “Any topic at all?”

  “Any topic at all,” he said with a grin. “Shall I go first?”

  She nodded excitedly.

  He shook his head in amusement at her child-like enthusiasm. He had not played this game in years, but suddenly, he was just as thrilled to play it as she was. Her eagerness was infectious.

  “All right,” he began, looking over at her. “Ready? Favorite Shakespeare play.”

  “’Much Ado About Nothing’,” she said promptly.

  “Really?” he asked in surprise.

  “Yes, really. It puts me into hysterics every time. Yours?”

  “Henry V.”

  “I should have known,” she laughed. “My turn. Favorite color.”

  “Green.”

  “All greens? Or just some?”

  “Most shades of green.”

  “Mine is blue.”

  He grinned. “All blues?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Dark and light blues, particularly.”

  “Very good. Favorite article of clothing.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked, looking at him in surprise.

  He shrugged. “Why not? It seems as good a question as any.”

  She did not look convinced. “A wrap, then. T
hat is my favorite.”

  “All right. Well, boots are mine.”

  She laughed merrily, and he smiled at her laughter. “What is so funny about that, may I ask?” he asked in mock-indignation.

  “Of all the things you wear,” she said in between breathless giggles, “the hardest to get on and off is your favorite?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s not that funny. I always envied my father his boots, and it was a great day when I was able to wear my own. They remind me of him, I suppose.” He trailed off slightly as he remembered his father, and that first day of wearing boots, and he found himself feeling a trifle sad.

  Moira sobered at his expression. “That is a good reason to have them be a favorite. Memories like that are priceless.” One side of Nathan’s mouth quirked up at her response. She smiled fondly at him. “Come on. Let’s keep going. Favorite Greek god or goddess.”

  They arrived rather later than they had planned at the inn that night, but thankfully, the innkeeper and his wife were still awake and more than happy to see them.

  “Have you any rooms available?” Nathan asked as they were ushered in.

  “Yes, sir, we have a few. Would you and your lady like one to share or separate?”

  Moira and Nathan shared a quick look, and Moira blushed slightly, which made the innkeeper chuckle.

  “Sharing it is, then,” he said with a knowing look. “What are the names?”

  “Matthew and Felicity Cresswell,” Nathan said, putting an arm around Moira and smiling back.

  “Very good. And will you be wanting some food tonight, sir?”

  “Only something light,” he assured him, not wanting to put anybody out. “Perhaps just some bread and cheese?”

  The innkeeper nodded and indicated that they sit at the table and wait for him to return, then rushed off to procure some food for them.

  “This might be our easiest time yet,” Moira hissed across the table.

  Nathan leaned forward. “Sometimes less is more,” he whispered.