An Arrangement of Sorts Read online

  She turned towards the fire and let out a shriek that she immediately covered with her hand.

  Nathan stood by the mirror and wash bin staring at her, the lower half of his face covered with shaving soap, and entirely shirtless. Entirely.

  “Good morning,” he said staring at her, his eyes amused, and a small, almost imperceptible half-smile quirking on one side of his mouth beneath the soap.

  “Good morning,” she managed from behind her hand.

  “I take it from your laughter that you slept well, regardless of the hay?” he asked, his voice innocent as if the fact that he was standing before her half naked was nothing.

  She nodded quickly, her mouth still covered.

  “That is good. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to finish my shave.”

  She nodded once more slowly, and he turned back to the mirror, but not before she caught the flash of a grin that crossed his face.

  Goodness sakes, the man had quite a build. She had once thought him ordinary looking? Was she blind? She doubted a sculptor could have done a more complete job on him. She should have known he would have been well formed, and had wondered about it several times, but she should not have thought about it at all. She should not have even contemplated anything of the sort with him. And she most definitely should not be staring at his back in such an outré fashion, particularly not when he could very plainly see her in the mirror, should he have chosen to, which she suspected he did. She would have done if she were him.

  She gave a very accurate quarter turn and sat down on the bed, facing the window, and away from him. She could feel her cheeks flaming and the burn from them helped to bring some sense to her terribly addled brain. He was merely a man who kept himself in good condition. There were many such in England, she knew. Why, some of her own farming neighbors had worked without shirts on occasion and they were exceptionally well formed. It could not be shocking that Nathan, who had, after all, served in the army, would be so as well.

  Even so, she could not help but to sneak the occasional peek back at him as he shaved. If he noticed, he did not comment on it, which she was grateful for. She could only take so much mortification in one morning. She did take note of a rather dangerous looking scar below his right shoulder. It was faded and the skin stretched, but she could only imagine the damage the original wound had caused. Had he a similar scar in the front? She couldn’t remember; her brain had been slightly occupied when he had been facing her so. Where had he received such a scar? What hand had caused it?

  Before she could think more on it, he turned towards her, his face now devoid of soap. “Well, if you have quite recovered yourself, Mrs. Granger, I think you had better get yourself out of those fetching breeches of yours and into a dress. We would not wish to scandalize our fine hosts, now, would we?”

  She almost shook her head stupidly in response, but caught herself. Oh, now, wait a minute. Who said that he got to be all superior this morning? He had been just as startled by her appearance last night as she had been by his this morning, except he had words and she did not. That was changing now.

  She smiled sweetly at him. “I rather like my fetching breeches, but if you think it best, Mr. Granger, I will certainly change out of them. But I do believe you ought to cover your… self as well. We would not want poor Mrs. Fletcher to faint away before breakfast, now, would we?”

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Of course not. But I would not have been so indecently dressed had I known I would be receiving visitors this early.”

  “But a wife is no visitor, Mr. Granger,” Moira said coyly, standing from the bed and moving over towards her dress.

  “A wife does not sleep in the stables either,” he pointed out, watching her warily.

  She shrugged, and picked up her dress, shaking it out. “If the wife does not object to sleeping in stables, and can sleep rather well in them, then why should the husband complain? Surely he would appreciate the benefit of a night well spent in comfort without a wife to inconvenience him.”

  “Because the husband cannot sleep well knowing that the wife is out in a cold, dank stable with the animals, open and exposed to all elements and God knows what else, when she should be safe and warm inside!” he shouted, as he strode over until he was directly in front of her.

  She looked up at him, tilting her head slightly. “You did not sleep well?”

  He released a gust of air and his voice took on a very forced calm. “No. I hardly slept at all.”

  “That is a pity,” she said softly, her eyes flicking down to the scar on his chest. “I slept very well indeed.” Her eyes shot back up to his and she quirked a brow at him.

  His eyes held hers for a moment, then he quickly turned from her. He picked his shirt up from off of the floor and dropped it over his head. “Well, hurrah for you, then, Moira,” he said as he began tucking the ends of his shirt into his trousers. “As I said, I did not, so forgive me if I am not so cheerful. If you have no objections, I will go and see what our hosts have prepared for breakfast. Perhaps you will get back into whatever your character was before coming down yourself?”

  She folded her arms and glared at him. “I know my character, Nathan, as do you. She was your creation, after all.”

  “Yes,” he retorted, sitting down to put his boots on, “and because of that, you received a hot bath and some decent food, but I do not hear you being grateful for any of it. All you could do was sneak off to the stables.” The last of his words came out in a grumble, and he shook his head.

  Moira could see the agitation from last night was still rampant in Nathan. What a poor man to have to deal with her and her eccentricities while trying to be proper. She heaved a sigh and walked over to him, taking hold of the bedpost near him. “You are right. Thank you for encouraging them to take care of me so well, even if she did fuss overly much. And the food was excellent. I wish we could have equal quality at all of our stops.”

  Nathan set his now booted feet down and looked up at her. He offered her a reluctant smile and stood. “You are welcome. I am sorry that I made you sound so very ill.”

  She returned his smile and leaned her head against the hand on the bedpost. “I deserved that one. Margaret was dreadful. Celia is a fair compensation.”

  He chuckled and leaned on the post himself. “Do you think we will ever get through a night without fighting?”

  “Hmm,” she mused, looking up at him, “probably not. Perhaps that should be our task tonight. But then, it might make for a very dull evening.”

  He grinned at her. “You may be right. Whatever would we do?”

  For a moment, they just smiled at each other, not feeling any need to speak. An odd sort of pleasant tension filled the room, and the air about them suddenly seemed a bit thinner.

  A bell sounded downstairs, and they sprang apart as if burned.

  “I should change,” Moira hastily said, backing away.

  “Yes, of course,” Nathan answered, moving for the door, “and I should get downstairs and see what food there is.”

  “I will join you shortly.”

  He nodded and left the room quickly, not looking back at her.

  Moira took a deep breath from within the room and changed as quickly as she could. Fighting with Nathan always left her with a strange feeling of exhilaration, but what had happened just then… That moment when the fight had been forgotten and they had been simply been Nathan and Moira, with no hurts or worries to plague them.

  It had been a rush of feelings she was not prepared for, but she was not certain she could identify any of the emotions involved.

  She had to push all of that out of her mind now. She had to become Celia Granger again. Her nose wrinkled up at the name, but there was not time to think up a better one. She pulled the cap from off of her head and brushed her hair out as best as she could, then plaited and pinned it up neatly. Her cheeks still looked too rosy for an ill woman with delicate health. She moved to the wash bin and splashed her fac
e with some of the cool water, wishing that Nathan had not made her out to be quite so ill as he had.

  She looked at her reflection for a long moment, her thoughts awhirl. She took a few steadying breaths, then reached for the cursed bonnet on the floor and headed for the door.

  It was only a matter of minutes before Moira joined Nathan in the main room of the inn, looking very proper and demure in her dress and bonnet. From all appearances, it looked as though Mrs. Granger had received some truly good care during their stay. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks ever so slightly tinged with color, and her smile warm. Nathan was relieved that her good mood was going to continue on. She played at shyness as she took the seat across from him, but when she met his eyes, he saw her amusement in them.

  He winked at her and her small smile flickered into something bigger for only a brief moment, and then she was back as the docile Celia.

  “My dear Mrs. Granger!” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice cried out as she appeared as if out of nowhere.

  Moira’s smile held steady, much to her credit. “Mrs. Fletcher.”

  “Oh, my dear girl, you look so refreshed this morning!” Mrs. Fletcher cried, taking her hands. “It must have been the tea that I brought you! That was it, was it not?”

  “It may have been,” Moira allowed in a very small voice, but with a gentle turn of her smile. “I am feeling much better this morning, and it is all thanks to you and your excellent care.”

  Nathan tried not to laugh as he started on his meal, but when he received a sharp kick to his shins, he sobered. “Yes, I cannot thank you enough, Mrs. Fletcher. My Celia has not looked this well in some time.”

  “Oh,” the woman fluttered, placing a hand to her chest, “I am only too eager to help where I can. Now do let me pack you a little something for later. You cannot search for your dear brother without the proper sustenance!”

  “Oh, you are too good, Mrs. Fletcher,” Moira said in a very grateful sounding voice, but Nathan caught the tick of her lips that indicated she was trying not to laugh.

  “Not at all, not at all,” she tittered as she went off in search of some food for her new favorite patron.

  “Well played, my dear,” Nathan murmured as he took a drink. “You are becoming quite the actress.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” she responded, taking a bite of her food. “That tea she made me drink tasted very much like how I imagined grass tastes.”

  He chortled into his own meal and swallowed quickly as to avoid choking. “Well, you are a good sport for going along with her.”

  She shrugged. “She is kind hearted and I cannot fault her intentions. What about you? Shouldn’t Mr. Fletcher be seeking you out to volley you with his desires to serve?”

  He grimaced, and shook his head. “I have already seen good Mr. Fletcher this morning, and he has other patrons he has now moved on to. But a speedy departure once we have our parcel of food might be advisable. They might bring you more tea to keep up your constitution.”

  “Tossing that tea off of the Tower of London would keep up my constitution much more than drinking it would,” she muttered darkly, making him laugh again.

  “Do you know, Mrs. Granger, I think you are becoming quite vivacious,” he commented, leaning back in his seat. “Perhaps we should stay here for a few days and see if we can’t get you back to robust.”

  The look Moira give him would have frozen an entire company of soldiers in their tracks.

  He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “Very well, then, we’ll go on. Let’s just finish eating and then take our leave.”

  They did so speedily, for the Fletchers looked as though they were about to descend upon them once more. They took their leave as fast as they could manage, which was not very fast considering their hosts, but once they had the parcel in hand, they were able to convince the Fletchers that they really had to be going. Nathan cast one last look at their table to be sure they had collected all of their belongings, and noticed a sum of money on the table that he had not placed there. He looked to Moira, who was not paying any attention to him at all as she started towards the horses. Again she had paid for everything, and paid generously. He had questioned last night when she had simply given him the coins for their stay, but she had insisted. To now have more money to give to the same place was odd.

  Not that he was disapproving, for he thought they certainly deserved some additional compensation. But if they were going to keep on this way, he was not sure how much she would be able to afford to give out and still have enough for his promised pay.

  He had no intention of taking any money from her, regardless of what she thought. He had no need for it, and she would need all of the funds she could once they found her betrothed.

  He did not understand why she was so determined to pay, or how she was able to do so without worry.

  But he was determined to find out, if for no other reason than to assure himself that she was not putting herself into financial ruins for this missing fellow of hers that was, more than likely, not willing to do the same for her.

  And if Nathan needed to help financially to make sure that she did not, then he would do so, never mind his own attempts at privacy.

  Moira was worth it.

  Chapter Eight

  “Might I ask you a rather personal question?” Moira asked when they had been riding for a while.

  Nathan looked very surprised, but not at all hesitant. “Of course.”

  “I don’t want to pry,” she told him earnestly, praying she would not offend.

  He smiled. “If you are, I will tell you, or else I will pass on the question.”

  She nodded, then bit her lip in hesitation. It was a terrible habit, but she tended to do so whenever she was nervous or uncertain. Her aunt had tried to forbid her from doing it, but she had not been successful. Someday, she supposed, she would wind up gnawing her lip quite off. But there was nothing for it.

  “When you were… well, when I happened upon you suddenly this morning,” she corrected with a slight blush. She had recollected the memory quite often, but that little fact would remain her secret.

  He waved off her embarrassment, but said nothing.

  “I noticed that you have a scar on your back and chest that appear to be from the same wound. If it is not too personal, would you tell me how you got them?”

  Nathan sighed and hesitated, and Moira could see the internal struggle that was waging in him. His expression was one of anxiety and of pain, his brow furrowed.

  “Is it really so painful to talk about?” she asked quietly as she watched him.

  “Not painful,” he said slowly, “just not very pleasant.”

  “If you want to pass, Nathan, you can.” He owed her no explanation, and she should never have asked.

  He shook his head, as if suddenly deciding. “No. No, I will share it. But I warn you, it’s not a very good story.”

  “With a scar that looks like that, I hardly expected it to be,” she told him with what she hoped was understanding.

  “I was nineteen when I joined the army,” he began. “I was mad with the glory of it all. I had lived a very dull life up to that point, or so I thought, and the idea of being in that uniform, of battling for King and country, sweating and fighting and sacrificing on the field of battle, was all I could think about. Of course, once in the army I learned that there were very few battles, if one was doing the job right…” He trailed off and shrugged. “It was not as glamorous as I had dreamed.”

  “But safe,” Moira murmured almost to herself.

  He nodded. “I did not understand the fortune that was ours. But after two years, it was time for battle and we were not ready. I had a few men under my command, but they were boys, really. Many could not even manage to fire their guns properly. I was terrified that I would lead them into something from which they would never return.”

  “A legitimate concern, I think,” Moira soothed with a smile

  He did not return it. Suddenly it occur
red to Moira that the worst was yet to come. “I was… called away for a time… and when I returned, I found my men improved in battle essentials. At last, we would be able to be a proper force for the army. The day finally came when we could face battle, and we were ready. But our foes were numerous, much more than we had anticipated, more than even the reports had indicated. We were completely outnumbered. Looking back on it now, we should have retreated, waited for reinforcements. But there was no thought in my head but to attack. We would not turn from our duty. I would not abandon my responsibility.”

  Moira listened carefully, a feeling of dread welling up in her. It was as though Nathan were back in those harried moments before the battle, and she was not here at all. His voice was distant, his eyes unfocused. Half of her wished that she would make him stop, but the other half silently urged him on.

  “I turned to my men,” he continued in the same tone, “and gave my orders. They knew that my orders were to be obeyed without question; it is the nature of the army. But when I sounded the call, none moved. My highly trained and dedicated soldiers would not do it. They had talked boldly of the brave actions they would perform when called upon when they were safe around their campfires or boasting to young ladies infatuated with nothing more than the regimentals on their back, but when faced with an opportunity to prove themselves, they would not. I was enraged.”

  She could only imagine. If there was one thing about Nathan Hammond that she knew well, it was his high opinion of duty. The idea that an entire company of men refused to do theirs would have offended him beyond reckoning.

  “I called them all cowards and a disgrace to the banner they held so proudly. I said that if I could not have men that would do their duty and put the good of others before themselves, then I would go before them at the expense of my own life, as was the call of a soldier in His Majesty’s army. I turned from them and went to my horse.”