Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau Read online

  The urge to smile fled. “You won’t need to worry about that for long.”

  He arched his brows. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re leaving soon, are you not?”

  He continued to stare.

  Her tongue tied into knots. “And also, I’ll be leaving soon.”

  His brows hitched. “Leaving?”

  “For London.”

  A long silence passed as he studied her. “To find a husband.”

  Her lips felt stiff, her heart too erratic under his watchful gaze. “That is the idea, yes.”

  “Hmmph.” He turned back to the whittling in his hand and she found herself staring at the top of his head and a now snoring Anna.

  She turned to look out at the setting sun with an exasperated sigh. Hmmph, indeed.

  Chapter 6

  Caleb stared at the woman who’d somehow become a regular fixture in his home. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious.”

  And she was. This much was certain. Everything about her was earnest and sincere.

  That was Abigail, through and through. Genuine. Real. The only woman he’d ever met who had no pretenses. She was...easy like that. Easy to be around, at least. Quick to smile, even quicker to laugh, and not at all caught up in the superficial concerns that had always eluded him.

  Well, she was easy to be around when she wasn’t torturing him with her mere presence.

  He liked her. He could admit that. Even now as she met his gaze with that expectant, sweet little smile...he liked her, yes. Who wouldn’t? It wasn’t many women who would befriend a giant, ill-tempered beast with a history of crime and danger.

  But she hadn’t just befriended him, she’d formed...expectations.

  “You want me to do what exactly?” he asked. The shock in his voice lost some of its power as Polly chased that toddling little redheaded boy across his sitting room.

  Abigail’s attention was on them rather than him. “Polly, no running inside. I’ve told you before.”

  He stared at her profile as she used that tone that he found so soothing. It was strong, in command, and gentle, all at once.

  Polly stopped. “Yes, Miss Abigail.”

  It was also a voice that the children heeded, when they did not so much as blink when he spoke. Abigail turned back to him. “I would pay you, of course.” He glared until she flushed and murmured, “Or not.”

  “I am not taking your money.” He wished he could storm off, but his little two-room cottage was once more overrun with her ever-present little army of pests. Snow was falling outside or he would have asked her to step outside so they could speak in relative peace. The only other room in this hut was his bedroom, and he certainly wasn’t inviting her in there.

  Abigail wasn’t frightened of him—the silly fool—but she ought to be if he went and invited her into his private rooms.

  The very thought had him scraping a hand through his hair as he watched Nicholas herd a few small demons into the kitchen area as he pretended to be a creature that would eat them.

  Many squeals and giggles followed.

  Abigail shifted forward so he might hear her over the chaos. “Might I ask you a personal question?” Her eyes were wide and bright. She was standing far too close. And yet it seemed her little army was herding them closer and closer as they circled round, like he’d seen dolphins do to their prey out at sea.

  A personal question. He nearly laughed that she thought to ask for permission now—weeks too late. “Is there any way I could stop you?”

  She ignored that. “Can you read, Caleb?”

  Once again, she’d shocked him into silence.

  She hurried to move even closer to his side, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper. “I apologize if that is a rude question.”

  He looked away, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he tried to figure out where she was going with this.

  “But if you cannot read...” She bit her lip as he glared down at her. “Then I suppose I thought, perhaps…that is, maybe...”

  He sighed in exasperation. It wasn’t like Abigail to get tongue-tied around him and he didn’t care for it. “What if I can’t read?”

  She clasped her hands together. “I thought I might teach you.”

  He went stock still, his muscles tensing as if he was preparing for battle. “What?”

  She licked her lips as she widened her eyes. “If you’d like, that is.”

  If he’d like... His gaze seemed to have caught on her lips and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away. Even the sound of the little devils at his feet couldn’t quite break through this moment. The air felt thick with tension like he’d never known. His chest felt too tight and the cottage too warm by far, even though the drafty old thing was frigid.

  She took a step closer and shocked the life out of him by resting a hand on his arm as if to gain his attention. Peering up at him, she looked tentative but hopeful. “Would you like that, Caleb?”

  “Yes.” One word and it seemed to upend his world.

  Abigail beamed, the children around him shrieked—well, they hadn’t stopped shrieking and giggling since they’d arrived, but for a moment there he hadn’t been aware of it. Now he was, and his ears hurt.

  “Wonderful!” Abigail exclaimed.

  “What’s wonderful?” Nicholas asked.

  Ever the nosy one, that Nicholas. Caleb looked to Abigail to answer. This was her big surprise she was planning, after all. She’s asked him to whittle a small toy for each of the little ones as a sort of going away present when she left. She’d be leaving for London before the holidays, and she knew as he did that they would miss her something fierce.

  As would he.

  He frowned at the thought. He’d never missed anyone a day in his life. He’d made certain no one held that sort of power over him. Sure, he might miss the camaraderie of Marcus and the rest of his crew, but it wasn’t as though he was sitting here pining for them.

  He stared at Abigail’s profile in horror.

  Would he be pining over her when she was gone?

  The mere thought was repulsive. How on earth had she gotten so thoroughly entangled in his life?

  She reached out and tousled Nicholas’s hair. “Never you mind, Nicholas. How are your mathematics coming along?”

  Then she was off, taking care of the little ones, and teaching each one with more patience than he’d ever witnessed.

  She was something, his Abigail.

  He turned away with a frown. No, she wasn’t his. She was leaving, and so was he. He had places to go.

  Where?

  He had things to do.

  Like what?

  He growled as he moved toward his chair by the fire, the only seat that wasn’t currently occupied by a small army of little people. He’d had too much time to think since their journey to her aunt’s estate a few days before. Far too much thinking had been going on. Little of it useful. None of it good.

  He supposed it was about time he gave some serious thought to where he would go next and what he would do, but learning that Abigail was leaving for London hadn’t helped. Without her visits, without her here to protect...

  Oh, he’d stick around until Captain Jones thought it safe, but his time here was coming to a close and it was well past time that he decided what to do and where to do it.

  London, he supposed. He eyed Abigail as she moved about. He could continue to keep an eye on her if he went too.

  He gave his head a shake. And do what? Watch her parade around with a bunch of stuffed-shirt lords and the like?

  “Are you angry?” Polly appeared at his side and he turned to see her gazing up at him.

  “No, pet.” He reached out and patted her on her head, making her grin. “I’m not angry.”

  And then she…well, he wasn’t sure what to call it but he suspected she was cuddling him. She climbed up onto his lap and curled into a ball. He held his arms aloft for a bit as he looked down at the little ball of energy. When at last he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he dropped his arms so he was holding her and she gave a contented sigh.

  He made the mistake of looking up just then and caught Abigail watching him with a smile that made his chest ache with something he’d never known. If he’d ever had a home, he suspected this was what it felt like to yearn for it.

  A home. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the fire. He supposed that was what he ought to be building for himself. Now that he was going to be on land for the foreseeable future, he ought to have a proper home. He eyed the wooden slats of his ceiling. Something like this would do if only it were in better condition.

  But of course, he wouldn’t stay here.

  Why not?

  He ignored Abigail’s stare, but he could feel it. What was she thinking? About her upcoming trip, no doubt. It was for the best that she was leaving. She deserved to find a fine gentleman, and he...

  Well, he had nothing to offer anybody, least of all a fine young lady such as her.

  A knock on the door had them both glancing over just as her sister pushed through the door, a flurry of snowflakes coming in behind her.

  “Hattie!” Several of the children ran to the short blonde’s side, making her laugh.

  “Well, hullo there,” she said as she wrapped her arms around them and held them tight.

  “It seems maternal affection runs in your family,” he said. In truth, it came out as an accusation, and he was startled when Abigail laughed. “Hardly. Our mother left us when we were children.”

  Hattie’s eyes widened in surprise, but Abigail gave her sister a small shrug. “Caleb here has saved my life, I think we can trust him with our family secrets, don’t you?”

  Hattie smiled over at him. She had Abigail’
s fair coloring, but her smile reminded him of Minerva’s. Filled with mischief. She might have been the quiet sister, but he suspected she’d cause trouble if given half a chance.

  “I suppose he’s proven himself trustworthy,” Hattie teased. Her cheeks flushed pink as she said it.

  He wasn’t so foolish as to think the youngest sister was blushing because of him. He’d watched all the sisters long enough to know that Hattie was the sister who blushed in the company of any man.

  Abigail, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice that he even was a man. She was at his side now and he could have sworn her warmth overshadowed the flickering flames coming from the fireplace.

  Stuff and nonsense. It was definitely for the best that she was leaving. Surely she’d done something to his head.

  “Our mother was declared lost at sea, as you know,” Abigail said softly beside him. “But father told us the truth. She’d left us to chase after her passions, to live a life at sea...” She gave another small shrug, her smile small and sweet. “So, you see, none of us had the sort of maternal affection you mentioned.”

  “Nonsense.” Hattie looked offended. “Rebecca, Sally, and I always had you and Min. No one could have asked for more affection.”

  Abigail’s smile grew, but thanks to Caleb’s preoccupation with her lips, he caught the way they wobbled. For a moment he wondered—if the younger sisters had Abigail and Minerva, who did Abigail and Minerva have?

  His heart gave an unexpected lurch in his chest as he became increasingly aware of the little ones rushing around, looking to Abigail for comfort and protection. They looked to her to take care of them.

  But who took care of Abigail?

  She turned quickly and he was caught staring. For a moment, that brilliant smile of hers faltered at whatever she saw in his expression, but then her eyes warmed with affection and a happiness that made his chest tighten painfully.

  “Do we have a deal then?” she asked.

  He didn’t have to think. He nodded. Of course they had a deal. Was it wise to continue these daily visits? Of course not. But she would be leaving soon enough, and so would he. So where was the harm?

  And besides, this way he could keep an eye on her until she left. He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure she was happy. And when it was time for her to leave, he’d let her go...

  To find another man.

  Chapter 7

  Abigail took a sip of her soup and tried not to notice how empty the room was.

  It was difficult to do when the only sound breaking the silence was that of slurping. For a table that was typically overrun with laughter and chatter and conversation, this new state of silence felt suffocating.

  But her father wasn’t a man of many words, and even now Hattie looked lost in thought. Daydreaming, no doubt.

  “Any word from Sally and Rebecca?” she asked.

  Both her father and Hattie glanced up with wide eyes, startled out of their reveries.

  Tenderness toward them both had her holding back a laugh. She could only imagine how quiet and serene it would be around here when all the older sisters married and left the house and it was only these two.

  She bit back a sigh. It was bound to happen, of course. They couldn’t all stay here in this town and in this house forever. They would all go off and marry. Start families of their own. Thoughts of her looming trip to London threatened to mar her good humor so she pushed those thoughts to the side.

  “Hmm?” her father said. Then he blinked and brushed some soup off his white mustache. “No, nothing yet. I imagine they’ve only just gotten settled. Dr. Roberts says the old earl is a rather demanding patient so Sally no doubt has her work cut out for her.”

  Hattie’s lips curved up in a mischievous little grin. “And Rebecca has her work cut out for her trying to fit in amongst the fine lords and ladies.”

  Abigail laughed and their father chuckled as he said, “I imagine she’s in heaven right about now.”

  Yet another sigh nearly escaped. Rebecca would be over the moon for the chance to head to London for the season. This was what she wanted, not Abigail. It hardly seemed fair that she was chosen, merely because of her advanced age.

  Advanced age. She frowned down at her soup. That made her sound like an elderly spinster.

  Which she would be if she did not take steps to marry.

  “Are you all right, Abigail?” her father’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  She blinked and lifted her head with a smile. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking about my trip to London.”

  He nodded. “It was kind of my sister to offer.” Despite his words, his eyes looked clouded with concern. “You do wish to go, don’t you?”

  She paused to consider her answer. She’d never been one to lie, and she did not wish to start now. “I wish to find a husband,” she said with a rueful smile. “And London seems to be the place for it.”

  Hattie and her father stared at her, the force of their concern stifling. What she needed was Minerva here to strike up a new conversation, or Sally to joke about the fancy airs she’d have to put up with, which would be followed by Rebecca’s laughing argument that it wasn’t fancy airs if these lords and ladies were born into it.

  As it was, Abigail, Hattie, and their father fell back into silence.

  After another long stretch, Abigail tried again. “Has there been any news of Roger?”

  Her father frowned. “I’m afraid not.”

  She sat back in her seat, her soup temporarily forgotten. “What do you suppose he’d meant by ‘she will murder me?’” Those were the words she hadn’t been able to forget from that awful encounter in the cave. She will murder me, Roger had said. She. Who was she?

  Her father paused in his eating but he did not glance up so she could not gauge his reaction.

  Exasperated, no doubt. She and Minerva had been hung up on that comment ever since that night. For Abigail, Roger’s words in the cave had clung to her memory, repeating over and over again at the most inconvenient times. Like when she was supposed to be sleeping. She had this suspicion that she was supposed to know who ‘she’ was, or that by learning who ‘she’ was they would understand why Roger had done what he’d done, and why here in Billingham, of all places.

  She supposed it was only natural that such an eventful night would not be easily forgotten. It was difficult not to play the game of ‘if only’ and ‘what if’ when she did. What if she’d let Roger leave without following? Would anything have turned out differently?

  Caleb wouldn’t have been hurt, no doubt. Perhaps Roger wouldn’t have escaped. Guilt gnawed at her, as always. She would never forget the sheer shock and terror when Roger had lunged toward her with a knife, nor the surprise when Caleb had thrown himself in front of her, taking the force of the knife to spare her.

  Perhaps if she hadn’t been so foolish and impulsive they would have their answers. The answers Marcus, Caleb, and their men had come to Billingham to find. Namely, who was behind this new pirate ring that was terrorizing merchant ships and forming smuggling connections on land.

  Her father continued eating, never responding to her question. For the best, no doubt. She had no idea what she thought she’d do with the information. The pirates had nothing to do with her life here in this town, and so long as the smugglers steered clear of her town and the fort, they were none of her concern.

  But Caleb was.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Whether he liked it or not, his being here was her fault and that meant he was her responsibility. “Father?”

  “Hmm?” He was more focused on his meal than on her.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Mr. Calhoun.”

  Her father looked up at that. “Caleb?”

  The use of his given name inexplicably made her blush. “Yes, I was thinking...I owe him a great deal—”

  “And you’ve gone above and beyond to repay that man,” her father said.

  “Yes, well...” She smoothed her skirts. It didn’t quite feel right to accept that compliment. As though she were doing Caleb a favor by visiting every day. Bringing him food and helping tend to his injuries was the least she could do.

  “How is his reading coming along?” Hattie asked.

  A warm glow filled her chest and it was hard to breathe. The memory of her last visit was still fresh in her mind. “He is not exactly an eager pupil,” she said in the understatement of a lifetime. “But he’s patient and interested.”