Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau Page 7

  That was also an understatement. She dipped her head to avoid Hattie’s searching gaze. Their lessons were far from intimate, what with her children forever running about in his cottage and with Hattie popping in and out. But these last few days they’d carved out time and managed some semblance of privacy as she reviewed the letters and their sounds.

  Caleb was indeed patient. Mostly silent, but he never grew frustrated. If anything, he seemed more interested in her than the lessons. Every time she’d glanced up from the slate board she’d brought with her to review letters, she found his gaze fixed on her.

  “Are you warm, dear?” her father asked. “You look flushed.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

  Hattie continued to eye her with a mischievous glint in her eye that made Abigail shift in her seat again. She changed her mind. Perhaps it was for the best that the other girls were away for the time being. One nosy sister was likely the most she could handle.

  “About Caleb,” she started.

  Her father lifted his head to look at her.

  She cleared her throat. This was a topic she’d been meaning to bring up for some time. Ever since she’d seen Caleb’s new home. “Do you think perhaps you could help him?”

  Her father’s brows arched high. “Help him how, exactly?”

  She toyed with her spoon. “To find employment, perhaps?”

  Her father stared at her unblinking for a long moment. Then he surprised her by bursting out in a laugh.

  She frowned. “I was not in jest, Father. After all he has done for us, I think we ought to help Caleb however we can.”

  Her father was still chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. “Abigail, I know you mean well, but I highly doubt Caleb needs nor wants our assistance.”

  “But he has no work anymore,” she protested. Not that she was entirely sure his former profession could be considered ‘work.’

  “Yes, well, I had many a conversation with Marcus about this very topic.” He arched a brow. “You do not think I’d let him marry our dear Minerva if he could not provide for her, do you?”

  Abigail clamped her mouth shut. It hadn’t occurred to her that her father might have more knowledge about Caleb and his situation than she did. Considering she’d gone to visit him at his home nearly every day this past fortnight, she felt rather possessive of the man. Protective, even.

  Which was silly because of course he did not need her protection. But she did not need his any longer, either. So their time together was running out and she could not stop this feeling of dread at the separation to come.

  Perhaps if she knew he was established and comfortable. Then her mind would be put at ease. “Perhaps you could find him a position at the fort,” she started.

  Her father’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Abigail, from what I understand, your Caleb could buy the fort and call it his own if he wished.”

  She gaped at him. He must have been joking. “I thought...er, that is...were you not paying him to stay and keep watch?”

  Her father’s brows arched so high they disappeared into his hairline. “Me pay him? Of course not. Our officers might not be the best of the bunch, but I feel certain that we could keep this town safe from pirates and smugglers without Caleb’s help.”

  She bit her lip, resisting the urge to point out that they wouldn't have even known about the smuggling going on right beneath his nose if it hadn’t been for Caleb. And Marcus, of course. Her father was sensitive enough about the fact that Roger had fooled him and his men so thoroughly. But all this time, she’d thought Caleb had stuck around out of obligation to Marcus and for his own gain. Now, however...

  “So, he truly is here because...because...”

  Her father gave his head a shake. “He has his own moral compass, I’ll give him that much. I wouldn’t have thought it of a privateer. But there you have it.” He wagged his finger in her direction. “The man feels an obligation to you, it seems, and to this town.”

  She swallowed thickly, her belly twisting and her heart thumping as she realized what that meant. He’d stayed...for her.

  The thought kept her just as silent as her father and sister for the remainder of the meal and barely able to pay attention as Hattie read aloud to them as she did most evenings. Her head was still spinning with this revelation the next day as she headed toward town to gather her children for their lessons. She’d then bring them with her to Caleb’s place.

  They made for excellent chaperones those little ones. Not that anyone seemed to mind that she was spending time at Caleb’s cottage. Her father had been surprisingly lax in ensuring that Hattie or her maid went with her, although one or both usually stopped by while she was there.

  It was almost as though her father trusted him.

  She definitely did. The thought stuck with her in a way that was not quite pleasant. What did it mean that she trusted a man who she knew so little? What did it mean that he’d stayed?

  What did it mean that she looked forward to her daily visits to him more than anything else in the world?

  And lastly, what did it mean that she was dreading saying goodbye?

  Her stomach twisted at the thought of leaving, even more so when she tried to imagine this new life in London. But that all paled to this desperate sensation that made her feel shaky and weak when she thought of saying goodbye to her new friend.

  She was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly ran right into Polly, who was hovering at the edge of the path that led into town. “Polly, dear? Did you come to walk with me?”

  Polly nodded, all sweet and toothless smiles as she took Abigail’s hand. “That man told me to find you,” she said.

  “What man?” She looked down at the little girl whose parents ran the mercantile. Her mother was expecting another child and by the size of her she would have another daughter or son any day now. “Do you mean Caleb?”

  Polly shook her head and pointed into the trees. “That other man. The one who was sweet on your sister.”

  “Min?” As she said it, her mind raced. Her first thought was Marcus, but of course that made no sense. “Roger,” she breathed.

  The girl nodded eagerly. “That was his name. He told me to fetch you.” She held out her palm, a small coin lodged there. “He gave me this.”

  Abigail’s heart pounded wildly. “Where was he, Polly?”

  Polly pointed into the thicket of trees. “By Mr. Arnold’s old shed.”

  Her heart was pounding so fiercely now she could barely hear Polly’s words. The old shed. A dilapidated old structure deep in the woods that was the only thing to survive the Arnold’s house fire years before. Mr. Arnold had moved into town, but the shed remained.

  She stood frozen for a moment. “He sent you to fetch me?” she asked.

  Polly nodded, her eyes wide and serious. “You and only you.” The way she said it made it sound as though she were repeating something she’d memorized.

  “What else did he say?”

  Polly shrugged. “Not much. Just that you’d want to see him. That you’d know better than to tell your father.” Her face screwed up as she thought. “That’s it.”

  Abigail nodded. She doubted the little girl had any idea that she was passing along barely veiled threats. Forcing a reassuring smile, she squatted so her face was level with Polly’s. “Dear, I need you to listen very carefully. Can you do that?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Go straight to Caleb. Don’t wait for the others and don’t dally, understand?”

  Polly nodded again.

  “You tell him exactly what you told me.”

  “But the man said—”

  Abigail arched a brow and Polly instantly grew silent. “I need you to do as I say, Polly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gave the girl a quick hug and sent her off. “Be sure to tell Caleb everything.” She waved when the girl turned back. “He’ll know what to do.”

  She hoped.

  Heaven knew she had no idea what she was doing, but she wasn’t about to let Roger escape. Not again. Not if she could stop him.

  Turning to face the woods she drew in one deep breath, said a little prayer for Minerva’s strength, and headed into the woods.

  Chapter 8

  Caleb stared down at the face of a little angel and tried not to roar with frustration. “What do you mean, she went?”

  Polly’s eyes were wide and the other children were starting to arrive. “Where’s Miss Abigail?” he heard one of them ask.

  He shook his head, ignoring them. The fate of the world rested on the shoulders of this tiny little thing. He bent down so he was on one knee and used the gentlest voice he could summon. “Tell me everything she said, Polly. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Even hearing it for a second time didn’t help. If anything it made his panic and his anger surge beyond his control. What had Abigail been thinking, heading off to meet him on her own?

  He spun away from Polly with a curse and a growl that had Nicholas and some of the others gathering around. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

  “It had better be,” he muttered as he gathered his things. Weapons he’d thought he’d never need to carry again were slid into place as he barked out orders for Nicholas to keep an eye on the others. He gave the boy his watch. “If you don’t see or hear from me within the half hour, you go to the fort. You get the captain and tell him to send his best men to the old Arnolds’ shed. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  For the first time in his life, Caleb wavered. Should he send for the captain now? Or would too many noisy officers swarming the woods send Roger into a panic.

  Anger and adrenaline had his heart pounding as he ran toward the edge of the woods. He’d never for
get the fear in Roger’s eyes that night. The blind panic as he’d held a knife to Abigail’s neck.

  No. He couldn’t risk Roger panicking. Not again.

  But that day in the cave...she hadn’t panicked. Abigail had been frightened, but she hadn’t succumbed to fear. She’d kept a clear head. That realization helped him clear his head now. Abigail might not seek out adventure like her sister Minerva, but when faced with danger, she’d been brave.

  His brave, kind Abigail.

  This time he didn’t even bother to chastise himself for thinking of her as his. For today, for right now...she was his.

  His to protect. His to care for.

  And he would do absolutely anything to get her back.

  He was still a ways out from the old worn shed when he heard her shout. His heart flew into his throat when he realized she was shouting his name. And then there she was. Not far away, but not nearly close enough.

  She stopped moving, freezing in place at whatever it was she saw on his face.

  “I’m all right,” she said on a rush of air when he approached. “I am not hurt.”

  When he reached her he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as his hands roved over her searching for injuries. He pulled back to clasp her face between his palms, needing to see with his own eyes that she was indeed unharmed.

  Her big blue eyes stared back at him and he lost all track of everything. Time. Place. Context.

  For one beautiful, exhilarating, terrifying moment, all that mattered in the world was that she was here. Safe. In his arms. He didn’t think. He didn’t pause.

  He kissed her.

  Leaning down he claimed her lips with his own in a kiss that seared him to his very soul. After a shocked pause, she kissed him back.

  He groaned at the feel of her eager kisses, the way her lips, so soft, so sweet, parted beneath his as if she too was just as desperate for closeness.

  As if she too needed this. Because he needed it. The taste of her lips, the warmth of her body in his arms, the scent of her skin and the feel of her heat...

  Home.

  The word lanced through him like a spear. Home. Home, home, home. The word haunted him as he tried to tear himself away. But the moment he pulled back she made the sweetest little noise in her throat. A whimper of need that had him crushing her to him, holding her close so she knew she was safe.

  “I have you,” he whispered in her ear. “I have you.”

  She shivered a bit and pushed against his chest. When her gaze clashed with his it was filled with all the shock and heat and confusion that he was feeling.

  He forced himself to look away first. To assess their surroundings. He hadn’t seen or heard Roger when he’d approached, but it wouldn't do to drop his guard just because this woman had gotten under his skin.

  And into his heart.

  He shoved the thought to the side. “Where did he go?”

  “He’s long gone,” she said with a sigh and a shake of her head.

  “But he didn’t hurt you?”

  She shook her head again.

  “What did he want?”

  “To talk.” Her brows drew together and her tone held a note of amazement. “He wanted my help.”

  After ascertaining that Roger was nowhere in sight, Caleb wrapped an arm about Abigail and led her back to his cottage. Nicholas visibly slumped in relief at the sight of them.

  He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder as the boy went to hand over his pocket watch. “You did good, Nicholas.”

  It was grumbled praise, at best, but the boy lit up as if he’d just won a lifetime of riches. Caleb didn’t miss Abigail’s poorly hidden smile.

  When Abigail had the children calm and content, the older ones helping the little ones with their lessons, she finally turned her attention to him.

  His gaze kept falling to her lips.

  Those lips that he’d kissed. Those sweet, warm, perfect lips.

  And she’d kissed him back.

  He was still reeling from that, but he tried not to read too much into it. She’d been scared. Her adrenaline was pumping and she’d been relieved to see him, no doubt.

  “Well?” She sat down beside him by the fire. “What do you think?”

  On the way back she’d filled him in on her brief meeting with the cowardly cad. It seemed he was more pathetic and desperate than any of them had realized.

  “If he’s still around then he’s been trying to get his hands on that loot.”

  She nodded. “That’s the way it seemed.” She frowned. “He didn’t say much, just that he wants your help.”

  Caleb couldn’t quite stop the growl that escaped. “He used you to get a message to me.”

  Abigail winced.

  “I will kill him.”

  She bit her lip. “He didn’t hurt me.”

  “This time,” he reminded her. “He didn’t hurt you this time. That doesn’t excuse him for holding you at knifepoint.”

  “No,” she said slowly.

  But he could tell by the tone of her voice that she’d all but forgiven him. Or, at the very least, she was justifying his actions. “Please do not tell me you feel sorry for this man.”

  She winced again, her nose crinkling up in a way that was so adorable it made his teeth ache. So good. So sweet.

  What on earth was she doing here with him? Couldn’t she see that he was a brutal criminal? Sure, he and Marcus liked to tell themselves that everything they did was for justice. But that didn’t make their actions any less violent or their lives any less scandalous.

  In Caleb’s case, at least, the ends justified the means. He’d made his choices, and he was content to live with them.

  Or he had been until this kind, gentle soul had somehow managed to become an integral part of his life. A necessity on par with water and air.

  He ran a hand through his tousled hair and strove for calm.

  This was not a situation where he could afford to be overset by unwanted emotions. Abigail’s safety was at stake, and that of her family.

  “What does he want from me?” Caleb asked.

  She clasped her hands together and leaned in toward him as if he were the source of warmth and not the fire beside her. “He wants your help to get on a ship heading out to sea.”

  He grunted. He could do it. With his contacts and the fear that came with his name and the ship he’d helped to lead, he could get the man out of here.

  “In exchange he’ll give you the information you need. About the pirates, and the smugglers he was working for.”

  He met her gaze evenly. “I suppose he doesn’t want your father to know.”

  She pursed her lips. “He seemed terrified of facing a court martial. But he made it clear he couldn’t keep living on the run. Poor man seemed terrified of the smugglers he owed money to. From the sounds of it, he’s trapped in the middle of two terrifying groups of ne’er-do-wells.”

  He stared at her for so long that a blush rose in her cheeks. “What?”

  “Poor man?” He arched his brows. “Abigail, you are the victim here, not him. You do know that, yes?”

  She sniffed. “I am hardly a victim. He spoke to me, that’s all. And I told him I would do my best to convince you to help him.”

  A foul sensation turned his stomach as he thought of the handsome former officer. “You don’t—er, that is, he hasn’t charmed you, has he?”

  Her lips parted and she burst out in a laugh. “Of course not. I wasn’t even terribly fond of the man when he was father’s right-hand man and striving to win Minerva’s affection. I certainly have no regard for him now that I know what a fiend he is.” His muscles relaxed slightly and she noticed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Caleb?”

  “Yes?”

  “Were you...jealous?” Pink crept into her cheeks but she did not look away.

  He couldn’t answer. Yes. Yes, of course he’d been jealous. He’d be jealous of any man who earned any sort of affection from his angel, even if that sentiment was little more than pity.

  But she was his.

  That surge of possessiveness was irrational, but he couldn’t shake it.

  Yet he couldn’t say as much, either. She deserved so much more than this. Than him.