Page 59 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
But... “The sun’s going to set in a few hours.” He knew what had to be done, yet he didn’t relish presenting the option to her. “I don’t want us wandering around in the dark. The best thing to do is make camp and try again in the morning.”
He was reasonably certain that, on his own, he could locate a town or dwelling in the depths of night, but she would not fare as well, and God knew who or what they might encounter. These were lean times, and vagrants and brigands were always a possibility. Making a camp would ensure they had the warmth of a fire and the security of a fixed location.
“Make camp.”She looked at him, her face blank. “As in, sleep outside?”
“Aye.” He waited for her to try to convince him that they could find a village before nightfall. Surely gently reared ladies did not make a habit of spending the night in the out-of-doors. “Afraid there’s no help for it.”
“I see.” Her gaze swept over the field in which they stood. Try as he might, he could not read her expression. “You have experience with it.”
“Considerable experience.” He’d usually had a tent, but many times he’d had to sleep outside. And, especially as the war had worn on, he had often assisted his men in preparing the site.
She was quiet briefly. He waited for a long and deserved explanation as to why a countess did not and would not sleep outside.
“I’ve every faith in your abilities,” she finally said. “Where should we make our encampment?”
He only allowed himself a moment’s astonishment. But then, it shouldn’t be a shock that she readily adapted to adverse circumstances. God knew she’d done it enough on this journey—and in her life.
“Better to get out of the open elements.” He squinted toward the horizon, where he espied a stand of trees that they could reach within a quarter of an hour. “We’ll head for that copse, and once we’re there, I can gather branches to make a rudimentary shelter. I can build us a fire, as well. Won’t be able to hunt, but I’m a fair hand at foraging, so our bellies won’t be entirely empty tonight. What?” he asked when he saw her smile.
“There’s something very alluring about competency,” she murmured.
He snorted. “May change your tune when it’s two o’clock in the morning, we have no blankets, and you’re fantasizing about cottage pie.” After another survey of the landscape, he hefted his pack. “Ready to move out?”
“Where you lead, I follow.”
An hour later, he could reasonably claim that he’d created a decent, safe campsite. He’d been able to locate a small hollow that sheltered them from the wind, and there were enough raw materials from felled branches to construct a lean-to for additional shelter.
Fortunately, late summer meant that they had an abundance of food available for foraging.
“I’ve done a little foraging,” she said, “as a girl, when we’d spend the summer at our estate in Kent. We’d pick elderflowers for cordial, but I could never wait to take the blackberries back home for Cook to make into a fool. I’d pop them into my mouth, and when Cook asked if we’d found any, I’d say no, but my lips and fingers were purple.”
“Impatient lass,” he said with a chuckle.
She smiled mischievously. “Always greedy for sensation.”
He stepped closer to her, and something warm and thrilling swept through him when she immediately closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his neck. As though it was natural and perfectly accepted that they would stand as close together as possible.
“I’ve the scratches on my back to prove it,” he rumbled, enfolding her in his own arms, his hands pressed into the dip just above her arse.
“Poor laddie,” she said without any contrition. “We’ll forage for evening primrose to put on your injuries, sustained in honorable combat. Although,” she added,her eyelids dropping seductively, “I liked that it was quite, quitedishonorable.”
He groaned when she dragged her teeth across his lower lip. “Lass, I’d like nothing more than to lie you down in the bracken and tup you like a fiend. But the sun’s going down, and we haven’t much time to find our supper.”
She made a noise of protest but released him and took a step back. “I’m not happy about missing out on a fiendish tupping, but my stomach will thank you later.”
Their supper had consisted of blackberries, chickweed, mallow, and wild spinach. There was also a creek that supplied cool, fresh water. True, after a long day, he would have preferred roast mutton and potatoes with a tankard of ale, but compared to the conditions he’d faced on the Peninsula, it had been a rare feast.
“I was prepared to be heroically stoic,” Beatrice said with self-deprecating humor from her place on a log across the fire. Full night had fallen, so the fire cast her face in golden light. Her shawl was around her shoulders, and she held her hands up to absorb the flames’ heat. “But I see now that such performative forbearance was unnecessary. You’ve made us very comfortable, Major.”
Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he only nodded. He enjoyed her praise, but he wouldn’t permit himself any smugness. A soldier did his job and didn’t expectapplause. “This time of year, first light is just after six in the morning, so we can set out early. Should find habitation within an hour or two—and a decent breakfast.”
“I’ve no complaints about the food you provided for us. Though,” she added, her eyes sparkling, “I wouldn’t spurn a toasted muffin and a bracing cup of tea.”
“I’ll get them for you,” he said at once. Though she’d demonstrated many times that she was capable of taking care of herself, the urge to provide for her drummed through him.
She tilted her head, considering him. Thoughtfully, she said, “You will, won’t you? When you say you’ll accomplish a task, you do it. No dithering, no prevarication or hesitancy. You make things happen.”
“Uncertainty is costly.” He hesitated. It was easy to be candid with his friends and reveal things about himself that he couldn’t entrust to others. Yet people outside of the Union of the Rakes... they were different. Hell, he’d barely given Susannah a glimpse behind the polished soldier. Perhaps that had been a sign that they were not a good match—he hadn’t trusted her enough, and maybe that had kept her at a distance.
