Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he next morning after attending the Royal Pavilion, Eliza knelt among the vibrant blooms, her dirt-stained fingers gently caressing the delicate petals. The warm sun kissed her cheeks, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Lost in thought, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until a familiar voice called out to her.

"Miss Montrose." Captain Blackwood's deep voice cut through the tranquil garden.

Eliza looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. He stood before her, tall and imposing in his riding attire. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and his piercing green eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Captain Blackwood," Eliza acknowledged, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt from her skirts. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my garden?"

He cleared his throat, his eyes darting briefly to the colorful blooms surrounding them before returning to Eliza's face. "I was wondering if you were still interested in that ride we discussed." He gestured towards the stables. "The horses are ready and waiting."

Eliza's heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending time with Captain Blackwood, though she fought to maintain a composed exterior. His somber demeanor both intrigued and irritated her, yet she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him.

Looking back up at the Captain Blackwood, Eliza allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "A ride sounds lovely, Captain. I would be delighted to join you. I will change and return in a moment."

He nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Excellent."

She made quick work of changing into her dark blue riding habit, and once her bonnet was secure, she rejoined Captain Blackwood outside. The warm smile that twisted his scars in an unnatural way appeared again, sending her insides melting.

He took a step closer to her. "Shall we?" He extended his arm, inviting her to walk alongside him.

Together, they made their way towards the stables, the anticipation of the upcoming ride filling the air between them. Eliza's heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As they entered the stables, the familiar scent of hay and horses enveloped them. The soft whinnies and gentle snorts of the majestic animals created a soothing ambiance, and Eliza felt her excitement grow with each step.

Captain Blackwood led her to two magnificent horses, already saddled and ready for their journey. Eliza couldn't help but admire the sleek coats and powerful muscles of the creatures before her. She had always found solace in the company of horses, their gentle nature and unwavering loyalty a welcome respite from the complexities of human interaction.

"This is Artemis," he said, gesturing to the elegant bay mare. "She's a gentle soul and will take good care of you."

Eliza reached out, gently stroking Artemis's velvety muzzle. The horse nuzzled into her touch, and Eliza felt a wave of contentment wash over her. "She's beautiful. Thank you for arranging this."

Captain Blackwood smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. "It's my pleasure. Shall I assist you in mounting?" He looked around. "Or there is a mounting block available."

Eliza shook her head as a familiar playfulness from childhood returned. "I appreciate the offer, Captain, but I assure you, I am quite capable of mounting on my own."

Captain Blackwood crossed his arms, leaning against the stable post with a bemused smirk. "Is that so? Well, I should hope you do not scandalize the entire countryside with such bold behavior, Miss Montrose. Riding sidesaddle without assistance? I shudder to think of the gossip this might incite."

Eliza's laugh rang out, light and carefree. "Oh, Captain, do try to compose yourself. I wouldn't want to cause you any undue distress."

With a graceful movement, Eliza placed her foot in the stirrup, her movements fluid and confident. With a graceful swing, she hoisted herself up onto Artemis's back. She adjusted her skirts perfectly, and then she took hold of the reins. The familiar sensation of being atop a horse filled her with a sense of freedom and empowerment.

Captain Blackwood's eyebrows shot up, a playful gleam in his eyes. "That is most impressive, Miss Montrose. I do believe you've thoroughly defied societal expectations. The ton would be positively aghast."

"Well, Captain, we are in Brighton, not London. I'm sure the ton will recover. Perhaps I'll even start a new trend—independent mounting for all ladies."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he mounted his own horse, a striking black stallion. He settled into the saddle effortlessly, his posture straight and commanding. Eliza couldn't help but admire the way he moved—there was a natural grace to him, a quiet confidence that spoke of his years on horseback—the epitome of a seasoned rider.

"And what about you, Captain?" Eliza teased, raising an eyebrow as she watched him. "Do you plan to be scandalized by my boldness for the entirety of our ride, or will you be able to manage?"

Captain Blackwood tilted his head, feigning deep consideration. "I suppose I shall endure, though I must admit, I am already preparing myself for the disapproving stares of every matron we pass. I hope you have a speech ready to defend us both."

Eliza laughed again, enjoying the lightness of the moment. "Perhaps I'll claim you forced me into such rebellious acts. After all, it's much easier to blame a dashing captain than to admit I might enjoy flouting the rules myself."

He smirked, nudging his horse forward until they were side by side. "Oh, I see how it is, Miss Montrose. Turning the tables, are we? Well, I dare say I would gladly take the blame if it means you continue to surprise me."

She glanced at him, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words. The banter, though playful, carried a deeper note—an unspoken acknowledgment of the growing camaraderie between them.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

Eliza nodded, her heart fluttering with anticipation. "Lead the way, Captain."

As they urged their horses forward, Eliza felt a rush of exhilaration coursing through her veins. The steady rhythm of the horses' hooves against the ground and the gentle breeze caressing her face created a sense of harmony she had been longing for .

Riding alongside Captain Blackwood, Eliza couldn't help but steal glances at him, wondering what thoughts lay hidden behind his stoic gaze.

As they rode through the lush countryside, the sun casting a golden glow upon the rolling hills, Eliza drank in the scenery, filling her lungs with air. Soon their horses eased into a relaxed trot.

"Tell me, Captain," Eliza said, turning her head slightly to catch his eye. "Do you often find yourself scandalized, or is this a special occasion?"

Captain Blackwood laughed, a rich sound that made Eliza's heart skip. "Oh, I am scandalized daily, Miss Montrose. The world is full of surprises. But I must say, this particular scandal ranks rather high on my list of enjoyable transgressions."

Eliza bit back a smile, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look. "Well then, Captain, I shall endeavor to keep you entertained. Heaven forbid you should be bored on such a fine day."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Boredom is the true enemy, after all. But with you around, Miss Montrose, I find it quite impossible to fall into such a dire state."

They rode for several miles through the countryside, talking about the scenery and Brighton. He pointed out several things about the history of the town, giving details about the people who had lived there when he was a boy. In all of it, Eliza saw the contrast between him and Mr. Everly. Yesterday it had felt like Mr. Everly needed attention at every turn during the tour of the Royal Pavilion. But Captain Blackwood's conversation felt entirely different—as if his only goal was to share interesting things, rather than to be the center of the attention.

As they reached the top of the hill, the landscape unfolded before them in a stunning panorama of rolling fields and the distant glimmer of the sea. The sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and wildflowers.

"This is beautiful," Eliza said, taking in the view. Brighton looked more stunning from this vantage point.

Captain Blackwood slowed his horse, turning to Eliza with a small smile. "I couldn't agree more," he said, never taking his eyes off her.

They rode only a little farther, to where a small brook bubbled cheerfully beside the path. Captain Blackwood pointed to a shaded spot beneath a cluster of trees. "This seems like a perfect spot," he said. "Would you care to rest for a bit? The horses could use a drink, and I've brought along some provisions."

Eliza nodded. "That sounds wonderful. I can't think of a more fitting place for a picnic."

Captain Blackwood dismounted first, landing lightly on his feet with the practiced ease. He moved to Eliza's side, extending his hands in a familiar but gentle gesture. "Allow me, Miss Montrose."

Eliza hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, her heart fluttering at the prospect of being so close to him once again. "That is most kind of you. Thank you, Captain," she said, her voice soft. "I'll try not to scandalize you this time."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. "I'll brace myself for the shock."

He stepped closer, his hands finding her waist with a careful but confident grip. Eliza felt the warmth of his touch through the fabric of her riding habit, the firm hold steadying her as she prepared to dismount. She steadied herself, her gaze drifting to his face, taking in the way his expression softened as he focused on guiding her down.

She placed one foot out of the stirrup and let him guide her down, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring the fleeting but intimate connection.

As she descended, she brushed lightly against him, her hands instinctively resting on his shoulders to steady herself. Captain Blackwood's grip tightened slightly as he helped her dismount, his fingers pressing gently against her waist. She could feel the strength in his arms, the subtle shift of his muscles as he supported her weight. For a brief, breathless moment, her face was inches from his, close enough to catch the faint scent of sandalwood and leather that clung to him.

Eliza's gaze flickered to his throat, noticing the way it bobbed as he swallowed, a visible sign of his own awareness of their closeness. His expression, usually so composed, held a trace of something unguarded—an uncertainty, perhaps, or a quiet longing that mirrored her own.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent as he guided her the last few inches to the ground. When her boots touched the grass, neither of them moved. She was still within the circle of his arms, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. His hands lingered at her waist, holding her close to him. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, their shared breath mingling in the small space between them.

Eliza looked up at him, her heart racing. She noted the faint blush that crept up his neck, the way his eyes softened as they held hers. She wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart, or if he felt the same pull—the same delicate tension between them—that had become so impossible to ignore.

Eliza's breath hitched slightly, her gaze lingering on his lips before she quickly looked away, flustered by the intensity of the moment. "Thank you," she said again, her voice a touch more breathless than before. The simple act of helping her dismount had felt like so much more, a small but significant shift in the rhythm of their growing connection.

Captain Blackwood released her, his hands reluctantly dropping to his sides. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he took a small step back. "Of course," he replied, his tone still warm but edged with a faint trace of nervousness. He glanced away briefly, as if gathering himself, then looked back with a soft, sincere smile. "Of course, Miss Montrose. Truly."

Eliza adjusted her skirts, her fingers lingering at the fabric as she tried to steady the fluttering sensation in her chest. The way he had looked at her, the way his hands had felt at her waist—it was all so unexpected and yet so welcome. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like if there were no barriers between them, if they could simply be as they were in that moment: honest, open, and unafraid of the closeness that seemed to grow each time they were together.

Captain Blackwood moved to retrieve the picnic basket from his saddle, his movements quick and precise, as if he needed the task to ground himself. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to a shaded spot beneath a large oak tree. The grass there was lush and inviting, a perfect place to rest and enjoy the view.

Eliza nodded, following him to the spot he had chosen. As he spread out the blanket, she couldn't help but steal another glance at him, noticing the way the sunlight highlighted the strong lines of his profile, the way his expression had softened since their earlier playful banter.

They settled onto the blanket, the atmosphere between them light but tinged with the undercurrent of their unspoken connection. As they unpacked the food, their fingers brushed occasionally, each small touch sending a spark of awareness through Eliza. She couldn't help but feel that every moment spent with Captain Blackwood was drawing them closer, like the gradual turning of a tide.

Eliza took a deep breath, letting the serene beauty of the hilltop wash over her. She looked over at Captain Blackwood, who was pouring them each a glass of lemonade. As he handed her the cup, their fingers touched briefly, and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

"Here's to a day well spent," he said, raising his glass in a quiet toast.

Eliza met his gaze, her own smile reflecting the quiet joy she felt in his company. "And to many more like it," she added, clinking her glass gently against his.

As they sat together on the blanket beneath the sprawling oak tree, the sun's rays filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the surrounding ground. Captain Blackwood reached forward to set the food before them, and winced. He rolled his shoulder back.

"Are you all right, Captain?" she asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she set down her cup.

Captain Blackwood gave her a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's just my shoulder," he admitted, rubbing the sore spot with his hand. "It has a tendency to remind me of its presence, especially when I've been active."

Eliza's gaze softened, her eyes lingering on his movements. "Would it be too forward of me to ask what happened?"

"I shouldn't wish to tell you of such things."

"Would the ton disapprove?" she asked, her tone light. "Or is it that I have overstepped?"

"The ton would most certainly disapprove of such conversations, especially in front of a gently bred woman."

She shifted on the blanket. "I suppose it is a good thing that no one from the ton is privy to our conversation.

He nodded, stretching his arm gently before resting it back at his side. "Very well, Miss Montrose. I will tell you, but I will spare you the most graphic of details. I was struck with a bayonet during a skirmish."

Shock overwhelmed Eliza. "A bayonet?"

He nodded. "It healed, mostly, but not without leaving a mark."

Eliza watched him carefully, her heart aching at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke, her voice gentle but curious. "And the scar on your jaw … was that also from a bayonet?"

Captain Blackwood shook his head, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the scar on his jaw with precision. "No, the scars on my face are from an explosion. Shrapnel tore through my skin during a particularly brutal battle. It was ... unexpected. One moment, I was giving orders, and the next, there was chaos. I was fortunate to survive, but I didn't walk away unscathed. Many under my command were not so lucky." His gaze wandered to the horizon, his eyes unblinking for a long moment.

Eliza reached out, her fingers grazing his arm lightly. "I'm sorry, Captain. I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you."

Captain Blackwood blinked and focused back on her, meeting her gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes clear as he allowed himself to share more than he usually would. "The injuries were painful, yes," he said slowly, as if weighing each word. "But, strangely enough, that's not what I remember most about those moments."

Eliza tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with empathy. "What do you remember most? What was the most painful part?"

He looked away for a moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon as if searching for the right words. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost reflective. "The most painful part wasn't the wounds themselves," he confessed. "It was the realization that, in battle, I had inflicted similar wounds to others. That I had caused the same kind of suffering. It is a hard reality to face."

Eliza's breath caught at his admission, the raw honesty in his words piercing through the serene atmosphere of their picnic. She hadn't expected him to open up so deeply, to reveal the inner turmoil that lay beneath his stoic exterior. Her heart ached for him, for the weight he carried not just in his body but in his soul.

"That must be incredibly hard to live with," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "Knowing that you had to do things that you wish you hadn't."

He nodded, his expression pained but resolute. "War isn't just about surviving the battles. It's about surviving the memories, the knowledge of what you've done and seen. Those are the wounds that take the longest to heal—I still don't feel as if they are healed."

Eliza squeezed his arm gently, her touch a quiet reassurance. "You did what you had to do, Captain. You were protecting your men, your country. It doesn't make it any easier, but it does matter."

Captain Blackwood looked at her, his gaze searching her face as if seeking solace in her understanding. "I try to tell myself that," he admitted. "But it's not always enough."

Eliza nodded, her hand still resting on his arm. "I understand," she said softly. "But I hope you know that the person you are now, the man who helps his neighbors and tends to his garden, is worthy of peace. You deserve to find it, just as much as anyone else. You may feel broken, but you do not have to stay that way."

Her words hung in the air, gentle but firm.

Captain Blackwood's shoulders dropped and relaxed, as if a slight burden had been lifted. He smiled, and some of the tension seemed to disappear from his face .

"Thank you, Miss Montrose," he said, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. "You have a way of making even the heaviest burdens feel a little less daunting."

Eliza smiled back at him, her heart swelling with a mix of tenderness and admiration. "I'm glad," she said, her heart speeding up.

"Now tell me something about you, Miss Montrose—a happy memory."

She glanced at the horses. "I once had a very stubborn mare who ate all the sugar cubes I had taken from the kitchen. When she realized I had no more sugar cubes, she refused to move from the stables."

"I suppose you learned your lesson about giving away all the sugar cubes."

"I know now that I mustn't keep them all in my hand at the same time." She shook her head, still smiling at the memory. "Your horses would never behave so badly."

He leaned back on one hand, his gaze shifting between her and his horses. "I wouldn't be too sure. But we should not wish to test it out here, or we might never get them to leave."