Chapter 10

He’d carried her the entire way. Beatrice leaned back against the stack of canvas bags and feed bags he had collected to build her a bed, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders as she watched Dr. Collins— Oscar— move about the wagon. The faint light from the lantern cast shadows across his face, accentuating the tension in his jaw. He was a braw lad, no denying that. A woman would want to watch him forever, given the opportunity.

She shivered, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders.

He went to work, just tearing a bag he’d found into strips. She just stayed quiet as he pulled off her boot the remainder of the way and wrapped it expertly in the strips. His fingers were hot on her skin. Beatrice did not know what to think about this man in front of her. She just did not.

“There,” he said once she was settled, his voice quieter now. “Better?”

She nodded, though the ache in her ankle remained a reminder of her predicament. “Thank you.”

Oscar settled himself in the far corner of the wagon, leaning back with one leg propped up and the other resting on the floor. He was quiet for a long while. The man set her nerves on edge.

Beatrice stared up at the wooden rafters, her thoughts a tangled mess. The events of the day—and the night before—played over in her mind, each memory sharper than the last. She could still feel the weight of Henry Duvall’s hand on her arm.

And she could still see the look on Oscar’s face when he had found her—a mix of anger and something else she could not quite name. There had been something happening between those gentlemen, besides just some sort of argument about her.

Elspeth had said that the two men had tangled before.

“You’re still angry,” she said suddenly as it started to make sense. He knew Dr. Duvall, and the two men did not like one another. She had noticed that at breakfast. She was not so certain Dr. Coleson liked Dr. Duvall much either.

Oscar’s gaze flicked to her, his brow furrowing. “About what?”

“Last night,” she said, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blue quilt. “You’ve barely spoken to me since then. I thought?—”

“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with Duvall. And worried, to be honest. He is never a happy man when thwarted. And Coleson made it clear that Duvall would not be hired by us to work at our hospital. He was actually wanting that. Until he saw I was involved. He will look to cause trouble.”

Her chest tightened at the mention of that man’s name. She did not know why exactly, but Dr. Duvall truly scared her. There was something broken in him she could not explain. Like there had been in William MacLeroy in Braeford a year before the explosion had killed him. Something broken—that had made him try to hurt Mora like he had. She did not know the entire story, Mora refused to share the details and no one had ever pushed her, but he had tried to hurt her. Her brother Tom had stopped him and thrashed William almost to death that day. That had been all anyone had ever learned. Dr. Duvall had that same look of almost evil in his eyes—that was what it was.

“I can handle men like him,” she said, though even she did not fully believe it.

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t have to. Stay away from him.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice turned her gaze back to the rafters, her throat tightening as his words sank in.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked. She just wanted to know.

Oscar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her. “Because you deserve better. You are far too good to be even looked at by a man like Henry Duvall. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of him for you, if he becomes too much of a problem. Him, and that Barratt who can’t seem to look away from you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine. Even with men like them.” She always had before. But this felt different.

“You don’t have to anymore. Not alone. I’ll be the one taking care of you after tonight. You have my word on that.”

“I do not ken why you think it is your right.”

“You’ll learn. And it is my right. After tonight. It is just the way the world works for women like you, men like me. I’m an honorable man—I’ll see everything is right for you tomorrow.”

His hand cupped her cheek. Scorching her. He burned as hot as any fire she had ever felt. Beatrice shivered—she would not mind him putting that hand other places.

That thought shocked her to her soul. She had never had such a thought about a man before. “I do not ken what you are talking about.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out eventually, I’m sure.”

Well, how was she supposed to respond to that?

She moved a bit, then winced. Her ankle hurt. No sense in denying it, even to herself. Oscar moved, right close to her. He had another blanket in his hands; before she could say a word, he spread it over her, tucking it tight around her shoulders.

“You’re cold,” he said.

“I’m fine.” Beatrice just blinked when he settled right there in the wagon next to her. So close…and then he was sitting right beside her. His arm was behind her back, before she even realized what he was doing. And his warmth…

She just wanted to press right up against him. What was happening to her senses? Had she lost them? Never had she had a man this close to her before—and she should be pushing him away. But that was the last thing Beatrice wanted to do now.

“Stubborn little lassie. You don’t have to be fine all the time. No one expects you to.” His hand was there, guiding her head to his shoulder. “I’ll keep you warm, little bird. Sleep, rest. I’ll be here to protect you. You can trust me forever, Beatrice. I mean that.”

Beatrice just stayed where she was, a man holding her through the night for the first time in her life.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something close to safe.

Oscar sat beside her, and just held her. She felt right, pressed up against him like she was. He shifted, wanting to shelter her even more. Hell, why lie to himself? He just wanted to get his hands on her. He had never been a fully patient man, and now that he knew she was going to be his, he wanted her. However he could have her. As fast as he could make it happen.

And not just pressed up against him in a damned cold barn, her in pain, and scared of the night.

Beatrice shifted slightly, her head dipping against his shoulder. Oscar glanced down at her, his heart tightening at the sight. This woman did something to him, changed him somehow. Just by being next to him.

She looked up at him, her big eyes wide and searching, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Her lips were so close, the faintest tremble in them drawing his gaze like a magnet.

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.

But he couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. She was so damned soft. Her breath hitched, and her eyes fluttered shut—just for a moment.

“Beatrice,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with an intensity that made his chest ache.

“You confuse me, Dr. Oscar Collins. I do not ken what I think about you.”

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her forever.

He just had to figure out how to make that happen.

Then he just decided to take the risk. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulled the woman he wanted closer, and pressed his lips to hers.

When her mouth opened in surprise, Oscar deepened the kiss.

And tasted her for the very first time.