Chapter 9

Oscar adjusted his grip on Beatrice every time she squirmed. The road stretched ahead, rutted and uneven, but the barn was now in sight. Her arms looped loosely around his neck, yet her body was tense. She was trembling against him—from the chill of the night. Or from being pressed against his chest.

He would not lie to himself—he liked holding her. However he could. He just wished she wasn’t in pain while he did it. He would get her to the barn, tend her ankle, and do what he could to make her comfortable tonight.

Tonight would rather precipitate things on his plans. He needed to reevaluate.

“You are not carrying me right,” she said. Again. Beatrice had definite opinions on everything he did, apparently. It almost negated how much he liked holding her, honestly. This woman was trouble. In every way.

If he had his way from here on out, whenever she would turn quarrelsome with him, he would just kiss the quarrel right out of her. It was a rather nice plan. “There’s only one way to carry someone with a sprained ankle. You’d rather I throw you over my shoulder, darling?”

“I would rather you let me walk. I am not your darling, Dr. Collins.”

“You can’t walk, and I feel great sympathy for the future man who is allowed to call you darling .” And whether he liked it or not, he would most likely meet that man someday—even if that man was not him. If she and Elspeth remained friends, and he and Iagan continued to work together—Oscar would see Beatrice often. Would watch her fall in love, marry. Have children. Would another man appreciate her for all her different ways? Or would he find them too trying?

What kind of man would make Miss Beatrice Ardis happy? Could Oscar do it?

“I can walk.”

“Not with that ankle,” he told her. Again. He shifted her slightly to keep her from slipping. She felt as fragile as glass in his hold. A man would have to be careful with this one. “You’re stubborn enough to try and make it, but we both know how that ends—with you in the dirt.”

She twisted her head to glare at him, her hair brushing his cheek. “I am not a child, Dr. Collins.”

“My name is Oscar. Use it. And no, you’re not a child, but you are injured, you cannot walk, and I am strong enough to carry you. Wherever you need carried.” It would take a strong man to deal with this woman for life. Strong in every way—physically, temperamentally, verbally, intellectually. What kind of man would she find like that around here? Probably not many, unless Iagan provided that man himself.

Which…hadn’t he done so already, with the very man carrying Beatrice now?

Oscar wasn’t a fool—Iagan had enjoyed the discussion this morning when Elspeth had been plotting to throw Oscar and Beatrice in a carriage for six hours together today. But Oscar had been willing and intrigued—and a bit provoked by Beatrice ignoring him at breakfast. Maybe he had been a bit foolish?

But then again, the other option was that damned Ace Barratt accompanying her. The mere idea of Barratt carrying Beatrice through the night just riled him completely. Beatrice had obviously missed the indications, but Barratt would not have minded being alone with Beatrice at all. It had her friend Isobel quite out of sorts, but Beatrice had not even seemed to notice.

Barratt was a bit perturbed at that. Oscar had gotten a laugh at his friend’s expense.

“Dr. Collins is more proper.”

“Proper? Seriously?” Had she missed that they were pressed together almost as close as lovers as he carried her off to spend the entire night together in a damned barn? There was a highly likelihood they were going to find themselves engaged by this time tomorrow night.

Apparently, this woman did not quite realize that fact yet.

He just held her close as he thought about that. About spending the rest of his life dealing with this far too maddening, far too young, woman. Then he thought about what that would bring with it on the positive side. She was beautiful, intelligent, well-spoken, spirited, challenging, and intriguing. He would enjoy taming her in the bedroom, undoubtedly. Teaching her everything there was between a man and his wife.

Beatrice would be his.

He most certainly would not be bored, would he?

He could keep her the way she deserved to be kept. He could protect her, too. And then…hold her all night, every night. Doing the things he?—

His body tightened, just at the possibilities.

“Aye,” she said, her chin lifting. “We’ve known each other three days, Dr. Collins . I hardly think ‘Oscar’ is appropriate.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Three days of you arguing with me every time we’ve been alone. I think we’re well past formalities.”

“I did not argue with you.”

“You’re doing it right now!”

Beatrice huffed in far-too-adorable indignation, then turned her head away.

“You’re quite impossible,” he said as they reached the barn door.

“Then put me down. It feels odd, you carrying me this way.”

“No.” It didn’t feel odd—it felt right. Like he was carrying her off to be kept—by him. Hell, he wanted to keep her. He’d start with those buttons running along the side of her dress, and then he’d show her exactly what a man like him would want from a woman like her. They had plenty of blankets, he could keep her warm, wrap himself all around her. Hold her all night long.

Too bad he was a damned honorable man. But there were going to be consequences from tonight. She might not be aware of them—and she definitely didn’t seem to be—but Oscar was.

He was most likely going to be dealing with this woman forever. Maybe it was best he got started now ?

With a shove of his shoulder, the barn door creaked open. The scent of fresh hay mingled with the faint metallic tang of oil. And newness. This was a new barn—not a single animal in sight.

She clutched the kerosene lamp like it was her only hope. “I do not like the dark. Or barns. Will we be safe in here?”

“Safe enough for the night. I think this barn probably belongs to the new place being built up the road. About half a mile back. And no—I am not carrying you half a mile. Turn the lamp that way.”

She did. Oscar almost crowed in triumph when he saw the silhouette of a wagon in the corner. It would make a fine bed for the night. At least for her.

He carried her over there and deposited her on the side. Then took the lamp and climbed up. He wanted to make absolutely certain the spot was safe for her first.

He was going to take care of her. It was his right, now. He pulled himself into the wagon and took stock of the supplies he’d found. Three thick canvas blankets, right there. He could keep her warm enough. And with the cookies and bread they had been sent home with from the doctor they’d visited, he could feed her, too. Yes, he would do a fine job caring for her tonight.

And he would keep his hands to himself. As best he could—he did know himself rather well, after all.

“You did not have to be so rough,” she said.

“Rough?” He crouched beside her, pulling one of the blankets free and wrapping it around her narrow shoulders. “If I were rough, you’d still be on the road, dragging that ankle like it’s not twice its size.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s not going to be.” As if she meant to make it that way through force of will alone.

Maybe that was how the woman had made it this far—through sheer grit and stubbornness?

Well, it was high time she realized she did not have to do things alone any longer. Oscar was going to be there to take care of her now. It had him feeling surprising tenderness for his little bird. No denying that.

“Your ankle looks like it’s the size of a cantaloupe,” he said, pulling some canvas bags he found into small pile to elevate her foot. “So yes, it’s that bad. I’m the doctor here, not you. That means, little bird, that I am the one in charge tonight. And I am the one who got you here, so you have to do as I say, however you see it.”

“I’d have managed to get myself here.” She put the lamp on the wagon seat and adjusted the flame. “Do we have enough kerosene to burn all night?”

“Not without falling on your face.” Oscar grabbed a blanket and put it behind her on the straw taking up most of the bed of the wagon. He covered her with a third. She was shivering. Helpless but too damned stubborn to admit it. And that made him want to protect her all the more. “Now, sit still and let me take care of it. Let me take care of you. We’ll have to dim the lamp, darling. Just to be on the safe side, so we don’t run out by morning. But don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you.”

It made him feel right, important, to even say it. He was going to take care of her. Because that was a right he was taking for himself. But first, he needed to put space between them. Quickly.

He was too close. Every movement, every moment of contact, wound him tighter. He knew exactly what it was—attraction, raw and undeniable. The worst part was, he didn’t even want to fight it. Oscar was ready to fall right off that cliff.

How fast a man’s world could change.

He blamed Iagan Coleson for this. The man knew him well, after all. And had played him completely.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice cutting through his thoughts.

His hands stilled, his gaze lifting to meet hers. She wasn’t glaring anymore. Her gray eyes held something else entirely; he didn’t think it was just the shadows of the lamp. Something that made his chest ache in ways he didn’t want to name.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Don’t call me Dr. Collins when we’re alone, Beatrice. There is nothing formal between us, now. There won’t be ever again.”

He didn’t want there to be—and before the night was over, he was going to kiss her, taste her. That was all he would let himself have. He deserved it for what he was going to endure tonight.

To be alone with her and not have her—torture. Something no man deserved. He wanted her, almost more than he wanted to breathe. And she was right there in front of him, and he had to be a gentleman.

Now he saw why Iagan had damned near gone mad when they had been trapped on that damned ship, with Elspeth held captive in the man’s cabin for so long. It was a wonder the man had any brains left in his head.

“Oscar,” she said, testing the name like it was unfamiliar.

It sounded like a victory. And maybe something more.