24. Chapter 24

Nemity buried her face in Callum's shoulder, gasping for breath, the heat pouring off of his skin making her wish she could strip down and set the full of her body against his.

Still holding her against the tree, he'd wrapped his arms around her, saving her back from digging into the bark. He was having just as much trouble as her in finding his breath.

This was how it was with them. Sudden explosions that wrecked them both fully and muddled her mind. Set her emotions raw and jagged. Left her completely vulnerable.

Made her want more than just these scattered, stolen moments with him.

But that wasn't the deal.

He'd made that clear. She'd made that clear.

Even if he sounded like he was quite possibly softening on his stance. Yet he didn't promise her anything, so she couldn't allow herself to want anything.

His head shifted above her as he set his lips onto the top of her head. "How did you end up here? I looked and looked and looked and couldn't find a trace of you and Georgette and Jacob."

She drew in a deep breath, locking the scent of his skin into her nose since she knew it would be stolen away from her in the next minutes.

She shifted, pulling back to look up at him. "We spent that first night in an abandoned barn near to where Thomas dumped us on the side of the road."

"Fuck." His lip curled, his look going up to the sky. "Damn Thomas."

"Yes…well…I agree."

"I saw that spot, saw the hay inside and thought it could have been you, but I wasn't sure. Georgette and Jacob, how did they fare?" He extracted her from his body and set her feet onto the ground, his hands gripping her arms in case her balance was off. It was. Legs full of jelly were the curse of a rabid coupling against a tree.

He smoothed down her skirts as she leaned against the tree for support, then left her to pick up his shirt, waistcoat and coat and started dragging them onto his frame. Her stare locked on him—he was a beautiful man to watch move, even doing the most mundane things. How had she ever, for even one second, considered him death?

Her fingers clutched onto the edges of her skirts as she shook out the wrinkles, even though her dress was now wrinkled beyond saving after the last two days. "Georgette and Jacob were fine once they realized they weren't getting any food—they complained plenty before that. I tried to make it an adventure for them—telling them we were knights of old on a quest across the land."

His head popped out the top of his lawn shirt and he looked at her. "That was smart."

She shrugged. "It was helpful, for I knew I couldn't get very far walking with them—it kept them motivated to keep trudging along."

The sudden thought of that first night alone with them hit her hard and her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes studying her face, Callum moved back toward her, concern etched in his brow. "What? What happened?"

She had to catch her breath, swallowing a lump down her throat. She waved her right hand in the air. "It was nothing—nothing."

His look set hard on her. "It's something for the fear I just saw flash in your eyes."

"It was just…" She looked down, staring at the tips of his dark boots. "That first night, I was scared. Scared like I'd never been in my life. Scared not for me, but for them. For Georgette and Jacob. I was terrified that something would happen to them and I couldn't stand the thought. And it felt like I was failing them—truly failing them and I hadn't even had them for more than a week. Failing them, failing Susannah and how she trusted me with them. I shouldn't have argued with Thomas. I should have groveled so that he didn't kick us out of the carriage—didn't leave us. Anything."

"That wasn't your fault, Nemity." The fury firing in his eyes told her that Callum was already dreaming up ways to make Thomas pay for what he'd done.

"It wasn't not my fault—I pushed him." She shook her head. "I always push him. And that night when the children fell asleep next to me on the hay, clutching onto me, I'd just never been gutted like that—so hopeless. I didn't have any money, any food—nothing."

She drew a shaky breath. It did nothing to stop the quiver in her limbs.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him. Just the small touch and the quiver flooding her veins abated.

"What did you do?" he asked.

She scoffed a laugh. "I cried myself to sleep, and when I woke up I was on a mission to get us to the closest village, no matter how long it took. We made it to the road, then walked along beside it deep into the tree line so I could judge whoever was on the road before approaching him. Mable was the third person we saw that day."

"You convinced her to stop?"

"I did. She was plenty suspicious though. It was her alone in her wagon and she had one hand on her rifle. For the first five minutes, I thought I'd made a terrible mistake."

He loosened his hold and looked down at her. "Yet you managed to convince her to help you?"

She nodded. "It took a roundabout way—I kept naming people I knew in the area, or who had come from this area, trying to convince her I was who I said I was and I could pay her for help. I'm sure she thought I was mad, babbling name after name as I did. But then I finally threw out the name of my governess when I was eight—it was what I needed. Mable is a second cousin of my old governess. Mable and I both attended her wedding, though I'd only been nine at the time and don't recall meeting Mable."

A crooked smile came to his lips. "You weren't wrong when you said luck does tend to find you."

She gave an embarrassed grin and shrugged. "Charmed, I guess. Undeservedly so, sometimes. I just knew—hoped—that if I blurted out enough names, we would eventually find a connection. Her husband, Lenard, is currently in Edinburgh, and he should be back within two days. Then she was going to have him bring me home."

He grinned, shaking his head as he stepped back to put his waistcoat on. "Bloody well lucky, you are."

Her lips pulled wide in a sheepish smile. "It helps that Georgette and Jacob are so wicked adorable with their big eyes. Mable is keen on them. And I've tried to help out where I could, so we aren't a burden on her. Georgette has taken a liking to gathering the eggs from the chickens."

"And I saw you hanging sheets to dry as I came in from the lane."

She chuckled. "You saw the mess I was making of them?"

He grinned. "I did."

"I was trying to learn. I washed them as well—I think. Mable did do some scrubbing of them after me. But I did do it. One never knows when one must trade laundry for food—or so Mable has told me."

He laughed, shoving his arms into his coat. He pointed at the hill they'd come down. "Let us see if I can throw a pouch of coins at her to borrow her wagon so I can get us back to Springfell."

She nodded and he wrapped a hand around her lower back as they walked up the hill toward the cottage.

Her steps slowed as she glanced up at him. She still had some questions she wanted answered outside of Mable's hearing. "Callum, before we get up there, I need you to tell me this, and don't shove it off under some ‘code' that you live by in order not to answer."

His lips pulled to the side in a quirk and then he looked down at her. She wasn't sure if that meant he was getting ready to lie to her or if he was loathing the fact that he'd told her anything of his past in the first place. "Yes?"

"If you don't work for Thomas anymore, then it seems as though you should be able to tell me what he hired you to do for him—before he sent you to look after me."

He half nodded, noncommittal. "By that logic, yes. Except for the fact that guardians never talk about clients."

"No." Her feet stopped, forcing him to halt beside her. "If you want me to trust you, Callum, then you have to trust me."

He stared down at her for a long breath, waiting for her to break.

She held her own silence and he finally puffed out an exasperated breath.

"Fine, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know about Charley."

He winced. "What do you want to know?"

"I just want to get it straight in my mind. So you are not a friend of Charley's?"

"No—yes."

Her head cocked to the side. "Thomas had you befriend him for some reason—why?"

He looked around, possibly hoping for some sort of intervention that would allow him to escape from this. None came and he looked down to her, his voice dipping, serious. "He thinks Charley is out to kill him."

"What?" Her head shook, her eyes going wide. "Kill him, why?"

"There was a string of accidents at Ravenstone where Thomas could have easily been killed. One or two accidents is unfortunate. Three in a short amount of time points to foul play. We assume Charley wants the title, the land, the money."

"That is insanity." Her voice pitched up. "Charley doesn't want any of that. Charley loves his life of debauchery. His life of irresponsibility. The title would shackle him to everything he loathes."

His right eyebrow lifted. "You think? For Charley spent six years thinking he was inheriting it all."

Her head flew back and forth. "No. You're wrong. Charley wouldn't hurt anyone. I know that in my bones. Thomas is wrong. Wrong to ever think that of his brother."

"Is he?"

"Yes." She couldn't keep the growl out of her voice. "Even with all the time you've spent with him, you clearly don't know Charley—he couldn't hurt a fly. And you know full well what Thomas just did to me."

"I appreciate your loyalty to Charley, Nemity. I do. But in this case, your loyalty may be clouding your view of him."

"I am loyal because he has always been there for me. My biggest supporter. My most loyal friend."

"Yet the fact remains that the accidents happened, and they were too suspicious." He lifted his shoulders. "It has been what I've been trying to sort for months now, until I was diverted to protect you and investigate who would have kidnapped you."

Her lips pursed, her look running over his face. "Thomas has turned you into his docile lapdog, hasn't he?"

His top lip lifted for a moment, the barb striking a nerve, but he held onto his composure. "Can we pause this discussion until I get you and the children home to Springfell?"

Her hand flew up at her side. "It's an argument, not a discussion, and I don't see why we need to pause it when you just need to see what is obvious in front of you."

Both of his eyebrows lifted high. "That you think Charley can do no wrong? I see that just fine. While I, myself, have witnessed plenty of suspect moments in my last eight months with him."

Her arms folded over her chest. "Then you are mistaking those moments. Charley is good."

His face went solemn, his head shaking. "I don't know if that is true or not."

Her stare pinned him. "Then I don't know if you are good or not."

He blew out a big sigh. "Please, Nem. Please, can we just get back to Springfell today? I swear we can argue this out to your heart's content when we are back at the manor in privacy."

"Fine." She motioned toward the hill and they started walking an arm's width apart.

Just over the crest of the hill, she saw Mable had continued on with hanging the laundry, her rifle propped onto the base of the tree the line was tied around.

Mable set the skirt that was in her hands back down into the basket and picked up her rifle, walking over to them once she noticed them coming over the hill.

Her stare ate into Callum, then she looked to Nemity. "You two work out whatever needed to be worked out?"

Nemity glanced up at Callum.

They had worked out some things and hadn't worked out others, so she wasn't sure how to respond to Mable.

Instead, she pointed at the laundry now hanging on the line. "You didn't interrupt us. You went back to the laundry when you should have let me finish it."

Mable chuckled. "Oh, I did come to interrupt, but once I crested the hill, I thought the better of it."

Nemity coughed out a strained laugh. "You watched?"

Mable shrugged. "Not for long. A minute or two." Her gaze shifted to Callum, looking him up and down. By the unabashed look on her face, she approved of Callum's performance.

"Mable." Nemity squealed her name, laughing.

Mable looked to her. "What? Lenard won't be home for another day or so. It'll get me through." She winked at Nemity.

Callum laughed, a low chuckle that vibrated across the land.

Mable waved her hand to them. "Come, I imagine the wee ones will be waking from their naps soon and I already hitched up the wagon for you. We'll get you on your way."

"You did?"

"Of course I did, dear. A lady like you doesn't have to wait long for someone to come and collect her, no matter what you think to the contrary."

Mable started walking toward the cottage.

She and Callum followed, Mable's generosity of spirit hitting her hard, sending a lump into her throat.

Mable had taken her in, fed her, gave her and the children somewhere to sleep, all without any expectation.

She'd be sending an even bigger sack of coins back with the wagon when it was returned, and it still wouldn't be enough to repay Mable for her kindness.