Page 5 of If You Remember When (Finley Creek: Vintage Romantic Suspense)

Oscar stood by the fire in the sitting room, staring out at the darkened grounds beyond the glass. No storms tonight; everything was cool and dry and he could see every damned star in the sky. The little bird hadn’t come out of the library yet. She had been in there for hours. He had been thinking about every word between them since.

Never be the laddie for her? The mere idea that she’d said it, right to his face…his mouth quirked at the absurdity. He was sought after by the best of Texas society, yet a little orphaned girl from Scotland turned her tiny nose up at him? He could not fathom it.

What kind of man would catch a creature like Beatrice Ardis?

He couldn’t forget those big gray eyes looking at him like he was a monster. Like he had hurt her somehow. It hadn’t been well done of him. He admitted that to himself readily enough.

He had owed her better than that. He certainly hadn’t been a gentleman with her. No. He had been baiting her. Just to see how she would respond. Because she had intrigued him. No denying that.

It unsettled him. She unsettled him.

Oscar wasn’t a man easily thrown off course. His life had been shaped by discipline, logic, strategy, and the certainty that he understood the world better than most. And yet here he was, unnerved by a slip of a girl who spoke to him as if she had found him seriously lacking. In something that was intrinsically him. Or like he was nothing but a dimwitted, but arrogant child annoying her.

Like he could not ever be enough for her. Fluff and arrogance—instead of the well-respected scholar and physician that he was fast becoming. Like she was too good for him?

Or was it that he was not quite good enough…for her?

He descended the veranda steps, his boots crunching against the gravel path as he walked without a clear destination. It was probably a good idea for him to just avoid that girl, as much as he possibly could. Before he ended up making even more of an ass of himself, and risked damaging one of the very few relationships in this world he valued.

It was why he had forced himself to let go of that little obsession he’d had with Elspeth when they had first met that redheaded love of Iagan’s now. Iagan was his closest friend in the world. He would hate to lose that over a woman. And there would be nothing permanent between Oscar and that girl. There just wouldn’t—she was too young, for one thing. And another?—

Well, he could not think of any other reason, actually. Besides her age. Twenty. A mere girl of twenty had him almost consumed with her. Somehow.

She was intriguing, intelligent, articulate, entertaining, and highly attractive. A man would be quite fortunate to marry a woman like Beatrice. Even him. Except, Oscar had no intention of marrying any woman for quite a while. Maybe he would marry when he was forty. Have a child or two, and be content. But it would not be Beatrice he married then. She would be well into matrimony with whomever caught her soon. Probably with a child or two, delivered by Iagan himself. Happy and content.

Why did he need to wait to marry at forty, anyway? Oscar would like a child or two, he decided. And would like to be young enough to enjoy doing things with them, and with his wife. Iagan certainly seemed happy with his redheaded fiend.

Ahead, a flicker of light caught his eye—a figure moving toward the orchard. Small, slight. Instantly recognizable. It was her. What on earth was that girl doing out here this late? He had told her this was a dangerous place for a lone female earlier. Apparently, she did not listen.

“Beatrice!” he called.

She stopped, and turned. What was she doing outside this late? Maybe it wasn’t even ten yet, but…she had no business outside. Even with the lamp in her hand.

He moved, until he was right next to her. “What are you doing out here?”

“What business is it of yours what I do, Dr. Collins?”

Her defiance might have amused him under different circumstances, but the sight of her alone in the night only irritated him even more. “The ground’s rough and uneven out here now. Dangerous. Iagan has the whole place practically broken up today. You shouldn’t be walking around out here this late.”

Iagan was having the men install a new cistern and a new plumbing system. He wanted the highest technology possible for his hospital. And he wasn’t wasting time—nor expense. They were doing the prep work now, so that in the spring, they could do the real work necessary.

There were still a few workers from town wandering about tonight, too. He could see them loading their wagons in the distance. Workers who had been too damned interested in this little bird and the rest of the flock for his peace of mind.

Especially with her wandering out of the house to watch. Men liked being watched, especially by beautiful girls like this one.

“I needed air,” she said, then turned away from him. “Surely I’m allowed that much. I have walked to the carriage barn this late, fully alone, before. Dr. Coleson knows that. I have every night before bed for almost two weeks now.”

Oscar caught up to her. There was something off—she wouldn’t even look him in the eyes now. Before…she had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. She did not look at him.

“You’re lying. Tell me.” They both knew he didn’t have the right to make such a demand of this woman. He made it anyway.

“And you’re prying. What I do, doctor, is none of your business. I am not your responsibility, Dr. Collins. Best remember that.”

Well, there was definite truth to that. But a part of him felt like she was.

“Tell me why you are out here.” He had no right to ask, but he could not in all conscience let her walk about the place with men he did not know wandering around every corner. The Coleson estate was vast. There were far too many places an unscrupulous man could hide, and wait. To drag her off, to hurt her. To watch her.

A man would just want her. Ache for her. Not many would be immune.

Oscar was starting to suspect he wasn’t.

A rather large part of him wanted to grab the girl, toss her over her shoulder, borrow a horse from Iagan’s stables and just…carry her off into the dark and have his way with her. He’d bring her back in the morning, of course. And then drag her off again the next night. And possibly the next. Man’s desire to mate was imperative to the survival of the species, after all. Apparently, not even men such as he were immune.

Of course, Iagan would have a problem with that. It was probably the only thing keeping Oscar on his most gentlemanly behavior. He could not just carry away one of Elspeth’s little birds for mating purposes. He suspected they would frown on that.

“Why will you not just leave me alone?”

He stepped closer. This woman…she needed to learn—it was a matter of basic self-preservation. “Because you’re out here in the middle of the night, and I don’t trust this ground not to send you sprawling. Another—there is nothing that says the men out here are good men. And you are a mighty tempting sight, little Beatrice. Someone has to look out for you. If Coleson won’t do it, then…well, I guess that does make you my responsibility, now doesn’t it?”

“I do not need you to look out for me!”

“Clearly, you do!”

“I am no man’s responsibility! I am no one’s responsibility at all!”

“Then perhaps you need to be!” Oscar wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her closer when she would have tripped on the uneven ground.

She stared at him, her breath coming fast. Her hands trembled on the shawl, making him feel like a jackass.

That was when he realized…

This girl—she was afraid of him. It was his own damned fault, too.

She didn’t know him at all, and each time they’d been alone, he had been almost confrontational. He had fought with her—because something about her made him feel on edge.

He stepped toward her. Just to test his theory.

She immediately gasped and stepped back.

Hell. He’d scared her, hadn’t he? Oscar had actually raised his voice with her.

This girl had made him feel something. Even if it was just irritation and…concern. And if he admitted it to himself, possessive.

How had she gained so much power over him so quickly? He wanted to pull her close, to tell her he was sorry for being a braying jackass and ask for forgiveness. And then he wanted to taste her. To feel her pressed against him, her knowing he wanted her.

He wanted to make it clear that no other man could have her. Ever. Just him.

Hell, Oscar wanted her. Completely.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked. “I am nothing to you. We both ken that, so there is no use pretending otherwise.”

Oscar had been asking himself the same thing since the moment she’d stood toe-to-toe with him in the library. What was it about this girl that got to him so damned much?

Why did he want her so much?

Before he could answer, Beatrice turned and resumed walking.

“Beatrice,” he called after her. He was not letting her get away. Not until he figured out what it was about her that did this to him.

She didn’t stop. Her foot caught on a patch of wet ground, and she slipped. She went down. Right in front of him.

Oscar reacted instinctively, closing the distance between them and catching her around the waist. He scooped her close. She didn’t weigh much—she was probably a bit underweight to be fully healthy, he realized. She felt like a fragile little bird, right in his grasp.

Bird caught by the cat.

Her hands clutched at his coat, her breathing quick and shallow as she regained her balance. For a moment, they were frozen, her body pressed against his. She tempted him to say to hell with the Colesons, and propriety, and basic sanity, and just scoop her up, carry her off to his cave somewhere, and show her what she did to him.

Hell, he wanted that girl. He just didn’t know how to get Beatrice without ruining the best friendship he’d ever had. He could not fool around with one of Elspeth’s little birds. Neither Elspeth nor her husband would ever forgive him.

“The ground is slick. The workers wet it for whatever fool reason they thought appropriate. Drilling a well or something. You are lucky you haven’t fallen down the shaft yet, girl.”

“You upset me. I do not like you.” She might as well have slapped him. Here he was thinking to carry the girl off and fulfill his fantasies, and she did not even like him. His ego had most certainly felt the blow there.

“I upset you?” he repeated, his voice rough. “Well, I do apologize.”

“Yes!” she burst out, pulling back just enough to glare at him. “You’re arrogant, overbearing, and you act like you ken everything about everyone. You… you make me feel like I cannot even breathe correctly!”

Oscar stared at her, the rawness of her words slicing through his defenses. He opened his mouth to reply, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“And you do not even seem to care,” she continued, her voice shaking. “You walk around this place like you own it, like the rest of us are just… just distractions! Like we are merely common peasants getting in the way of the great Dr. Oscar Collins.”

She just glared up at him in the dim lamplight. Oscar felt something crack in his own chest. To the sky above, she was beautiful. His whole body tightened with the desire to have her. To hell with Iagan, he was going to carry her off the instant he could. Maybe even right now.

Fortunately, his sanity returned quickly enough. His base instincts would just have to wait.

“I care more than you think,” he said quietly. So much more. He wanted to just carry her off, into Iagan’s damned barn and show her what she did to him.

But he wouldn’t do that to her. He just wouldn’t. She deserved more than that from a man. She deserved him to be honorable. Beatrice deserved the romance from those damned books she liked so much.

Romance was not Oscar Collins. He needed time to think, to strategize.

“You do not. We both ken it.”

“You think I don’t notice you,” he went on, his grip on her firm. Firmer than it should be. He just did not want to let her go. Not yet. “You think I look at you and see something small, something fragile. Helpless. But that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

She stared at him. “What do you see?”

“I see someone who’s braver than she realizes. Someone who’s strong enough to stand out here in the dark of night and tell me exactly what she thinks. Even when she’s wrong. And afraid.”

“Wrong? I am not wrong .”

Wrong—she had grabbed on to wrong and not afraid. He found that very telling. For her, being wrong was worse than being afraid.

“Yes. You are very wrong about me,” he said. “You don’t even know the half of it. Yet. You will just have to get to know me, sweetling. And you will.”

She stepped back abruptly. “This is a mistake.”

“What is?” He knew. Oscar wasn’t a fool, after all. She should not be outside alone with him. She just shouldn’t.

“This,” she gestured between them, her hands trembling. “This… whatever this is. I am not even sure what to call what we have been doing every time we’ve met?—”

Oscar took a step toward her. He wanted to pull her closer. She was shivering, and he wanted to protect. To wrap her up close. “Beatrice?—”

“No. I do not want to ken ye at all.”

And just like that, the fool girl took off toward the carriage barn.

Leaving him watching.

What was it about that girl?

Oscar tried to figure it out, staying right where he was—until she returned fifteen minutes later. She scurried back inside, passing right in front of him—and not acknowledging him one bit. But he was not about to let her stay outside without him, even if he had to stay at a distance. He just wasn’t.

Hell. He wanted her too damned much.

Damn Iagan for this. For bringing him here. Iagan had had four little birds to pair off, after all. Oscar was starting to think the promise of the new hospital had just been the carrot dangled for him. The bait.

Oscar was the big fish. And Little Beatrice was reeling him right in.

No doubt just like Iagan Coleson and his devil wife had intended.