Page 25 of Jaxon (Gentlemen of War #4)

Jaxon

Bloody hell! I muttered as I stomped to the stable. Bloody, bloody hell. I cracked open the doors and paced the space until I located a lantern and fumbled through lighting it. What have I gotten myself into? I cannot for the life of me permit myself to ever be alone with this woman. She is maddening and beguiling all rolled in one. I was so drawn in by our rather invigorating discussion about Italy that I nearly forgot she was betrothed, then to find out the image in her locket is not her intended, after all, but her brother. Her brother who died at Waterloo.

Waterloo!

I could very well have been the man who drove that bayonet into his heart. Damn! I struck the post and it reverberated through the rafters. Rubbing my sore hand, I resumed my pacing. If she even vaguely discovered I had been on the opposite side of the fight at Waterloo, she would hate me. No, not just hate me… wish death upon me, and it would be rightly so.

I rubbed my unshaven jaw. Why did what Amelia think bother me so? As soon as that bridge is repaired, she will be gone and out of my life forever.

But is that what I truly wanted?

I removed my hat and ran my hand through my hair. A pain struck my chest at the thought of not seeing her here any longer.

It truly didn’t matter how I felt or what I thought.

She is affianced to another man!

I perched on a bale of hay through the blackest part of the night, wrestling with the chaos swirling in my mind. I cursed the twist of fate that sent this enchanting woman down this road, caught her in the rain, thus requiring a rescue. If Miss Amelia Newell had never crossed my path, I would remain blissfully ignorant of what I lacked—unaware that such an extraordinary woman ever existed.

I strode out of the stable under dawn’s new light, relieved to see the sun poking through the trees and thanked the fates for another dry day to hammer away at the bridge. With clear skies holding, we could surely finish the task in a sennight. “A sennight is still too damn long,” I muttered under my breath. Seven more days of teetering on the edge of falling for this woman. I would have to dodge her at every turn, and the quicker she vanished from here, the faster I could put her and her desirable mind out of mine.

That morning, I sent O’Keefe by himself to traverse the woods to take a letter for Zachary to be sent by messenger. I could not in good conscience send him without Amelia’s knowledge, but it took a great deal of strength to dissuade her from joining him. While I did not doubt her skill in handling a horse… or anything else she set her mind to, I did not wish for her to engage in such an arduous feat alone with my footman. While I trusted him, it was too great a risk and certainly was not wise to have the lot of them go.

Truthfully, I could not rest knowing she was out there without me.

“Thank you for your sound advice, Mr. Jack.” She had reverted to my formal name. I had hurt her, though I was unsure if it was from last night when we spoke of Waterloo or now, but I could not allow her discomfort to deter me from keeping her safe. “I will not take any undue risks. Now that Mr. Duncan has awakened,” she continued, “we will eagerly await the bridge’s completion, and then we can all travel on safely.” The way she looked at me when she said this was if she searched for a response. I knew I was torn with this answer, but I refused to show it. In all honesty I wished for her to stay as equally as I wished for her to leave. I shoddily tamped down the torment that raged within me, clearing my face of any expression.

Before I departed her presence, she lifted her hand to halt me. “But I would be most obliged if O’Keefe could take a letter for Henrietta, Mr. Duncan’s wife, and…” she paused, “my aunt.”

I wanted to inquire why her first personal correspondence sent in four days would be to her aunt and not her intended. Did I dare hope her heart had shifted? But guilt crept in, extinguishing that thought. I could not encourage this. I could not allow her to betray him. I tipped my hat and practically ran from her presence.

After O’Keefe departed, I threw myself into work alongside the others, toiling into dusk with minimal breaks for sustenance. I pushed hard, determined to move as quickly and safely as possible. While Diggs dropped hints about our unresolved discussion, I plowed through, bound and determined to stay on task. We had plenty of time to speak once Miss Amelia was on her way.

O’Keefe returned the next day and reported no correspondence had come during this period of disconnect with the village. “No post at all awaited me?” I pressed.

“I’m sorry, sir. Nothing.”

This surprised me. Every week since arriving here, I had always received word from Luke, Zach, or Hunter.

Having no knowledge of what might be occurring in London or, heaven forbid… here, drove me to work harder and faster. I could not risk the lives of Miss Amelia and her staff.

After an additional two days’ time, our efforts were paying off and we had reached the halfway mark in the river. Securing the posts and nailing down the boards in an organized manner, we accomplished a great deal. We did not have the luxury of time to create a bridge that could span the width of a wagon, but for now we only needed it wide enough for a horse to cross.

As night fell, I trudged inside, weary and hungry. I had sent the men in long before me, hoping that the later hour lessened the chance of seeing someone in particular. When I entered the room, all were seated at the table, waiting for me to join them. My foul mood from the last two days had carried over to a third. I had no intention of being social.

“Forgive me, but please, proceed without me.” I paused and called for my housekeeper as she ventured back from the kitchen, “Mrs. Gentry?” She hustled over quickly for our private conversation.

“I apologize, Mrs. Gentry, but I will be going to my room straightaway.”

“Are you well, sir?” She gave me a quick glance over, certain to be searching for injuries beyond the innumerable smudges of dirt.

“I am well enough, though exhausted and sore.”

“We thought to have music tonight.”

“Do not let me stop you, but I will kindly excuse myself. Might you first help me with a few tasks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have my dinner brought up to my room and ask Diggs to retrieve the copper basin. I am in desperate need of a bath. Cook can heat the water and direct the men to bring it up. I do not wish for Anna or you to do such a thing.”

She patted my hand like a mother would and I adored her resolve in working to placate everyone. “Anything else?”

I looked past her and caught Amelia’s eye. She appeared concerned and the hurt I had seen in previous days resurfaced.

“Let our guests know, we should have the bridge finished in a few days then they can be on their way.”

She arched a brow and lowered her voice. “Is that truly what you wish, Jaxon?” She said my real name, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear it.

“Yes,” I said, though there was no conviction behind my words. “That is truly what I wish.”

I took to the stairs two at a time and strode to my bedchamber without looking back. The last three days had kept me safe and far from Amelia’s charms, as I constantly reminded myself that she was soon to wed another man.

I walked over to the window and looked out upon the woods as I tugged my neckcloth loose. Dirt sprayed the floor as I removed it. Brushing my hands along my sleeves and trousers, another spray of dirt joined the first.

A knock came at the door just as I began to unbutton my shirtsleeves.

“Come in,” I said, walking toward the door, expecting it to be Diggs with the copper basin.

The latch opened ever so slowly and, when the door widened, Amelia stood there. She wore a lovely blue gown that, only if you looked closely, you would see the mended portions of it or the less than perfect trim, like the fragile lace missing in parts along the collar of her bodice.

Why was I looking?

I swallowed hard and looked down at the neckcloth I had just removed, tangling it in my fingers. Fortunately, I had not yet stripped down in anticipation of the basin, but the upper part of my chest was now exposed, and Amelia’s eyes fell to it briefly before she met my eyes.

Her cheeks darkened. “Forgive me, Jack,” she said with hesitation. “It seemed like a good idea a moment ago.”

“What idea is that?”

“Coming here.” She took a step inside the door but left it open. “I must ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Why have you avoided me?” Her voice cracked slightly. “We have barely spoken since…” she gnawed softly on her bottom lip. “Well, since you returned my locket.”

I turned away and slung my neckcloth over a chair. “This is highly inappropriate, Amelia. Even here, staff can make erroneous assumptions, and it could somehow get back to your betrothed.” I circled back to find her much closer. If I reached out, she would be within touching distance. My body went rigid.

“I want to apologize for making you speak of the war,” she said. “I miss Peter so much that I’m desperate to know what he endured, and I did not consider how you might feel about that.”

I watched her.

She took the necessary steps to bring herself even closer, touching my hand with the barest of brushes. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through such a dreadful experience, Jack, and I’m truly sorry I was the one who made you think of it.”

As tender as her touch was, it weakened me. If it weren’t for the blessed dirt that caked my body and clothing I might have been tempted to draw her to me. Her fingers caressed my scruffy jaw tenderly. “I wish we never had to go to war. I wish all our men were living the lives they intended to live. I wish…” she looked at me and my heart stopped. It was the look I recognized from my own desire.

Her eyes flitted to my lips, then dropped to my neck. I should have been more modest at this moment and attempted to cover my exposed skin, but I felt paralyzed beneath her touch.

Her lips parted just enough for me to feel her subtle breath warm against my skin. She slid her thumb along my jaw, grazing my neck and tracing the scar. The scar! I had forgotten how ghastly it looked.

As she touched it ever so gently, the strangest expression came over her face. Repulsion? Perhaps pity? Did it frighten her? It was almost a look of… astonishment. Several heartbeats of silence passed between us.

“You—” when her lips parted a smidgeon more, I was sorely tempted to close the gap.

The air thickened with the intensity of her proximity and my desire. She’s betrothed! I screamed in my head. Her touch sent shivers down my body, and it took every effort I had to restrain my hands.

“You are—” she continued to caress the mark, but her words disappeared and, instead of finding repugnance in her expression, I found regard.

And I could no longer resist her. My hands found her waist and clenched softly. As her fingers slid from my scar to rest on the open V of my shirt, my heartbeat thrummed beneath her touch. I had never wanted to kiss a woman more in my entire life. Leaning inward, I surrendered to the magnetic lure of her lips. Barely a breath away, they parted as if she welcomed me.

“Your basin, Mr. Jack.” The door sprung the rest of the way open and Diggs entered, stopping momentarily at the sight of Miss Amelia so close to me in my bedchamber. He cleared his voice. “The others are on their way up with the hot water.” His tone initiated a warning. One in which Amelia regarded immediately with a backward step.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jack.” She clutched the sides of her skirt and walked out.

Diggs rubbed his forehead, waiting for her to disappear before he spoke again. “I apologize for interrupting.”

“It’s nothing.” I brushed it off, but it was not nothing. I wanted her and it seemed apparent her affections were mutual. I had expected any woman to cower at the sight of my scar… all of them, truthfully. I rubbed my wrist where the faint imprints of shackles had started to diminish, but the one on my neck might never fade.

Once the bath was filled and the latch on the door closed, I stripped off the remainder of my clothing and slipped into the warm bathwater. I had missed this daily luxury in London. It felt wonderful to have the grime slide off my skin. I grabbed a bar of soap and as I generously lathered my hair, I recognized how long it had become. I was due for a significant cut, considering I had not trimmed it once since our arrival. I would have Jesse take care of that along with a shave.

What might Amelia think then?

I quickly chastised myself. I was not the type of man to steal another man’s fiancée. I had no right to her affection regardless of her interest. She was here only because she failed to get to her wedding in a timely manner. How could I not remember that?

Blast. I had let myself slip again.

I needed to get this bridge finished posthaste!