Page 133 of Rogue of My Heart

Camden stood back and surveyed his handiwork. He had just finished nailing the last nail into the stall door, and now the heavy door was securely in place. A layer of grime and dust covered his face and hands, and his clothes were now stained with dirt and sweat. He tried to brush away the streaks of dust on his shirt, but only smeared the dirt further with his efforts.

As he wiped his brow with a soiled sleeve, Camden couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had done this alone and the stall door was now secure. He stepped away from the stall and looked down the length of the stable, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

A hearty neigh drifted from a nearby stall, and he turned to see his horse as it whinnied and tossed its brown head.

“You don’t care for the noise. Do you, boy?” He grinned and rubbed his aching back. “A few more nails and then you will have peace.”

The day had been hectic. He’d made up a makeshift bed in one of the third-floor chambers, and the old solar now contained a wingback chair along with a table. Woodworking had always been a hobby of his. The work allowed him to focus his energy on something other than Rebecca and his memories of the war.

He’d supervised cleaning and repairs around the castle and seen the kitchen stocked with food. Lord Chesterfield had been most generous insisting Camden use one of his footmen rather than going into Manchester himself to hire laborers and purchase supplies. The gesture saved him copious amounts of time. Now he had two servants and the necessary commodities to keep the castle running.

He glanced at the stable’s exit. Rebecca’s heart-shaped face, lush rosy lips, and fiery green eyes intruded on his thoughts. He snatched up another nail and pounded it into the wood as if to chase the memory away. The hammer slipped, landing a blow to his thumb.

“Bloody hell.” Camden grimaced as he shook his throbbing hand. He had been so lost in thought that he had not paid attention to the hammer’s aim. His thumb was now covered in a small trickle of blood, and he hastily wrapped a handkerchief around it.

Not even the pain in his thumb dulled the memory of her.

No lady had ever turned her back on him before, but Rebecca had done so twice in the same day. By all accounts, he was a handsome and successful captain in the British Army. Women threw themselves at him everywhere he went. But not Rebecca.

He returned the hammer and nails to the tack room, then massaged the back of his neck as the time he’d spent with Rebecca replayed through his mind. She’d treated him like a fly buzzing about her golden curls and shooed him away just as fast.

Another neigh made him turn his head back toward the entrance. Rebecca had stood in that very spot, capturing his curiosity from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She’d been bold and vexing, but also fearless and beautiful. Then later, at the castle wall, he’d seen her passion and fire as they faced off again. The warmth of desire spread through him at the memories. How he had longed to kiss her. Heaven help him, he longed to do more than kiss. He wished to know more about her—to know all of her.

He’d had no intention of attending the house party beyond the hunt, despite what he’d said to Rebecca. Lord Chesterfield had extended the invitation, but Camden had not committed to attending. He had only joined the hunt, hoping to discover who she was. House parties and such were the very things he aimed to avoid by lingering at Almerry rather than returning home.

But Rebecca had changed his mind with a few coy words. She’d presented a challenge he could not refuse. His stomach soured. He could not sway her opinion of him if he did not spend time with her.

Ack! He would go mad if he kept thinking about her. He glared at his still throbbing thumb. If the chit weren’t so distracting…

But she was distracting—and beautiful and witty and brave. To the devil with it. He had to see her again, and because he had to see her again, he would attend the house party. But first he needed to bathe and dress.

He entered the keep, then mounted the old stone stairs, making his way up to the makeshift bedchamber. His eyes watered from the dirt and debris clinging to every inch of his person. He wiped one filthy hand across his brow. Thankfully, he’d traveled with extra clothing. Not the most fashionable garments, but they would suffice for now. If he meant to stick around for more than a few days—and he believed he did—he’d have to expand his wardrobe.

A grin pulled at his mouth. What would Rebecca wear this evening? He quickened his pace, taking two steps at a time. Would she truly act as though he were invisible? An intense feeling of excitement flooded his body at the thought.

Camden wasted no time washing and dressing. Within an hour, he looked every bit a gentleman and had departed for the Chesterfield’s estate.

The whisper of voices mixed with laughter bubbled from the crowded music room as he entered. Camden stiffened for a heartbeat, then drew in a cleansing breath before stepping across the threshold. Rebecca wouldn’t brush him off this time. He wouldn’t allow her to.

A crush of elegantly clad gentlemen and ladies filled the space, but his gaze went directly to the pianoforte. Rebecca stood beside the instrument, her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. Her voice soothed his soul, chasing away the tension in his muscles. The room seemed to empty of everyone, save for the two of them.

He could listen to her sweet soprano for eternity without complaint. His pulse beat in his throat, keeping rhythm with her song. He moved closer. She stood with one rounded hip cocked toward the pianoforte, her eyes sparkling.

“Captain Beauchamp.”

A hand clapped Camden’s shoulder, startling him. Camden glanced sideways to find Lord Chesterfield grinning at him.

“I’m pleased you joined the party. My daughters are entertaining us for a spot.” Lord Chesterfield nodded toward Rebecca and the woman seated next to her at the pianoforte.

“They are quite talented, my lord.” Camden allowed a smile before his gaze drifted to Rebecca once again.

“They get it from their mother. Have you been introduced to my dear wife?” Lord Chesterfield surveyed the crowded room. “Lady Chesterfield is a lovely woman and I know she’d like to meet you, Captain.”

Camden lifted a glass of claret from a passing servant’s tray. “I would be happy to make her acquaintance, my lord.”

Lord Chesterfield turned, then waved toward an elegant woman. “There she is now.”

The woman came to stand next to Lord Chesterfield, her hazel eyes warm and a welcoming smile on her lips.