Page 14 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge (Safely in Scotland #3)

T he next day, supplies arrived and Reese and Harlow worked tirelessly at setting up everything needed for her stage of sorts. He was impressed by her thoroughness to every detail.

“It must be as lifelike as possible,” she said, not for the first time as they’d been working.

Reese hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until Mrs. Garrison brought in the noon meal. Despite the macabre outcome, they’d had a great deal of fun creating everything.

“You don’t need to dig so very far,” she ordered later that afternoon, when he complained about the physical labor with the spade. “Do you want me to do it?”

His eyes went wide. Leave it to Harlow to offer to take over.

“What experience do you have with digging holes in the dirt, Lady Harlow?” he teased.

“More than you would think. I once got in a great deal of trouble for digging a hole and covering it in sticks and leaves. I hid in the bushes for Hen to walk by and get his foot caught in it. I wasn’t expecting Miss Perkins, our nurse, to find it instead.

She was laid up for some time.” Harlow winced while Reese did his best not to laugh and failed.

“My, but you must have been quite the hoyden when you were a lass.”

“Some would say I’m still a hoyden today. I know my dowry held most of my appeal, but I wonder if anyone would find me suitable without it.”

Reese wanted to tell her he enjoyed her vivacity quite a lot.

He’d danced and spoken with a number of young ladies during the Season who were taught to keep their light hidden away.

Instead speaking only of the dullest of topics.

Harlow was refreshing and fun. In fact, he could envision a happy life for the man who married her. Whoever he turned out to be.

He winced at the prickly feeling in his stomach that came over him all of a sudden and for no reason at all. Clearing his throat, he told her what he thought.

“Someone who wishes to spend his life having a great deal of fun will offer for you without a thought to the money. And I know a lot of men who do not wish to give up on enjoyment when they marry.”

“And these great lot of men… Are they already married?”

He winced. “Aye. Most of them.”

Later as they had turned to the task of painting, Reese found himself watching as she concentrated on her letters. Did she know her tongue peeked out of her lips the tiniest bit when she focused so intently? He found it adorable, as he found too many things about her.

He imagined what it might be like if he was the man who got to spend his life with her and how he would never fear spending a moment in boredom. But she had rejected him already, so she was not to be his future. He would enjoy this time with her and think fondly of her when she left.

“Belle!” Harlow yelled when the dog came too close as to get black paint in her wiry coat. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, it was her own fault and I can assure you, it’s not the worst thing I’ve had to wash out of her fur.”

As if trying to make amends, his dog came close and rubbed her head on his leg, essentially covering him in black paint.

“Thanks, old girl.” He shook his head at the dog as Harlow giggled.

After their meal they spent the evening in the library reading to each other.

She had kicked off her half boots and had her small feet tucked up on the settee next to her.

As she read, he became fixated on her toes as they wiggled inside her stockings and he imagined going over there and removing them so he might press a kiss to the arch of her foot before moving up to her dainty ankle.

Then her calves and her knees. He would touch the inside of her thighs with the tip of his tongue and trace a line up to her—

“Reese?” she interrupted his thoughts, and it was clear by the crease between her brows it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. “Are you bothered by my feet on your furniture? I’d not think you so fussy when Belle is sprawled out on the other settee. My feet are surely cleaner than the dog.”

“Nay. It doesn’t bother me. I was just thinking of something else. The dress you will need for the scene in the garden.”

“Ah. I will start working on it tomorrow. But now, it is your turn to read the next chapter. Unless you’ve grown tired.”

“I’ll read one last chapter and then we can go to our beds.”

She hopped up and brought the book over to him. Their fingers touched as they passed it between them, and he felt the shock of it down to the place where he still throbbed. He was grateful she was able to bring the book to him as he would have been unable to stand to retrieve it himself.

As he settled into reading the story—feeling a bit lost as he had missed her reading most of the last chapter—he saw how his life could be with the right woman.

He’d spent nearly every moment of the day with Harlow, yet he wished he didn’t have to say goodnight.

He could have happily spent the rest of the night with her.

Especially doing the things he’d been considering earlier.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked when he stopped speaking.

“Nay. I’m still awake. Sorry.” He continued reading until the end of the chapter.

When she didn’t say anything, he looked over to find her sleeping.

He took a moment to study her features. The way her perfect bow lips parted slightly.

The way her dark lashes caressed her cheeks.

That raven hair pulled back in a braid. Though like her, the locks had fought their way free throughout the day.

His gaze continued down her body, taking in each hill and valley to end with those small feet, just peeking out from under the edge of her skirt.

With a sigh, he stood and went to her. He should wake her.

It was one thing to use her slumber to stare at her, but yet another to use it as a way to pick her up so he could hold her body against his.

He reasoned that she would be too tired to climb the stairs to her room, and this would be the most expedient way to get her where she needed to be.

But as soon as he settled her against him, he was cursed with the truth.

He wanted her. Physically, of course, for she was a beautiful woman, but that was not the extent of his desire. He wanted her smiles and laughter. He wanted her thoughts and stories. He wanted her .

“Bloody hell.” He settled her on the bed and as Belle took her post at the woman’s side, he left. In the hall, he’d hoped to regain control over his feelings but it seemed they would not relent.

He spent the first hours trying to sleep and failing. He was restless with thoughts of Harlow. Not just the surprise of how much fun he had had with her, but hearing her tell her story about her time on the Zephyr had called up memories of his moments with the vicious Merrick.

Thinking of what might have happened to her if she’d not escaped made him shift restlessly. To think he’d never have known her.

Soon he was back in that alley along the wharf where a French spy was expected to arrive soon enough. They would intercept the man—or woman—who arrived for the meeting and bring them in for questioning.

They hadn’t expected Merrick to show up. He’d been a person of interest in a smuggling case as were many captains of sailing vessels at the time. But they hadn’t realized until that night that he dealt in more than just silks and wine. He sold secrets.

When they had the spy apprehended, Reese had turned his attention on Merrick, running after him with a few other agents following. But Reese was closest. He’d not expected the man to suddenly stop running. Not until he’d seen the glint of the metal when the pistol was raised in Reese’s direction.

He remembered seeing the flash in the dark night when the gun was fired. In the bright light he saw the smoke from the charge. And then he felt the thud as if he’d been hit by a herd of elephants as he fell to the damp wood of the dock.

Heat burned through him as he reached down for his leg, expecting to put out a fire. But there was no flame. His hand was instantly coated in thick, warm blood.

His vision began to falter as he looked to where Merrick had been. To his surprise he found the man still standing there. Nay, he was closer now. With a smoking weapon in one hand, he pulled the twin of that pistol from his coat and aimed it at Reese.

Past the opening of the barrel, Reese saw the man close one eye with an evil smirk on his lips. And then the loud bang of the second shot.

Reese knew then he was having a nightmare, for that night Merrick had not fired a second shot. The shouts of the other men coming closer had forced him to tuck the unfired weapon back in his coat as he ran off.

But it had been a close thing, and Reese knew that second shot would have been fatal.

He gasped for air as he woke to the bright room. He was covered in sweat, his hair and bedclothes wet. Somehow despite having been asleep, he was more exhausted than he’d been before he’d laid down the night before.

He called for a bath and took his time washing and getting ready for the day. As was often the case, it took some time for him to be able to push away the fear left by the dream.

Things could have ended so differently for him that night.

But he was alive and he’d at least been able to aid in Captain Merrick’s capture.

Albert would find the man in Inverness and capture him.

And when the man was brought back to England to face his crimes, Reese would make sure to have a front row spot for his hanging.

And when the man’s body had finished twitching, Reese hoped he’d finally be able to sleep soundly again.

*

Harlow woke with a start. She’d been dreaming, as was common since her escape from the Zephyr, but instead of her imagination providing images of Merrick chasing her as hands grabbed at her, it was a different man and the hands touching her were not that of an enemy.

She’d dreamed of Reese. She’d recalled the scent of him, leather and the sea, as she’d slept.

She’d noted it many times before, but yesterday they had worked closely together while painting and digging in the dirt.

Sometimes their heads touching. It was easier to remember the way he’d smelled when her air had been filled with his scent.

She remembered the warmth of his hands as he’d taken the book from her, but also in all the times they’d touched for some reason or another. But in her dreams he’d touched her purposefully in places no man had ever touched her before.

She’d dreamed of him kissing her. And while she lacked the factual elements to make a true reproduction, the details her mind conjured up were quite pleasing. For whatever reason, she’d dreamed he’d tasted like Cook’s lemon biscuits. Perhaps because they were her favorite.

She thought of the way he’d looked at her earlier that evening. She loved walking in the gardens with him and talking about the antics they got up to in their childhood. But the cozy evenings when they read to one another was peaceful in a different way than she’d ever known.

She was often busy, moving about to find something to occupy her restless energy, but when she was just lying on the settee listening to the low timbre, and soft brogue of Reese’s voice, she felt calm. It was a place where she could happily belong.

She wondered if she’d been hasty when she’d rejected his proposal.

She knew well enough he’d offered simply because he was a gentleman, playing her steadfast savior and nothing more.

But still, perhaps if she’d accepted, they could have found happiness together.

She certainly would have been happy with Reese.

She let out a breath and squeezed her eyes closed.

While the dream was pleasant for many reasons, it was not any less unsettling than her nightmares.

For she was still left flustered, with her heart pounding.

After a terror she would grab hold of good thoughts and hold on until daylight.

But after this dream she wished it had not been morning so she might fall asleep again and pick up where she’d left off.

She doubted Reese would offer marriage again, as he didn’t plan to marry.

The way he’d sighed in utter relief when she’d stopped him, proved he was not truly interested in being her husband.

But if he did have reason to offer again, she would be ready.

And this time she might have a different answer.