Page 5 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)

In Which the Happily Unmarried Husband meets his Neighbour

Harry awoke early, just as the day was dawning, driven by a need to relieve himself.

“That damn tea,” he muttered, pushing back the linens. But it was a passing comment, rather than a complaint. This was the first morning he’d felt almost human. Sitting on the side of the bed, he tested his body, pleased to find that everything seemed to be working, if a bit weakly. His ankle was sore, and he was somewhat unwilling to place his full weight on it, but he could manage a respectable limp that got him to where he needed to be, and back again.

His clothes were neatly folded on top of the small bureau, clean and ready for him.

Willow, he thought, was indeed a rather well-organised “wife”.

The thought of dressing himself was enervating, but he knew damn well he was in serious need of a bath, so he crept from his room, using the cane that stood in readiness by the door.

Many of these houses lacked the space for an indoor bath but made up for it with a little outside nook where a shower of cold water would serve as a replacement.

As silently as possible, he slithered through the living room, where Willow slept curled up on the small sofa. The blankets tucked up beneath her chin, and her loosened hair, made her look like a child slumbering peacefully. She must be exhausted, he realised. Nursing a grown man wasn’t an easy chore, even with assistance.

But she’d done it, managed everything, and got him back on his feet.

He was alive, in all probability, thanks to her care. It was a debt he’d never be able to repay, and he knew it. Someday, he swore to himself, someday he’d be able to help her in return. Whatever she might need, he’d provide without question.

Reaching the kitchen without making a sound, he grabbed a cloth and cautiously lifted the bar across the door. There was a brief hit of cold air that made his toes curl, but then he was out, silently latching the door behind him.

And there was the little open nook. He prayed the water wasn’t frozen in the pipe leading up to it. A chain pull hung loosely, and—shivering now—he stripped off his nightrobe and stepped inside.

How he managed not to scream when the ice-cold stream hit his head, he didn’t know. But he’d always been able to tough things out, even when Ashe Trease had thrown him, naked, into a snowbank when they were young.

This was a horribly similar experience, but the refreshing, if brief, moments beneath the clean water made him feel human once more, and a brisk rubdown with the cloth finished the job.

He struggled back into his nightgown, blessing the thick cotton, and retraced his footsteps, closing the kitchen door behind him, and locking it.

He hoped Willow was still sleeping. He’d tell her about his impromptu bath, but since it would be a fait accompli, he might be able to avoid a scolding.

Walking back toward the living room, he eased the door open, only to stop short as he found himself confronted by an obviously angry young woman with her hands firmly on her hips.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

His lips twitched. “God, you’re like your mother when you do that.” He grinned. “Lady Hazel is an amazing woman, of course, but truthfully, she could scare the life out of all of us from time to time.”

“And deservedly so,” snapped Willow. “Do you understand the stupid risk you took? If you had fallen and I’d not awoken yet…you’d have frozen to death out there or at least re-injured your ankle. How could you do something so foolish?”

“I needed to wash.” He shrugged. “I smelled like a goat, and that bothered me.”

“A goat is smarter than you,” she fired back. “A goat wouldn’t risk re-injuring his ankle just to get a wash, which you could have had indoors quite well, had you waited for me to wake up and get some water heated.”

He straightened. “Did it occur to you that I might have wanted to begin doing things for myself and not depend on you so much? To take the burden off your shoulders?” He frowned, taking a step closer. “You have, in all likelihood, saved my life, Willow. What kind of bounder would I be if I let you carry on waiting on me, hand and foot, when I should be starting to look after myself?”

“A sensible one.” She refused to retreat. “And a thoughtful person would at least have let me know you wanted a damn bath.”

“So that you could spend an hour heating water, dragging whatever tub might be around here into the living room, filling it, and then probably scrubbing my blasted back for me, as if I was a helpless twelve-year-old?”

“Yes, if that’s what it took.” Her chin went up.

They stared at each other, inches apart, and Harry couldn’t help his gaze drifting to those ripe and lovely lips.

His body heated, reminding him that he was alive, male, and standing in front of a beautiful woman who was also clad in a nightgown.

“Willow,” he breathed.

“I…” Colour rushed into her cheeks as she gazed into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He raised a hand and touched her chin. “I won’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry too,” she sighed. “I would probably have felt the same, had our roles been reversed.”

It was a wrench, but he stepped back, widening the distance between them. “I will dress myself today…” he held up his hand, “and I promise to call you if I can’t manage.”

She nodded. “All right. Your clothes are…”

“I know, I saw them. Thank you.” He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “We will have to leave as soon as we can, so it’s time we find out what I am capable of, in the way of moving around, and possibly travelling.”

“If you say so,” Willow sighed. “I’ll make breakfast. Decisions like these are best made on a full stomach.”

Turning away, she walked to the stove, and he returned to his room, determined to dress himself in real clothes. He had a duty, and it was urgent. Yet there was something wistful in the realisation that this little sojourn, just the two of them in a small cottage by the sea, was coming to an end.

*~~*~~*

“This is the best breakfast I can recall having,” said Harry, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know you could cook, Willow.” He picked up his cup and sipped appreciatively.

“Why would you?” she answered, keeping her voice level and calm. “I can manage simple dishes. Mama insisted that we all learn, even Ashe. She said one never knew when such a skill might come in handy.”

“She was right,” he nodded. “And the tea is lovely, too. Thank you.”

She placed her own cup carefully on its saucer, and then rested her arms on the table, leaning forward a little. “So you are the man that Madame was waiting for. The painting…some sort of code, was it? The VDV to confirm you had the right place?”

He blinked. “You surprise me.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman and should be busily embroidering and simpering at eligible gentlemen?” Her snort was emphatic.

“Not at all,” he replied, a little grin curving his lips. “You are pure Trease, my dear. You have all the intelligence of your family, which is considerable. Every one of you is a damn sight smarter than you’d like people to think.”

“Since that is your opinion, and one with which I cannot but agree, you’ll have no difficulty explaining your current situation to me, will you?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, then pushed his cup and saucer aside as he, too, leaned his forearms on the table and met her gaze.

“Yes, this was indeed the house I was referred to after my return from France.”

She swallowed, expecting as much, but still concerned. “You were there? In the fighting?”

He shook his head. “No, not this time.” He paused. “There have been others, but they have no bearing on this conversation or this situation.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but could wait for an explanation.

“My trips to France have been in conjunction with the Duke’s need for cavalry horses.”

The Duke. Wellington …

Willow managed not to gasp, but it was a close thing. “You’ve been provisioning the Duke himself?”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “You surprise me. Yes, that is exactly what I was doing.”

“But…”

She had so many questions that her mind blanked for a moment, unable to organise them sufficiently for speech.

“I’ve been across the channel several times on this matter,” he continued, “and I’m happy to think that my expertise has been of some use to our forces.”

“Did you buy horses here and transport them?”

“God no. That’s a job for the cavalry and its associated branches. That business is complicated and lengthy.” He shook his head. “I was asked to assess the worthiness of the stock Wellington was offered there, in France. Not everyone there is fully supporting the Emperor’s efforts to conquer the world, especially when their loved ones don’t come home.”

“I can understand that.”

“Anyway, it was decided that such business would be best accomplished quietly and without fanfare. Since I had acquired a reputation for knowing my horses, and could travel wherever I wanted on a whim, I was the perfect candidate to advise and recommend reliable beasts.”

“Hmm.”

“It makes sense,” he said, tilting his head to one side. “Horses are a necessary part of life, from the farm to the battlefield.”

“Oh yes,” she nodded, “it does indeed make perfect sense. Actually, it makes a little too much sense, Harry.”

His face was an amusing blend of puzzlement and curiosity. But Willow had studied him too closely for too many years to be diverted by it.

“You just regaled me with a smooth and sensible tale. And I’m sure there is enough truth in it for it to be accepted by most people. However, I am not most people.” She looked him straight in the eye. “You were spying, Harry Chalmers. Underneath the masquerade of horse trading, you were spying.”

Harry blinked and opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the sound of a loud knock on the front door made them both jump.

Willow sighed. “A moment. We will get back to this, you can be sure.”

Walking out of the kitchen to answer the door, she didn’t notice Harry’s face slip into a serious expression.

But she did see the exasperation that replaced it as she walked back into the room.

“Harry, dear, this is the wonderful lady who has saved your life.” She turned to the large, smiling woman standing behind her. “This is Mrs Smithers, who lives next door. Without her help, I doubt we’d be breakfasting this morning.”

He stood and walked to her. “Mrs Smithers. Ma’am. Words are insufficient to express the breadth of my gratitude.” He took her hand and bowed over it, raising it to his lips and dropping a light kiss on her knuckles.

“Oh my,” she blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.

Willow rolled her eyes.