The Gentleman and the Rogue (31 page)

Jem sucked in a long breath and decided he could keep his temper too. He'd skip reading Alan a lecture and attempt a normal conversation. “True enough that the chit's got her fits and starts. But other things too have formed her into something unusual. Look at the way she loves to be out of doors. Even if Schivvers hadn't snagged her, she would have had a strange life for a female. Easy to see she's ridden a horse in this manner before. And I'd say all those years with her mum and dad turned her into someone who hates four walls.”

Alan smiled as he saw her cantering back across the field. “And today she's shown herself to be a centaur.”

And just like that, his worry seemed to ease away. He still rode straight with shoulders back, but the stiffness seemed gone from his form and mouth.

Even better, when they announced it was time to return to the house, the girl acted like a child. A stubborn, normal child with a temper.

They'd gone exploring down the path into the woods. For a time, they'd dismounted and rested by a stream. Annie had been dropping sticks into it, watching them float away, carried by the swift current.

When Alan made the announcement, she paused and shook her head. Instead of going to her horse, she very deliberately bent to pick up another stick. Alan and Jem got on their horses. Annie dropped the stick into the water. Then went in search of another stick.

“We're going,” Alan repeated.

She paused and shook her head, again.

“Hark this, sir,” Jem said in a low voice. “She's disobeying us. 'Tis a miracle.”

Alan flashed him a fast grin and turned his horse back in the direction of the house.

“You're leaving? Going?” she called after, sounding panicked.

“Back home. It's time,” said Alan. “My leg hurts.”

“Oh.” She gave a little cry. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. Don't leave me.” She rushed to her horse, which had been tied to a small tree.

There was a stump she could have used as a block to remount, but with a sigh, Alan slid from his horse. He handed Jem the reins and walked over to where she stood. Jem couldn't hear what they talked about, but she soon calmed. Alan helped her back into the saddle—he actually picked her up, and she didn't appear to mind his hands on her waist.

“There now,” he called back to her as he strode to where Jem waited. “I would never abandon you. Jem would kill me.”

“I would indeed,” Jem said in a hearty voice.

Alan rolled his eyes at Jem and grimaced only a bit as he swung back onto the saddle.

* * *

Later that day, Jem walked into the library, a dark room mostly because the damask curtains were kept drawn to protect the expensive carpet and books from direct sunlight. He found Alan pulled up to his desk, flipping through some account books, frowning down at the neat figures entered by the steward. Annie lay flat on her stomach, propped on her elbows, reading a book.

Jem knew better than to bother Alan when he wore that fierce expression of concentration, so he asked, “What's that you're looking at, Annie?”

“A history of ancient Greece,” she said. “But I do hope to go outside soon.”

Jem beamed at her. Not only had she offered an unsolicited opinion, that sounded almost like a whine. Excellent progress.

“Annie's a good reader,” Alan said. Apparently the numbers were failing to hold his attention, for he suddenly pushed back his chair and came at Jem. For a moment Jem wondered if by some miracle the man would hug and kiss him right there. Instead he leaned close and, his breath warm on Jem's ear, he whispered. “I have a wonderful idea. Ask Annie to teach you to read. It will make her feel competent.”

Jem motioned for him to go out to the hall. Annie followed but stopped in the doorway to watch. The distance she'd allowed them to go away from her was growing. That was some way to gain some privacy.

Jem turned his back and in a low voice muttered, “And I'll feel like a great addle-pated fool, being taught by a slip of a girl.”

Alan paid no attention to the weak protest. He put a hand on Jem's shoulder. “She'll have to sit close to you, and she won't feel threatened. And she'll feel important helping you. She likes that.”

“Oh, bugger,” grumbled Jem. “I'll give it a go.” He'd much rather have Sir Alan teach him.

Alan was right. The girl did like the idea of being able to do something a grown-up man couldn't manage—and she did have to sit close to him. She was too polite to mock Jem too, a nice change from Noah, who'd attempted to teach him some letters.

* * *

The next day, Alan left to speak to the vicar about repairs to the church's bell tower. It rained, and Jem talked Annie out of taking a walk in the downpour. He had his second reading lesson and sat on the sofa with Annie next to him. She was so close, her leg pressed to his, but she didn't seem to mind at all. Jem wanted to point it out so she could see how far she'd come, but instead he concentrated on the lesson, deciding if she was going to be so dedicated to the effort, he should put in some work too.

A book lay open in her lap. She read aloud in a low, hesitant voice. Jem thought he could recognize some of the words she ran her finger over.

A large man appeared in the doorway. Jem noticed only because Annie had stopped reading and looked up. No visitors had been announced, and this ragged figure looked more like a beggar than a respectable caller. It took Jem a moment to recognize the man, but even as he rose to his feet to greet Badgeman, Annie was off the sofa, the book was on the floor, and she was running across the room. Toward the man, not away.

“Sergeant,” she cried. Amazing that she knew the man when Jem had trouble, but perhaps he'd worn that poor excuse for a beard in Spain.

The badger went down on one knee, his arms open. She pelted into him and wrapped her arms around him.

The mistake he made was returning her embrace. Suddenly she was a fighting animal, struggling to break free.

He let go at once, and she burst into gusty tears. “I'm sorry,” she whispered and ran to the door, red with mortification. But Jem stood there, blocking her way.

“Here now, Major, no need to run away,” he said cheerily. When he saw her anguish, he quickly added, “You can go if you want, but I wanna say congratulations on that. On what you just did.”

Damn, he hoped he was doing the right thing. She looked up at him, and the tears now streamed down her face. “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding like an almost-normal, exasperated girl.

“I don't wanna remind you of the bad days, Annie. Really, I don't. I know how you feel. I have nightmares of Schivvers's workroom meself. But think what would have happened a week ago if someone had hugged you and it made you unhappy.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn't answer, but he knew she listened. They had a bond, both having suffered at the surgeon's hands. Although Annie's mental torture had lasted for months and Jem's for mere hours, the scare had been enough to scar him for life. If he'd been a different sort of man. As it was, Jem had learned young to be a duck—to let everything roll of his back like water. There was no black mood or terror a joke couldn't fix.

He continued. “You'd have flinched, but you would have held yourself still and put up with a touch you hated. Now you've learned to fight when you feel scared. Mr. Badgeman, Sergeant Badgeman, I mean, is cheering for you. I know he is. Hollering and shouting huzzah. I promise you. After all, he is a fighting man. No, don't look daggers at me, girl. I'm not making a jest of it. Well done, Major!”

Alan must have mentioned something of the girl's problems in his correspondence with the badger, because instead of directing a look at him that might have incinerated him, Badgeman only nodded at Jem and said, “Of course, Major. I'm that glad to see you again, I forgot I should keep my hands to myself. Won't happen again, I promise.”

She fiercely wiped at her eyes again and, still standing near Jem, turned to face the badger. “But I don't want to be scared of you, Sergeant.”

“You're not—not truly scared. See, you're still here in the room. That other part will go away later,” Badgeman said. He sounded stern yet kindly, like a sergeant addressing a fresh recruit soon before battle, giving a speech he'd given a thousand times before. “You know when you're ailing, getting better 'tis slow. And you still ache even if the illness is gone. The aches'll go in time too. Same thing.”

She smiled, and it almost looked like a real expression.

Who'd have guessed the big lout would be so good at soothing the skittish girl? Jem wished Alan had been there to hear his ex-sergeant. He flashed a sign of approval at the man, who simply raised his one mobile brow.

Badgeman reached for his bag and swung it up onto his shoulder. He spoke to Annie again, still casual as can be, but with that note of authority. “It's like riding, Major. Has Captain Watleigh let you go on horseback yet? He wrote he planned to.”

She nodded. Jem wondered about the letters Alan had written to his ex-batman. He felt a twinge of jealousy only because he'd love to be able to read those words, straight from Alan's hand.

Badgeman went on. “He must have taught you not to rush your fences.”

She nodded again, then added, “But I'm not jumping yet. Alan says soon.”

Drat, another mistake they'd made. Badgeman flashed a look at Jem; no anger, yet clearly showing a touch of surprise to hear the girl's inappropriate use of a first name.

All he said, however, was, “Exactly. Everything in its time. Let me stash my kit, and we'll have tea, and you'll tell me about riding. Good to see you, Major, Mr. Jem.”
Mr
. Jem? What had Alan written to him?

After he left the room, Annie asked Jem, “His face looked different. Did Mr. Schivvers get him like he did you?”

Of course she hadn't seen him after Bajadoz. Jem shook his head. “No, he got the marks in the war.”

She went back to the couch and picked up the book. “I miss my mum and dad. But I won't miss that part. Not at all.” She sat with him on the couch but kept looking toward the door. And when the badger reappeared, clean and shaved, she stood up again at once.

“Why don't you give Mr. Badgeman a tour, Annie?” Jem suggested. “I'm sure he's mad to see the place.”

For the first time, Badgeman gave him a direct look and a real smile. “That's a right fine idea, Mr. Jem. Come on, Major. Forward march.” They disappeared down the hall, the big shambling bear of a man and the young girl.

* * *

She turned into Badgeman's shadow.

Jem didn't expect to miss having the girl follow him, but now he had to go and find her if he wanted her company, and he discovered he often did. Badgeman looked almost relieved when Jem took her away for a reading lesson—but equally relieved when he brought her back.

She would never be boisterous, but her piping voice could almost sound normal, and she would follow the badger and ask questions.

Jem and Alan were crossing the hall one morning when they heard Badgeman say in his slow, amused voice, “Major, I told you I got to add these figures. That means you need to be quiet two seconds in a row.”

“Hallelujah,” Jem said in a low voice. “If she's driven
him
to saying that, our Major musta been gabbling enough, making up for all those months of staying mute.”

Alan gave him a beaming smile. That made him want to crow with joy too. “Do you know the expression 'my cup runneth over'?” Alan asked.

Sure he did, but Jem said, “A waste of good beer?”

“It's from the Bible. It means I have more than enough for my needs. It can be an expression of extreme happiness.”
My happiness
, he didn't say, but it was there in his face.

“More than enough? Naw. There's no such thing as too much happiness.”

“You're right, of course.”

“I always am. Ain't you used to that by now?”

Alan only laughed. Just the way Jem hoped he would.

Chapter Nineteen

Jem rolled over in bed and stretched out a beseeching hand. “I need you, Sir Alan. Don't deny me.”

The suggestive tone coupled with that half-lidded, sleepy-eyed look and bed-tousled hair—not to mention the fact that the boy was stark naked—drew Alan to him like a moth to flame. And oh, what a lovely burn it was.

He stood, arms folded, beside the bed, just out of reach of those grasping hands. “I have obligations. I can't simply loll around in bed with you all day. The servants would notice and start to talk.”

“Ach, the servants. A bloody busybody lot if ever there was one. Wish they'd all disappear and leave us in peace.”

“And who would cook the meals you're so fond of and keep you in clean clothing? Who'd make your bed and draw your baths? Are you prepared to take over those tasks for yourself?”

Jem stretched and yawned, raising his arms above his head, which lifted the tight little buds of his nipples and sent a wave of heat rushing through Alan. “Mmm. I'm too accustomed to sittin' in the lap of luxury now. Couldn't really do without the servants.”

“Me either. Especially my valet.”

Alan surrendered, as he'd known he would, and lay down beside Jem on the bed. He slid a hand across the smoothly muscled chest and stomach, curved it around his waist, and drew the man close before plucking at his mouth with little nibbling kisses. The tender kisses quickly grew fierier, as they always did, and soon he was plundering Jem's mouth and thrusting his straining cock against his hip. The heat and friction felt so good, they made him want more—much more.

Jem's fingers threaded through his hair, cradling Alan's head and pulling him even closer. Their mouths clashed together in a demanding duel until at last Jem pulled away with a gasp. “La, sir, you can kiss. Enough to steal a man's breath.”

Alan loved the compliment. He'd never imagined simply kissing could be such a pleasure, but he'd grown to crave it and wanted to do it every time he so much as glimpsed Jem across a room. Now he nuzzled Jem's morning-stubbled jaw and nipped his neck, making the man squirm.

Pulling back, Alan regarded him. “How do you feel about taking a ride later today? There are some tenants I should check on. Might as well turn the duty into an outing.”