“Then I am in your debt, Mr. Jermain.” Fiona extended her hand. She continued to watch him warily.
He accepted her handshake. But when he tried to touch a hand to Clara’s forehead, the little girl shrank from him.
“It’s all right,” Dulcie said softly. “Mr. Jermain just wants to see if your fever has subsided.”
Cal deliberately kept his touch gentle as he pressed his fingers to the young girl’s skin. After the briefest of contacts, he lowered his hand. He saw her gaze follow his movement, then shift to his other arm, where the cuff of his shirt ended abruptly.
“You will require some nourishment,” he said, turning away. “I’ll wake Robert.”
“No.” Dulcie wriggled off the bed. “It’s enough that we cost you your sleep. Please don’t wake Robert. I can see to their needs.”
He tried not to stare at the bare feet, the shapely ankles, peeking out from beneath her petticoat. “As you wish, Miss Trenton. Come along.” He lifted a candle from the table beside Fiona’s bed. “I’ll give you some assistance.”
Cal led the way to the kitchen and lit a lantern to dispel the gloom. Soon, with a fire on the hearth, the empty room took on a warm glow.
Without a word, Cal disappeared.
Dulcie filled a kettle from a bucket of water and placed it over the fire to boil. Then she split half a dozen biscuits and drizzled them with honey before placing them on a warming shelf above the fireplace.
When the water boiled, she wrapped a linen square around her hand and lifted the blackened kettle from the fire. Turning, she was surprised to see Cal standing at the table with a bucket of milk, which he poured into several glasses.
“I thought you’d gone to bed.” She felt a flush creep into her cheeks.
“No point in trying to sleep now. Besides, the cow would need milking in a few hours. I thought I’d save Dar the trouble. And I figured the children might be feeling hungry.”
He reached over her to a high shelf. As he did, his hand brushed the top of her head. The softness of her hair against his skin caused a pleasant sensation. Though he hadn’t intended it, he slowed his movements in order to better enjoy the moment.
What was it about this woman that heightened all his senses? Standing here, barely touching, he became aware of the soft scent of her, like a meadow after a spring rain. Though the shawl preserved her modesty, he could tell that the body beneath the opaque chemise and petticoat was perfectly formed. Long legs. Rounded hips. A slender waist. A shadowy cleft between high, firm breasts. The pale column of throat. And a face so fair, so lovely, it made his heart skip a beat.
He removed a small pouch containing tea and spices. “Aunt Bessie swears by their healing properties,” he said as he measured some into a cup.
Dulcie poured the water, inhaling their fragrance. “I don’t know if this can truly heal, but it smells wonderful.”
“Then fix yourself a cup. And one for me,” he added impulsively, sprinkling the precious spiced tea into two more cups.
He couldn’t imagine why he’d said that. It had been years since he’d tasted Aunt Bessie’s tea. And even more years since he’d done something so spontaneous. But the tea and spices did smell wonderful. And it was a small compensation for having missed his sleep.
When everything was arranged on a heavy silver tray, Cal picked it up, deftly balancing one side on his maimed arm. He indicated the lantern. “Lead the way, Miss Trenton.”
He followed her along the hallway and up the stairs, achingly aware of the sway of her hips beneath the petticoat. If the very proper Miss Dulcie Trenton knew what he was thinking, he would certainly taste her temper again. Only this time, instead of a basket of sheets, he might find himself wearing a tray of biscuits, milk and hot tea.
He could still taste that first shocking kiss. A second one would be worth whatever punishment she meted out. The thought brought a smile to his lips, which he quickly erased as she shoved open the door to Fiona’s room.
At the sight of milk and biscuits, little Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, Dulcie! Is this a party?”
“Indeed it is. We are celebrating Clara and Fiona’s return to the land of the living.” Dulcie made room on the nightstand, and Cal set down the tray.
“Aunt Bessie’s spiced tea for you, Fiona,” Dulcie announced as she handed her friend a cup.
“Aunt Bessie?”
“She is Mr. Jermain’s aunt. She asked us to call her Aunt Bessie while we are here.”
Clara accepted a glass of milk and asked solemnly, “How long will that be?”
Everyone glanced at Cal. Aware of the tense silence that had descended upon them, he weighed his words carefully. They were, after all, an inconvenience to him and his family. But it seemed unnecessary to spoil the moment.
“I’m sure you will be eager to leave as soon as both Fiona and Clara are strong enough to travel by boat to the mainland.”
“Do you mean Charleston?” Clara asked.
“Yes. That would be the nearest town.”
“But we can’t—”
In a panic, Dulcie passed the plate under the child’s nose and said firmly, “Have a biscuit, Clara.”
Cal saw the worried glances the others exchanged.
The moment passed. Clara nibbled a biscuit and retreated into stony silence. The other children sat, heads bowed, avoiding his eyes. Even Starlight, nervously tracing a finger along the pattern on the quilt, refused to lift her head.
The little scene confirmed Cal’s worst suspicions. This bunch was hiding something. Even innocent children had been coerced into keeping the secret.
He drained his cup without taking the time to taste the delicate spices. Then he placed it on the tray and said abruptly, “I’ll bid you all good morning.”
No one spoke as Cal’s footsteps receded down the hallway.
Minutes later Dulcie gathered the empty glasses and cups and placed them on the silver tray. Turning, she kissed Clara and Fiona, then said to the others, “There’s still time for an hour or more of sleep before the day begins. I suggest we put it to good use”
She lifted the candle and led her little party to their rooms. Then she headed downstairs with the tray. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she realized her mistake.
Cal had not gone back to bed. He was standing by the window, staring out over the moonlit fields. When he turned to her, there was an ominous look in his eyes.
“What is it you and the others are hiding, Miss Trenton?”
Dulcie’s breath backed up in her throat. Setting down the tray, she turned away, intent on leaving without a response. But his hand on her sleeve stopped her.
“I demand an answer, Miss Trenton.”
She lifted her chin in that infuriating way and turned to face him. “What you ask is none of your concern, Mr. Jermain.”
“The fact that you have taken refuge in my home makes it my concern, Miss Trenton. I want no trouble brought to my doorstep. The war has left my family weary beyond belief.”
Her own tone deepened with passion. “I will remind you that yours was not the only family touched by the war. We are all weary. But we must go on if we are to survive.”
Anger made him careless. Without taking time to consider his actions, he dragged her close, until her face was mere inches from his. Hot breath fanned her cheek as he growled, “Woman, you try my patience to the limit. Now