he said, supporting her.
The rest of her might be half-frozen, but her heart felt as though someone had lit a fire under it.
A moment later the inn door opened and a small man came out with a lantern.
‘Everything all right, sir?’ Then, ‘Who the devil’s this?’
The arm around her tightened. ‘Harding, this is Miss Scott. Can you rub Jupiter down while I see her home?’
Harding lifted the lantern higher. ‘Miss Scott?’
She flinched at the light, shrinking closer to Max.
The lantern lowered. ‘I’m that sorry, lass. About everything. He was a brave man. You go with the major. God bless you. I’ll see you later, sir.’
‘Harding?’
‘Yessir?’
‘Don’t wait up.’
‘Sir?’
‘Don’t wait up.’
‘Don’t…? Oh, aye. No, sir. Goodnight, sir.’ He led the horse away.
‘I shall be quite safe now,’ Verity protested. ‘You needn’t—’
‘Don’t waste your breath,’ he advised her and swung her up into his arms. ‘I’m taking you home and that’s all there is to it.’
The easy strength in his arms shocked her into silence until they reached the cottage and he set her down gently. ‘Key?’ he asked.
A bitter laugh escaped her. ‘It’s not locked. They didn’t leave anything worth stealing.’
He opened the door
The darkness within was total. ‘Wait,’ she said and made her way carefully to the table, fumbling for the candle and tinderbox she had left there.
Her numb fingers struggled with the flint and steel. Again and again she tried to strike a spark. A small sob of frustration escaped her at her clumsiness. An instant later both flint and steel were taken by gentle, unerring hands and light flared as the spark ignited the rags in the box.
‘Sit down,’ he said brusquely as he set a chair by the fire and squatted down to touch the candle to the kindling and faggots laid there. Verity obeyed and watched in bemused fascination as he tended the fire and then prowled around the kitchen, looking into every corner. Warmth stole through her, despite the damp clothes.
‘Go up and bring some dry clothes down here.’
That jerked her out of her doze. Blinking up at him in the shadowy, dancing light of the fire, she asked sleepily, ‘Whatever for?’
His voice was very patient. ‘To put on. You need to get dry. Quickly.’
Down here? With him in the kitchen? All of a sudden she was wide awake.
‘I’ll…I’ll change upstairs.’ No doubt he was quite harmless, but still…she couldn’t possibly change down here, even if he turned his back, blindfolded himself and shut his eyes.
‘There’s a fire down here,’ he growled.
‘And so are you,’ she countered. ‘I’ll change in my bedchamber!’
He stared at her. ‘For God’s sake, girl! You can’t possibly imagine that I’d take advantage of you!’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘Of course not! It’s just that…well, I’d rather change up there.’
A sudden grin lightened his rather harsh features. ‘He used to say you were a stubborn little thing. Like your mother, he claimed. Very well, quickly then. I don’t want you catching your death of cold.’
Verity fled before he could change his mind.
By the time she slipped into the kitchen, safely clad in her warmest underwear and a thick nightgown, the major appeared to be foraging in the kitchen cupboards. She sat down by the fire to watch.
He seemed quite at home in a kitchen, finding everything with easy competence as though he were used to looking after himself. Finally he came back with the results of his raid. A hunk of cheese, the end of a loaf of bread and two apples on a chipped earthenware plate. ‘Is this all?’ he asked. ‘It’s not nearly enough.’
She felt heat mantle her cheeks again. ‘I’m sorry. I ate the rest for supper. If I’d known you were coming…’ She’d intended this lot for breakfast, but after what he had done, he was welcome to anything she had.
He blinked and put the plate on her lap. ‘It’s for you! Not me!’
Shaken, she stared at the food. When had anyone last worried about what she ate? She didn’t want to look too closely at the answer.
Her stomach protested at the thought of food, but she forced herself to eat, conscious of Max leaning against the chimney the whole time watching her. She found herself much warmer at the end of the scanty repast.
‘You need a good night’s sleep,’ he said abruptly when she had finished eating. ‘I’ve put a brick to warm in the fire. Take it up with you. Do you feel all right? Not cold any more?’
She nodded as she stood up. It wasn’t quite a lie. She felt a great deal better than she had a few hours earlier.
‘Very well. Off you go.’
‘Good…goodnight, Max and…and thank you.’ Her voice wobbled hopelessly and she shut her eyes to force back the tears. A powerful arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her close for a hug. She felt the brief pressure of his lips on her hair and turned in his embrace, hugging him hard.
‘I did little enough. Goodnight, sweetheart. Don’t forget that brick.’ He released her and gave her a little push in the direction of the fire.
As she knelt to wrap the brick in the flannels her competent champion had put ready, she looked up. ‘Shall I see you again?’
His mouth tightened. ‘Better not, little one. There’s nothing I can offer you. I can assure you that your uncle wouldn’t approve of me in the least. Go on. Off with you. I’ll sit here for a while to warm up, if you don’t mind.’ He sat down in the chair she had vacated.
‘N…no. That’s quite all right. But wouldn’t you be warmer at the inn?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, no. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, reluctantly. She backed to the door, unwilling to lose the sight of him before she had to. He glanced up at her and smiled as she reached the door. The smile softened the harsh lines of his face, melting her heart.
Max sat staring into the fire, hating himself. What a hellish mess. He’d been too damned late. If only he’d known earlier the pass Scott had come to—surely he could have done something. His heart ached at the plight of the lonely child upstairs. At least an uncle was coming for her. She had a family to take her in. Although
