fear was persuading her to believe such absolute nonsense? There was something … there simply had to be! And he was determined to discover precisely what that something was.
Deciding not to press her for an explanation quite yet, and thereby risk damaging the rather sweet rapport which had surprisingly developed between them, he changed the subject the instant she returned by remarking that he was relieved to see that the sight of blood didn’t turn her queasy. ‘Not that I’m unduly surprised,’ he added, bestowing a look of the utmost respect upon her, as she began to dab at the slight wound with the handkerchief which she had soaked in the clear waters of the stream. ‘Any young woman who possesses the courage to do what you did back there in that village isn’t likely to flinch at the sight of a little blood.’
She cast him a distinctly rueful smile. ‘You may as well know now that I have been cursed with an appalling temper, Major. I’ve learned to control it over the years … well, at least for the most part,’ she added, incurably truthful. ‘But the sight of those four men setting about you made me fume. Damnable cowards!’
‘And you came to my aid without any thought for your own safety,’ he murmured, experiencing a wealth of oddly contrasting emotions which left him not quite knowing whether he wished to kiss or shake her for doing such a foolhardy yet courageous thing. ‘Wellington could have done with you out in the Peninsula, my girl. Who did you say taught you to handle firearms, by the way?’
‘My father,’ she reminded him, before asking if he had a handkerchief about his person.
He delved into the pocket of his breeches and drew out a square of linen, which she promptly pressed over the cleaned wound. ‘You’re a damned fine shot. You’d have made an excellent rifleman had you been a boy.’
This time he didn’t miss the faintly sheepish expression, and was puzzled by it until she announced, ‘It’s no good. My conscience simply won’t permit me to allow you to continue to view me as some sort of wonder woman. I’ve discovered today that I’m not that good a shot.’
He raised his brows at this. ‘You managed to down that rogue who was doing his level best to get away,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes, and no,’ she responded, confounding him still further, before once again casting him a glance from beneath long lashes. ‘Did you not notice the inn sign lying in the road?’
‘I noticed something, certainly.’
Katherine decided to confess before she had a chance to change her mind. ‘Well, the truth of the matter is … I hit the sign, shattering its hinge, and the sign hit him, plump on the head.’
For several moments Daniel regarded her in silence, then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. The woodland area surrounding them resounded with the infectious sound, and Katherine found it impossible not to laugh herself.
‘It isn’t that funny!’ she chided gently, regaining control first. ‘I was mortified, I can tell you, when I saw that dratted sign fall. My aim has never been so awry before.’
‘I doubt anyone would have stood the remotest chance of hitting his mark with that monstrous weapon,’ he assured her, as she rose to her feet and blithely tore a strip off the bottom of her underskirt.
The sight of a neatly turned ankle, swiftly followed by the renewed touch of those gentle fingers on his arm, as she deftly wound the strip of material over his handkerchief, certainly put a further strain on his self-control. Desperate to turn his thoughts in a new direction, he searched about for something, anything, that might take his mind off earthy masculine desires, and his gaze swiftly fell upon her bloodstained handkerchief, lying on the ground.
Reaching for it, and earning himself a stern reprimand in the process for not sitting still, he studied the beautifully embroidered monogram in one corner. ‘Is this your stitch-work, Katherine?’
‘No. Bridie embroidered it. She was my nursemaid when I was a child,’ she explained when he raised an enquiring brow. ‘Now she’s my personal maid … housekeeper … you name it.’
‘What does the “F” stand for?’
A moment’s silence, then, ‘Fairchild.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve Bridie to thank for that too!’ she informed him, her disgruntled tone evidence enough that she wasn’t best pleased. ‘Apparently she took one look at me and announced that I was the fairest child she’d ever set eyes on. My mother, much struck by this, as it happened to be her maiden name, decided it would be most appropriate, and as Papa had chosen my Christian name he allowed her to have her way.’
‘Fairchild,’ he echoed. ‘Yes, it suits you. It suits you very well.’
Half-suspecting him of mockery, Katherine paused in her tying of the makeshift bandage to cast him a suspicious glance. ‘There, that should hold,’ she announced, reaching for his shirt. ‘Hurry and get dressed. I don’t want you taking a chill on top of everything else.’
The garment was stained with blood, but he had no choice but to put it back on. Neither of them had a change of clothes, which, Katherine mused, didn’t appear to trouble Daniel to any great extent; but she knew it would begin to irk her unbearably if she was forced to remain in the same garments for any length of time. She wasn’t accustomed to going without meals either. Not a morsel of food had passed her lips since the previous evening, and she was now beginning to feel decidedly peckish.
Refraining from bringing this to his attention, she merely seated herself on the fallen tree. Despite the fact that Daniel’s injury was, as he had stated himself, only slight, and she didn’t suppose any complications would arise as a result of it, he was still looking slightly flushed, so it could do no harm to let him rest for a while.
Evidently he was of a similar mind, for he made himself more comfortable, and very soon afterwards closed his eyes. Katherine sat quietly beside him for a while, content to gaze at their pretty surroundings, which were thankfully betraying clear signs that spring had arrived. Then her stomach elected to remind her quite noisily that she required something to eat, and she decided it was time to do something about it.
Chapter Eight
The glade was pleasantly sheltered from the gusty wind that earlier had gathered strength across the open countryside, hindering their flight from the village. The March sun too was surprisingly warm, and Daniel had found little difficulty in dozing. The slight dizziness that had induced him to rest for a while seemed mercifully to have passed, and he was sufficiently restored now to recommence their cross-country trek to Normandy.
He turned his head, expecting to see his darling companion once again sitting on the trunk of the tree beside him, and was faintly surprised to discover no sign of her. Earlier, when a slight sound had disturbed him, he had opened one eye to catch her slipping quietly away. He had resisted the temptation to call out and ask where she was going. She might be a damnably brave little soul to have come to his aid, he reflected, but he suspected that, for all her innate courage, she would find it acutely embarrassing to admit that she was forced to answer a call of nature.
Women! Smiling to himself, he shook his head. He would never understand them. A jumbled mass of contradictions was what they were. At least, he silently amended, that red-haired little darling most certainly was. One moment snapping a fellow’s nose off for absolutely no reason; the next a ministering angel, touchingly concerned and tending to his every need. Yet, for all her contrariness, he could think of no other female of his acquaintance whom he would prefer to have with him on this assignment. Come
