A frown creased her brow. “That big man who took me. That was him?” Her jaw firmed. “His speech was distinctive—not of a higher class, but not as broad as the men who rowed us back. If he’s here, when I hear him speak, I’ll recognize him. Is it Scruggs, do you think?”
“No. I’ve met Scruggs.”
“Are there any other men his size in the area?”
“There were a few at the inn. Likely the man’s from farther south, around Scarborough or beyond.” He took a step closer and tugged at her neck scarf. “When he did this to you, I was on the slope, listening. When I figured out what I was hearing, I managed to almost fall down the cliff trying to get to you.”
“The rock slide.”
“Yes.”
Her gaze searched his face. “So, you did save me.”
“And I was a while righting myself and heading in the wrong direction. I should have—”
“No. No, Fox. Just you and an unarmed woman and child against three hardened men?”
“I could have taken them.”
She lifted his hands, kissed the knuckles, and dropped them. “What do we do next?”
The question was matter-of-fact. She shook herself loose, picked up a knife and sliced pieces of cheese.
This was where a sensible man would say,We pack you up, Lady Perpetua, and send you home.
A slice of cheese plopped onto his toast. He sat, pulled the plate over, and yanked her down onto his lap. “Now we eat.” He took a bite while she squirmed, letting his free hand slide along her waist, seeing the muscles play under her fair skin. Perhaps a barium white pigment, with a faint wash of sepia. He would have to experiment to achieve the shadows and planes of her satiny flesh.
She gripped the edge of the table. “Fox.”
“Very well. We eat, and then we wait for MacEwen to report back.” He held the toast up to her mouth. She took a bite, chewing slowly, keeping her gaze locked on him.
And he had an idea what they could do after that.
He shook off the images. He wouldn’t dishonor her. He should set her off onto another chair, but they were both fully clothed, and feeding her had its own satisfaction. She ate with the same relish she’d displayed up in bed.
He wiped his face and pulled the tray with the tea setup over, pouring, and mixing all with one hand.
“Thank you.” She accepted the cup like an earl’s daughter taking tea in a Mayfair drawing room.
Reminding him again, she was too far above him.
A smile lit her face and struck a spark of hope within him. By some miracle, might he gain Shaldon’s approval? And if he did, could he ever make her happy.
When Perry’s chewing stopped,Fox pushed more food at her. This business of him feeding her was annoying, but also rather endearing. Still, she began taking smaller bites, chewing more slowly, listening to a disconcerting story of frustration and danger.
After Bakeley’s wedding ball, her father had set Fox on the scent of Carvelle, a quest that had taken him to Holland, across the Low Countries, and back again to Gorse Cottage. In his time on the Yorkshire coast, Fox had acquainted himself with most of the smuggling paths in the district and many of the players from Clampton, including the corrupt Riding Officer and the maid from the Red Lion, who Scruggs used to control the officer and other strangers.
Fox had not spared her delicate sensibilities. Her heart swelled with that, and then quickly collapsed under a niggling suspicion.
“Fox.Youwere a stranger here.”
His hand flattened along her back and stroked up and down. “I’ve no interest in her wares, nor did I partake of them.”
It was cunningly done, that stroking and distracting. He might be telling the truth. She scrubbed a hand along his jaw, looking deeply. “I’ve heard that men often lie about such things. But perhaps I’ll choose to believe you.”
“I’m glad, because it’s the truth.”
He went on with the story. After Carvelle’s embarkation the previous night, they’d lost sight of the man, and MacEwen’s eavesdropping on Carvelle’s conversation with Scruggs had yielded no news.
