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“I should be glad to partake. I am famished.”
The stare he next shot to Higley had implied commands welded so thick even Hannah straightened.
Higley inclined his head, no pretended civility in his manner when he met his superior’s gaze. “I shall see to my assignments in town, sir.”
The kind stranger rested his gaze on her, and the need to cry out for him to stay bulged in her throat. She didn’t know him, but the worthiness she sensed from his kind eyes made her wish beyond hope he wouldn’t leave her with Stockton.
But he did. Another rise of his lips and he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Stockton neared, stalking more than walking toward her. He glanced past her shoulder toward the kitchen before once again clutching her with his eyes. “You will joi
n me, I hope.”
“Me?” The word squeaked from her throat. She pressed her hands to her stomach. “I fear I haven’t any appetite.” Nothing had ever been more true.
“Have you not?” Stockton strode to the kitchen and fingered a piece of bacon. “Higley will be here most days, as will Greene.” He faced her. “If ever you need anything from them, do not hesitate to ask. They are under strict command to be accommodating to you.”
“How generous indeed.” She rounded the table to fuss with the pudding that waited like a patient child. Moving it aside, she motioned to a mostly cleared spot. “I fear our table is a mite small compared to what you are used to, but I think there is enough room for you to—”
“This is perfect, my dear. You are perfect.”
A flare of attraction brightened the gray of his eyes, and a gag lurched at her throat.
She coughed to ease the discomfort. “Where is Greene this morning? Is he not with you?”
“He is on assignment, as is Higley.” He rounded his chair but didn’t sit. “A pleasant opportunity for you and me to become more agreeably acquainted.”
All she could manage in response was a forced grin and tilt of her head. Anything else, and she might have lost what little she had in her stomach. Busying herself with preparing him a plate, she ventured an attempt at trivial conversation.
“Your men stay very busy.”
“Aye.” He smiled in gratitude as she rested the laden plate before him.
She turned to get him something to drink, hoping he would sit, but he did not. “Brave too. I have heard tell of the Patriots doing dreadful things.”
“They are fools and will soon be made to suffer for their transgressions.”
Her heart thrashed wildly behind her ribs as she rested the cup of milk beside the plate. What would he do if he knew why she was really here?
In a swift motion he took her hand in his. “I see you blush, my dear. Forgive me. I suppose I should refrain from mentioning such matters.”
“No, indeed, sir.” Careful not to reveal how his touch discomfited, she tugged her hand away. “I find such things most fascinating.” She paused, her next words scrolling through her mind so bright she could not help but speak them. “In truth, I wish I could do more to help the king in this valiant effort. If only I could…”
Stockton tilted his head, his gravelly timbre deep. “You would do such a thing?”
“Aye.” She fussed again with the pudding. “The longer this conflict continues, the more pain for all of us.”
“You are a woman with wisdom beyond her years, Miss Young.” Stockton stepped directly beside her. “An attractive quality.”
The compliment stuck to her skin like a hungry leech, and she hadn’t time to yank it free before he started again.
“There is something you can do, if you earnestly wish to be of service to your king.”
She stilled, her stomach in her throat. What did he mean? Fear tugged at her lips, frantic to keep them closed, but curiosity opened them. “What is that?”
Stockton moved so near she could feel the warmth of his body behind hers. “I am in need of a scribe. Someone to help me pen messages to my fellow officers.”
“A scribe?” She turned and ducked away, moving backward around the table. “I am honored sir, but would such a thing be most proper?”
