Noah Lawson leaned on the back of a cart and studied the woman who called herself Elise DeVries, trying not to appear as if he was doing so.
He’d been driving with John and Sarah, almost at the foot of the bridge, when he had heard the shriek and the splash. With stunned disbelief he’d watched as an unfamiliar lad on a rangy bay gelding had vaulted from his horse, jumped up on the low wall, and without a second’s hesitation, thrown himself off the bridge.
Except it hadn’t been a lad. It had been a woman—something he had discovered the instant he had waded into the river to help her as she struggled with the current and the weight of the boy. She’d tensed at first and then relaxed and allowed him to help her up on the bank. And after that—Noah wasn’t sure what had happened after that.
She had made a joke, he remembered, as she lay back against the thick grass, her wet clothes clinging to her body, leaving nothing to his imagination. She had curves that positively begged to be touched. Glorious breasts that her threadbare shirt couldn’t conceal. Hips that flared and framed a beautifully rounded backside that would feel decadent beneath his hands. Long legs that he instantly imagined wrapped around him. It had been almost embarrassing, his immediate carnal response to the sight of her, and he had been relieved to crouch as long as he had with her in the grass. It had taken him long minutes to get his body under control, and his wet breeches would have done absolutely nothing to hide his desire.
He’d concentrated on keeping his eyes on her face and his mind out of the gutter.
And then she’d sat up and smiled at him, and whatever physical response he’d had seemed to pale in comparison to the instant connection he’d felt deep into the very marrow of his bones. It defied reasonable explanation, but he’d forgotten to be cautious and careful. He’d forgotten to focus on his words, the way he did with people he didn’t know. He’d simply been…captivated. Completely disarmed.
She was beautiful in an unexpected way, her complexion darker than was common, with hazel eyes that danced unapologetically with humor, and thick hair the color of dark coffee that he wanted to touch, even as disheveled as it was. Within seconds he’d found himself teasing her, unable to help himself, caught in the warm rays of her smile. Feeling as if he had known her for a lifetime, instead of scant minutes. Feeling dangerously at ease.
Perhaps it was this that now, upon reflection, unsettled him. He didn’t really know who she was or where she was from. That lack of knowledge should have put him on edge. Should have sent him running as quickly as he could in the opposite direction. Except he wasn’t running. Instead he was trying desperately to figure out how he might keep this extraordinary woman close to him for just a little longer.
Perhaps because he saw in her himself as he had been years ago. One did not disguise oneself without cause. Without cause one did not react like a panicked wildcat when one’s free will was taken away, however innocently. He of all people understood that, and for some irrational reason, he wanted to assure her of it. Wanted to help her. Wanted to know her.
And then, of course, there was the fact that she had saved a boy he considered family.
John would undoubtedly thrash his son to within an inch of his life, once he stopped shaking and convinced himself that Andrew was truly fine. His wife, Sarah, hadn’t let go of Andrew, and their son’s expression ranged through excitement at the attention, embarrassment at the cause, and apprehension for the repercussions he knew were coming.
Miss DeVries, on the other hand, had fixed a pleasant smile on her face as she was interrogated by a crowd of townspeople who, alerted to the commotion, had come running. The group was dwindling now, its curiosity sated. The strange novelty that was Miss DeVries would be put away for later discussion and retellings.
Noah had hovered at first, deflecting the most brazen of the town gossips, but Elise had waved him off, advising him that she could hold her own. And she had, but now her smile was starting to fray at the edges, and Noah could recognize the signs of strain. He had felt her muscles trembling with fatigue as they climbed that damn hill, and he couldn’t imagine she had many reserves left.
As if she could read his mind, Elise turned, making her way toward him. Or, more accurately, making her way to her gelding, which was currently tied to the back of his cart.
She gave him a tired smile and went to her horse’s head. “Can you recommend an inn?” she asked wearily. “Something with a good stable and a reasonable ale? And maybe the possibility of a warm bath?”
Noah frowned at the request. After everything, it seemed unconscionable to simply send her on her way. He couldn’t send her away. Not only did that strike him as terrifically callous, he suddenly, more than anything, needed more time with this woman. The strength of that impulsive desire startled him. “You’ll sleep with me tonight,” he blurted.
Elise jerked her head up so fast that it startled the gelding. “I beg your pardon?”
Dammit, that had come out wrong. “You’ll stay with me tonight. I have a bath.”
Elise’s mouth had slackened slightly, and Noah could feel a faint heat climbing into his cheeks. Hell, that wasn’t at all what he was trying to say. He hated when this happened.
He took a deep breath and concentrated. “What I am trying to say is that I can offer you a place to stay for the night. I have a good stable for your horse and a bathtub. And dinner. I can feed you dinner.”
“Ummm.” Elise blinked at him.
“I have a housekeeper,” he hurried on before she could say no. “Cooks. She does. Very well.” He was inexplicably anxious now, afraid she would slip away from him, and his words were coming in the wrong order. “Please. Least I can do.”
Elise was shaking her head. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I must keep moving—”
“There you are.” John was hurrying toward them, Sarah on his heels.
The petite woman was paler than usual, and she went directly to Elise, clasping her hands briefly in her own. “You are our guardian angel,” she said, a slight wobble to her words. “We owe you a debt that can never be repaid.”
Elise nodded, looking a little uncomfortable under the weight of so much gratitude. “Thank you, but I am only happy that it ended well.”
“Thanks to you,” Sarah said, her grey eyes warm. “And if there is ever anything you need, anything at all, please, all you need to do is ask.”
“Thank you,” Elise said again. “But all I need is directions to an inn—”
“Never! You’ll not be staying at some flea-ridden, hole-in-the-wall inn by yourself.” Sarah sounded horrified. “You can stay with us—”
“She can stay with me,” Noah said hurriedly. “And Mrs. Pritchard. I’ve already offered.”
John and Sarah both stared at him, and Noah willed himself not to look in their direction. He knew very well why they were looking at him the way they were. This was a complete departure from his usual aversion to strangers.
“There are six children who live in your home, one of whom I think will benefit from having his family close to him tonight. Your beds are full. But I have the space. And Mrs. Pritchard will be pleased to have someone to cook for besides me.” He knew John and Sarah couldn’t argue with that logic.
Elise was shaking her head again. “While those are both generous offers, Mr. Lawson and…” She trailed off, and a faint crease appeared in her brow as she gazed at John and Sarah. “I’m sorry, I do not know how to address you.”
“Have you not introduced yourself to her?” Noah asked John with incredulity.
The bear of a man blinked at Noah and then at Elise.
“I believe you introduced yourself earlier as the father of the fool son I saved,” Elise said with a faint twitch to her lips.
“I beg your pardon.” John sounded as horrified as his wife had earlier. “John Barr at your service. And this is my wife, Sarah.” He glanced at Noah. “And I beg you to reconsider Mr. Lawson’s offer of hospitality.”
Elise had gone quite still, a peculiar expression on her face. She clasped her hands in front of her then and smiled. “Very well. I would be pleased to accept your offer, Mr. Lawson. Thank you.”
A thrill of something he couldn’t quite identify shot through Noah’s gut. He wondered briefly at her sudden change of heart but realized he didn’t really care. The idea of having this woman in his house was making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
“Splendid.” Sarah clasped her hands and turned her gaze to Miss DeVries, though every few seconds she’d glance at Noah out of the corner of her eye. “Then you simply must come to the summer ball tomorrow night. Well, we call it a ball, but it’s not so much a ball as a picnic with dancing under a large tent later,” she clarified. “You must come as our guest.”
Miss DeVries shifted. “That is a lovely offer, I’m sure, but—”
Sarah took her hand again. “Say you’ll come. Please. It would be an honor to have you there.”
Miss DeVries hesitated a second before replying. “It would be my pleasure.”
Another thrill danced along Noah’s spine.
“Thank you,” Sarah said, squeezing her hand one more time. She smiled and drifted back to where her son waited, gathering him in her arms again and pressing a kiss to his damp hair.
“Come,” Noah said to Elise, trying to sound casual. “Leave your horse tied to the back.” It was easier to concentrate on his words now. “Ride up front with me.”
Elise nodded slowly. “Yes,” was all she said, and Noah suspected she had simply run out of energy to argue. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barr.”
“And you, Miss DeVries. I look forward to seeing you again soon under more ordinary circumstances.”
She smiled tiredly at John before she headed to the front of the wagon.
“A word, Noah.” John caught him by the arm before he could follow her.
“What?” Noah turned to face him.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you talking about?” Noah frowned in confusion.
John pulled Noah back, farther away from the cart, his voice low. “Miss DeVries. Who is she?”
“What?” That made no sense. “What are you asking?”
“Why did you offer to take her back to your home?”
“Because she needs a place to stay for the night. Because she saved your son from drowning.” He knew he sounded defensive and strove to lighten his tone. “You should be kissing her feet right now.”
John raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I know. I might yet.” He smiled faintly. “I will never be able to repay that debt. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
John shuffled his feet, looking almost embarrassed. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you like this. Comfortable with anyone so quickly.”
Noah knew what John was implying. He knew that Noah avoided busy coaching inns and kept away from taverns that served the travelers who came from London and the surrounding areas. John had never asked for details, but he knew very well that whatever was in Noah’s past was meant to stay there.
And it had been fifteen years. Fifteen years since Noah Ellery had ceased to exist. Fifteen years since he had rebuilt his life as Noah Lawson.
At the very beginning, when he’d first landed on London’s streets, he’d feared men in woven smock coats armed with chains and rope would appear to drag him back to the cage he’d fled. At the beginning he’d been convinced every unfamiliar man might be a Runner, hired privately to hunt him down and arrest him. But no one had ever come. And then, when he had left London, distance accompanied by more time had dulled any lingering fear. No one had come looking for the man once known as Noah Ellery. And the notion that Elise DeVries was here in Nottingham for that reason was so patently far-fetched that it didn’t merit further consideration.
“I like her.” It sounded odd, even in his own ears. “She’s different. I just…I don’t know how to explain it.”
John gave him a long look and scratched his head as if the conundrum of a pretty woman in the front of Noah’s cart was in equal parts amusing and baffling. “I like her too, but you know nothing about her. I think you’re bewitched.”
I know she is kind. And funny. And fierce. And maybe I am bewitched.
* * *
She was watching him.
Noah could feel Elise’s eyes on him as he turned his mare in the direction of home and set it to a steady trot. He said nothing, comfortable with the silence. It was always others who struggled with the quiet, who felt compelled to fill the void with chatter, or expected him to do the same. But Elise said nothing. A mile slipped by. And still she simply watched him as he drove.
Another mile passed.
“Is there a piece of river weed in my hair?” He found the fact that it was he who spoke first vastly ironic.
“No.” If she was embarrassed to be caught studying him, she didn’t show it.
“My teeth?”
Her lips twitched. “No.”
“Are you cold?”
She made a strange sound, and he took his eyes off the rump of his mare long enough to see her bite her lower lip. “No,” she said. “No, I’m quite warm, thank you.” She gestured at his shirt still draped over her own wet clothes.
Noah nodded, returning his attention to the road. The sight of her in his shirt was stirring things in him he hadn’t experienced before. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, perhaps because they were surrounded by people, but now, on this road, alone, it made him feel…possessive. Protective. Made him remember how she had felt beneath his hands when he had drawn the linen over her head and down her body.
Made him want to know what it would feel like to take it back off. What it would be like to peel those damp layers from her skin and run his hands over every curve and—
“You should take your boots off now,” Elise said beside him.
“I beg your pardon?” He was horrified to think that the licentious direction his thoughts were headed in was so clearly apparent on his face.
“Your boots. They’re soaked. If you leave them to dry on your feet, it’ll take a team of oxen to pry them off later.”
He almost sagged in relief. But he was not taking his boots off. Or any other article of clothing. He’d borrowed the only shirt available, one that was uncomfortably small, specifically so she wouldn’t have to endure a three-mile-long cart ride next to a half-naked man. He might not be a knight, but nor was he a cretin. “I’ll take them off when we get back.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged before turning slightly to look at him again. “Thank you,” she said suddenly.
“For not taking my clothes off?” Boots. He’d meant to say for not taking his boots off. The wrong word had slipped out. He felt heat rise in his face and braced himself for a well-deserved set-down.
Elise laughed.
He turned to stare at her.
“I think, Mr. Lawson, that there were not so many women standing up on that road this afternoon who weren’t secretly delighted that you’d taken your clothes off.”
The heat that had been creeping into his face flamed. He looked away, unsure what to say.
“You are a very handsome man, Mr. Lawson,” Elise continued beside him, sounding vastly amused. “And while a proper lady would pretend otherwise, and certainly never be so uncouth as to mention it in conversation, I find ignoring the truth a rather pointless endeavor.”
Noah didn’t know what to do with this woman who had taken his blunder and turned it into an unexpected compliment. “Thank you?” he tried.
“You’re very welcome,” she said with satisfaction.
“But you are very much a lady,” he protested, shifting uncomfortably.
“Kind of you to say so to a woman wearing wet trousers.” She grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in unrestrained humor.
In a heartbeat Noah found the air squeezed from his lungs. God, she was beautiful. Even with her hair drying into a matted cloud of rich brown waves and a streak of mud at her temple, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Have I embarrassed you?” she asked.
“No.”
Her eyes danced.
“Maybe a little,” he admitted.
“Again, I fear I cannot apologize for the truth.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he found himself smiling back, caught in her contagious happiness. He heard her draw a sharp breath, and she looked away.
“What I had wanted to thank you for was your help at the river.” She was looking into the distance somewhere over the rump of his mare now. “I’m glad you waded in when you did.”
Noah felt the edges of the leather ribbons cut into his palms as he tightened his hands around them. In hindsight, that he had waded in at all shocked him. He hated the river and its dark, cold water. Though he hadn’t been thinking about the water when he had seen her struggling with the boy. Old memories surfaced, bringing with them the ugliness that accompanied them every time. “Yes.” It was a poor reply but it was all he trusted himself to say.
She nodded slightly and tucked a rebellious curl behind her ear, seemingly finding nothing odd about his response.
“London from?” he blurted, meaning to redeem himself, but not finding the right words. Are you from London? he had wanted to ask, before the dark memories had needled their way into his consciousness and made it hard to concentrate.
“I am,” Elise replied. “And I must confess it was good to get out of the city. Some days the stench in the summer is enough to fell a horse.”
Noah stared straight ahead, unwilling to believe that she could or would simply ignore or accept his bizarre speech. Again. She must think him a half-wit.
She twisted in her seat, pulling the wet fabric from her legs with an absent look of annoyance. “Have you been there?” she asked. “To London in the summer?”
Yes. He shuddered. He remembered very clearly what London in the summer was like. And what London in the winter was like. And the seasons in between. “No.”
“Well,” she said, flapping her arms in an apparent effort to dry herself faster, “you’re not missing much.”
Noah watched her out of the corner of his eye. The thought struck him that, in his billowing shirt, she looked like an oversize stork trying to take flight, and he suddenly found himself smiling, the ugly memories receding as quickly as they had surged.
“You’re laughing at me again,” she commented wryly.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest, Mr. Lawson.”
His smile slipped. He wasn’t honest about anything. He hadn’t been honest about anything in well over a decade. And he found himself wishing he could be. Just for one moment, he wanted to tell this woman something about himself that was true. “I mix up my words,” he said suddenly. There. He was honest about that.
Her flapping stopped, and she peered at him, a faint crease in her forehead. “So?”
“So?” he repeated.
She turned her palms up. “So?”
Noah wasn’t sure what to say. Absent were the pity and the suspicion and the distaste he usually encountered when others became aware of his difficulty. “Does that not bother you?”
“I can’t sing,” she mused.
“You can’t sing?” He was confused. What did that have to do with—
“Does that not bother you?”
He blinked at her. “What?”
“I can’t tolerate being restrained, but you know that already. I cannot abide rats, and when I’m angry, I tend to curse. Very offensively, I might add. In French.”
Noah was aware his jaw had slackened.
“Anything else?” Elise was wrestling with her thick hair now, trying valiantly to twist it back into a braid.
“What?” Well, if she hadn’t thought him a half-wit before, she would now.
She gave up on her hair with a sigh. “I thought we were comparing our shortcomings. Or at least our shortcomings as others may view them.”
“Um.”
“Do you want me to think of some more?” She cocked her head and started counting on her fingers. “I’m not a proper lady, but that is probably obvious since I’m wearing trousers. I don’t let anyone handle my rifle—”
“Your rifle?” Noah wasn’t sure where and when this conversation had gone so completely sideways. “You have a rifle?”
She gave him a strange look. “It’s strapped to my horse. It’s not exactly small. I would have thought you’d have noticed it.”
“Why do you have a rifle?”
“I would expect for the reason most people have a rifle,” she answered, not answering him at all.
Noah remembered the long bundle wrapped in oiled cloth. “I thought that was tent poles. Or something.” In truth he hadn’t thought much about the contents at all.
“Tent poles.” She chuckled. “You’re very funny, Mr. Lawson.” She shook her head and considered the next finger on the hand that she was counting on. “Now let’s see. I’ve been told I sometimes snore when I sleep—”
“Stop,” Noah managed. “This is not what I intended at all.” He’d not intended this comparison of supposed failings, this absurd discussion of things that were irrelevant. These…shortcomings she seemed to think she had were not shortcomings. They were things that made her one of the most intriguing people he had ever met.
Elise met his eyes. “I don’t really care that you can’t find the right words all the time, Mr. Lawson. But I will care if you touch my rifle without asking.”
A bubble of something unfamiliar was rising in his chest, compressing and squeezing his heart. Something that was flooding through his veins, something reckless and wild that made him want to abandon all caution. It was all he could do not to touch her. Not to bury his hands in her mud-streaked curls and kiss her senseless. He had never met anyone like her. He was terrified that he never would again. “Fair enough,” he managed.
“Glad we got that out of the way.” She leaned back, wincing as the cart hit a hole in the road. “Who is John Barr?”
Noah took a deep breath, trying to find his equilibrium again. “John? He’s a smith. And one of the best. Nothing he can’t fix. Ploughs, weapons. He’ll shoe your gelding for you too, if you need. He’s a fair hand with even the most fractious of horses.”
Elise was shaking her head. “No, I mean, who is John to you? You said his son was like family. Are you related?”
It was a completely reasonable question. He answered carefully. “He is my family. Not by blood, but family all the same.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.
“Ah.” There was understanding in that single syllable.
“Do you have family?”
Her hazel eyes were on him again. “I do. A brother by blood. And a sister. Not by blood, but family all the same.”
He found himself smiling along with her.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” she inquired.
His smile evaporated. “No.” It was the immediate, safe response, but memories of Abigail’s gentle eyes and her fearless heart flooded his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Elise said from beside him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
Jesus, had he been that transparent? “I had a sister once,” he found himself admitting. And then he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.
“What was her name?” she asked.
“Abby,” he said, realizing that he hadn’t spoken his sister’s name out loud in over a decade. “Her name was Abby.” He felt Elise’s hand on his arm, a light, fleeting touch. She looked as though she wanted to ask him another question, but then reconsidered.
Bloody hell, it was just as well that they were almost home. Another mile in this cart and he’d be confessing every deep, dark secret about his past to a woman he barely knew. It was terrifying, how easily small truths slipped out of him in her presence.
“We’re almost there.” He turned his mare down the familiar lane that wound through a copse of trees.
Elise wriggled again, presumably against the discomfort of her wet clothes. “Thank goodness.”
A sentiment he shared wholeheartedly.