a promise.
Her curiosity was too great. “What brings you this far from home, then?”
Ike rubbed the back of his neck. His buoyant, confident expression waned, and a quick glance toward Alice tempered his jolly personality all the more. “We left Cornwall thinking we could work our own piece. But word on the Cape Town schooner is that the claims are all consolidated now.”
Alice rubbed his shoulder. “He’s skilled, my lady. And educated. No matter the outcome, Ike will see us through.”
“Oh?” Viv smiled. “What sort of background? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“I know rocks and the like—assaying. I graduated from the Miners’ Association school in Camborne.”
Footfalls behind Viv caught their attention. Both Ike and Alice squinted up to face the approaching man.
“Penberthy, how many dead from this wagon?” Miles asked.
Viv arose with some semblance of grace, even though her muscles had stiffened with fatigue. Never had she seen him look so capable and electric. His sun-touched brown hair had been coated with pale dust, but his face was freshly scrubbed.
“Only one,” Ike said. “The others have already collected his body. A lad of seventeen, down from Glasgow way. Dead now.”
Miles took her elbow, offering silent, unexpected support upon hearing such news. The sarcastic comment or lewd expression she’d learned to expect throughout their marriage never came. That was nearly enough to unbalance her anew.
“Help me up, Alice.” Ike waved away her protests. “This is the man who made it happen, and I’ll stand to greet him properly.”
“Nonsense,” Miles said. “Hanford Wilkes was in charge here. I merely found him a few more able soldiers.”
Viv made the introductions. She couldn’t help butadmire how Miles’s firm handshake and relaxed charm seemed to instantly earn the man’s respect. It shone on Ike’s face, bright as a lamp.
“You’d better get that tended to,” Ike said.
Miles glanced down at his collarbone. Then at Viv. “I intend to.”
She tried for a noncommittal smile, despite shivering at the thought of touching this new, more primal version of the man she knew all too well. However, she was not convinced she was out of danger—at the way station or with Miles. “But what happens now? Is there room enough for everyone to continue on?”
“Wilkes sent a runner back to Beaufort,” Miles said. “Additional stagecoaches will arrive later this evening, if we’re lucky. Maybe even a military escort.”
“Then why weren’t we escorted in the first place?” Alice’s pinched mouth revealed her displeasure even more eloquently than her words.
“An astute question, Mrs. Penberthy.” Miles appeared tired, his customary grin forced. “One that I’ll be sure to ask people more sensible than myself. Now, if you’ll excuse us. A man wounded in pitched battle deserves the tender mercies of his wife.”
Five
M iles walked Viv toward the bluff where she had first spotted the incoming raiders. She carried bandages and a skein of water, collected after having checked on her maid.
The sun would not set for another few hours, as the long, long summer day dragged toward twilight. Deep orange burnished her flawless skin and turned wheat-blonde strands of hair the color of bronze. She must’ve scrounged some manner of toiletries because her face was clean and her hair had been wetted, combed, and fashioned into a simple bun at the base of her neck.
Without a word, her hands steady, she sat facing Miles on the bluff and began to dress his gash—as if they hadn’t kissed earlier that afternoon. As if tending wounds constituted part of her duties as a viscountess. A little crease tucked between her brows as she concentrated. He could almost believe she was as cool as she appeared, when he needed her to be otherwise.
Only problem was his fatigue. The skirmish had takena hideous toll on him, though he didn’t know why. Mortal danger, maybe? Was
Her curiosity was too great. “What brings you this far from home, then?”
Ike rubbed the back of his neck. His buoyant, confident expression waned, and a quick glance toward Alice tempered his jolly personality all the more. “We left Cornwall thinking we could work our own piece. But word on the Cape Town schooner is that the claims are all consolidated now.”
Alice rubbed his shoulder. “He’s skilled, my lady. And educated. No matter the outcome, Ike will see us through.”
“Oh?” Viv smiled. “What sort of background? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“I know rocks and the like—assaying. I graduated from the Miners’ Association school in Camborne.”
Footfalls behind Viv caught their attention. Both Ike and Alice squinted up to face the approaching man.
“Penberthy, how many dead from this wagon?” Miles asked.
Viv arose with some semblance of grace, even though her muscles had stiffened with fatigue. Never had she seen him look so capable and electric. His sun-touched brown hair had been coated with pale dust, but his face was freshly scrubbed.
“Only one,” Ike said. “The others have already collected his body. A lad of seventeen, down from Glasgow way. Dead now.”
Miles took her elbow, offering silent, unexpected support upon hearing such news. The sarcastic comment or lewd expression she’d learned to expect throughout their marriage never came. That was nearly enough to unbalance her anew.
“Help me up, Alice.” Ike waved away her protests. “This is the man who made it happen, and I’ll stand to greet him properly.”
“Nonsense,” Miles said. “Hanford Wilkes was in charge here. I merely found him a few more able soldiers.”
Viv made the introductions. She couldn’t help butadmire how Miles’s firm handshake and relaxed charm seemed to instantly earn the man’s respect. It shone on Ike’s face, bright as a lamp.
“You’d better get that tended to,” Ike said.
Miles glanced down at his collarbone. Then at Viv. “I intend to.”
She tried for a noncommittal smile, despite shivering at the thought of touching this new, more primal version of the man she knew all too well. However, she was not convinced she was out of danger—at the way station or with Miles. “But what happens now? Is there room enough for everyone to continue on?”
“Wilkes sent a runner back to Beaufort,” Miles said. “Additional stagecoaches will arrive later this evening, if we’re lucky. Maybe even a military escort.”
“Then why weren’t we escorted in the first place?” Alice’s pinched mouth revealed her displeasure even more eloquently than her words.
“An astute question, Mrs. Penberthy.” Miles appeared tired, his customary grin forced. “One that I’ll be sure to ask people more sensible than myself. Now, if you’ll excuse us. A man wounded in pitched battle deserves the tender mercies of his wife.”
Five
M iles walked Viv toward the bluff where she had first spotted the incoming raiders. She carried bandages and a skein of water, collected after having checked on her maid.
The sun would not set for another few hours, as the long, long summer day dragged toward twilight. Deep orange burnished her flawless skin and turned wheat-blonde strands of hair the color of bronze. She must’ve scrounged some manner of toiletries because her face was clean and her hair had been wetted, combed, and fashioned into a simple bun at the base of her neck.
Without a word, her hands steady, she sat facing Miles on the bluff and began to dress his gash—as if they hadn’t kissed earlier that afternoon. As if tending wounds constituted part of her duties as a viscountess. A little crease tucked between her brows as she concentrated. He could almost believe she was as cool as she appeared, when he needed her to be otherwise.
Only problem was his fatigue. The skirmish had takena hideous toll on him, though he didn’t know why. Mortal danger, maybe? Was
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