appear to affect her ability to conduct herself professionally.
The Colonel read it in silence, then stretched out his hand for the envelope. Again, she found herself automatically handing it to him. He studied the return address. “I would guess this is a half-day's drive from here,” he said, considering her. “We'll go tomorrow.”
She looked at him, stunned. “Wh-what?”
He nodded definitively. “We'll go and get your furniture and ponies and bring them here.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over before she could stop them. She dashed at them with the back of her hand, completely overcome. “Colonel Watson—” she brushed at her tears again and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sir,” she managed.
“It is nothing,” he said dismissively. “Let's eat, shall we?” he said, waving to the table.
The following day, true to his word, he called for the carriage as well as an empty wagon, hitched to a second team of horses. They set off, the two of them alone together on the journey to the home that was no longer hers. It did cross her mind that it was unseemly for her to travel unchaperoned with the Colonel, but then she immediately dismissed the thought. He was nothing if not of the utmost propriety, and there was the driver of both the carriage and the wagon attending them, so she was not truly alone with the man.
A variety of thoughts flitted through her head as they sat silently in the carriage. She remembered vividly the fateful carriage ride she'd first shared with the Colonel—the one which had nearly ended in disaster. He'd not said more than a word or two on that ride, either. She hadn't liked him when he'd joined their carriage. He had seemed so very stuffy and formal and the atmosphere in the carriage had quickly become stifling.
But then he had been so very capable during the emergency, whilst she had acted like a little fool, drinking brandy and letting her tongue fly loosely. How different he seemed to her now that she knew him. She could see the kindness underneath the stern exterior, though in retrospect, she should have seen it that night, too.
She considered the way he had wiped clear the debt of the advance she'd taken to visit her mother, how he'd come to collect her in the rain, and now this favor, which was overwhelming, really. He was giving her the day off, taking the trouble to personally escort her, providing his carriage and wagon, and offering to keep her furniture and ponies indefinitely. It was truly more than generous. It actually made her uncomfortable to think of him in this light. She'd preferred disliking him as the rigid military man who'd punished her at the end of a leather strap.
She studied the planes of his handsome face. He had a large, square jaw that seemed to go perfectly with his tall, imposing frame. His eyes were dark, the same brown as his hair, which was generally well-kept.
He glanced up and caught her staring. Her breath hitched in her throat and she could not seem to make herself look away—as if her eyes were magnetized to his. A strand of his brown hair had fallen out of place and was hanging over one cheek and her hand actually lightened in her lap as if she were going to stroke it back. With great effort she wrenched her gaze away from his and stared out the window, praying she would not blush as she was prone to do.
They arrived at her family's former home by noon. It produced such an odd mixture of emotions to return—joy at the familiar landscape and the memories, and pain at the reminder of her father's death and the knowledge that this property would never again be hers to enjoy. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the window to find the Colonel's eyes resting on her face, with a look that vaguely resembled sympathy. She forced a bright smile. “We're here at last.”
“Indeed.” He looked out the carriage window. “No wonder you like my property so well.”
“What? Oh! Yes, the landscape is quite
The Colonel read it in silence, then stretched out his hand for the envelope. Again, she found herself automatically handing it to him. He studied the return address. “I would guess this is a half-day's drive from here,” he said, considering her. “We'll go tomorrow.”
She looked at him, stunned. “Wh-what?”
He nodded definitively. “We'll go and get your furniture and ponies and bring them here.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over before she could stop them. She dashed at them with the back of her hand, completely overcome. “Colonel Watson—” she brushed at her tears again and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sir,” she managed.
“It is nothing,” he said dismissively. “Let's eat, shall we?” he said, waving to the table.
The following day, true to his word, he called for the carriage as well as an empty wagon, hitched to a second team of horses. They set off, the two of them alone together on the journey to the home that was no longer hers. It did cross her mind that it was unseemly for her to travel unchaperoned with the Colonel, but then she immediately dismissed the thought. He was nothing if not of the utmost propriety, and there was the driver of both the carriage and the wagon attending them, so she was not truly alone with the man.
A variety of thoughts flitted through her head as they sat silently in the carriage. She remembered vividly the fateful carriage ride she'd first shared with the Colonel—the one which had nearly ended in disaster. He'd not said more than a word or two on that ride, either. She hadn't liked him when he'd joined their carriage. He had seemed so very stuffy and formal and the atmosphere in the carriage had quickly become stifling.
But then he had been so very capable during the emergency, whilst she had acted like a little fool, drinking brandy and letting her tongue fly loosely. How different he seemed to her now that she knew him. She could see the kindness underneath the stern exterior, though in retrospect, she should have seen it that night, too.
She considered the way he had wiped clear the debt of the advance she'd taken to visit her mother, how he'd come to collect her in the rain, and now this favor, which was overwhelming, really. He was giving her the day off, taking the trouble to personally escort her, providing his carriage and wagon, and offering to keep her furniture and ponies indefinitely. It was truly more than generous. It actually made her uncomfortable to think of him in this light. She'd preferred disliking him as the rigid military man who'd punished her at the end of a leather strap.
She studied the planes of his handsome face. He had a large, square jaw that seemed to go perfectly with his tall, imposing frame. His eyes were dark, the same brown as his hair, which was generally well-kept.
He glanced up and caught her staring. Her breath hitched in her throat and she could not seem to make herself look away—as if her eyes were magnetized to his. A strand of his brown hair had fallen out of place and was hanging over one cheek and her hand actually lightened in her lap as if she were going to stroke it back. With great effort she wrenched her gaze away from his and stared out the window, praying she would not blush as she was prone to do.
They arrived at her family's former home by noon. It produced such an odd mixture of emotions to return—joy at the familiar landscape and the memories, and pain at the reminder of her father's death and the knowledge that this property would never again be hers to enjoy. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the window to find the Colonel's eyes resting on her face, with a look that vaguely resembled sympathy. She forced a bright smile. “We're here at last.”
“Indeed.” He looked out the carriage window. “No wonder you like my property so well.”
“What? Oh! Yes, the landscape is quite
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