“This isn’t a good idea. Please. Stop this folly, Captain Langley. Stop the carriage and allow me to go to Ireland like I’d planned.”
Will glanced at the boy. His head rested against the back cushion, and he was still gazing outside, but his eyes were half closed. He was nearly asleep.
He turned back to Meg. “Call me Will,” he murmured. “Like you did before.”
She tore her gaze away from him. A blush crept across her cheeks. He wanted to touch her, to kiss away that warmth there. God, she was beautiful. Even more so than she’d been years ago. He’d thought her the most beautiful woman in the world then, but now… He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about her. Everything, from her goldcurls and the smattering of freckles across her nose, to her gray eyes and slender but curvaceous form, appealed to him.
He’d grant her anything. Anything but what she’d just requested.
“I’m not stopping this carriage. You need your family, and they need you.” He leaned forward, and his voice was firm, filled with the confidence that he wouldn’t fail her this time. “I know you’re afraid. But I’ll protect you. I promise.”
She closed her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
He fought off the annoyance that filled him at those words, and his voice was calm, matter-of-fact, when he said, “That’s because you’ve explained very little to me.”
“Please know that that’s for your protection. I promise you. Please trust me.”
Such anguish glowed in her eyes that his anger drained away instantly. “I do trust you, Meg,” he said softly. “The problem is, I don’t believe you trust me.”
Will was right. She didn’t trust him. Through no fault of his own—he was the strongest, most steadfast man she’d ever known. But she’d spent so many years trusting only herself, Jake, and Sarah, that she’d forgotten how to let anyone else in. She’d forgotten how to trust. It wasn’t as simple as just opening up to him, either. She just might do that if she didn’t have Jake to worry about.
Will cleared his throat, and when she glanced at him, he said, “There’s something else…”
The obvious distress in his expression turned her blood cold. “I thought learning that my sister had stolen my identity would be enough for one day.”
His brows rose at the cynical tone of her voice. She’d surprised him—the side of her that was a cynic hadn’t existed back when he’d known her.
“It can wait,” he murmured, “but not for very long. It’s best I tell you this before we arrive in London. I’d prefer you hear it from me rather than…” His voice faded, and he glanced at Jake. Meg looked toward the little boy. His head had lolled forward uncomfortably. She plumped one of the carriage pillows on her lap, took Jake into her arms, and laid his head onto it.
The boy shifted, and his eyes fluttered open, but she murmured to him, “Sleep, dearest,” and gently combed her fingers through his hair. Soon he drifted off again.
“You care for him,” Will observed quietly.
“He is everything to me.” Meg looked down at Jake, and love for him surged through her. He was so innocent, despite all the horror he’d experienced in his short life. And while most people thought him an idiot, Meg knew the opposite was true. She hadn’t known many children other than her younger sisters years ago, but in many ways his mind was more advanced than other children of his age. Surely few six-year-olds could work the difficult mathematical operations Jake could solve.
She looked back up at Will. “He likes you.”
Will shrugged, but his pleasure at her statement was clear in the tipping of his lips and the brightness of his dark eyes as he glanced fondly down at Jake.
“Whatever it is, you should tell me,” she said, stroking the silky strands of the boy’s hair. “I might as well leap into the lion’s den as prepared as I can possibly be.”
He flinched subtly at that. “Your sisters and
Will glanced at the boy. His head rested against the back cushion, and he was still gazing outside, but his eyes were half closed. He was nearly asleep.
He turned back to Meg. “Call me Will,” he murmured. “Like you did before.”
She tore her gaze away from him. A blush crept across her cheeks. He wanted to touch her, to kiss away that warmth there. God, she was beautiful. Even more so than she’d been years ago. He’d thought her the most beautiful woman in the world then, but now… He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about her. Everything, from her goldcurls and the smattering of freckles across her nose, to her gray eyes and slender but curvaceous form, appealed to him.
He’d grant her anything. Anything but what she’d just requested.
“I’m not stopping this carriage. You need your family, and they need you.” He leaned forward, and his voice was firm, filled with the confidence that he wouldn’t fail her this time. “I know you’re afraid. But I’ll protect you. I promise.”
She closed her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
He fought off the annoyance that filled him at those words, and his voice was calm, matter-of-fact, when he said, “That’s because you’ve explained very little to me.”
“Please know that that’s for your protection. I promise you. Please trust me.”
Such anguish glowed in her eyes that his anger drained away instantly. “I do trust you, Meg,” he said softly. “The problem is, I don’t believe you trust me.”
Will was right. She didn’t trust him. Through no fault of his own—he was the strongest, most steadfast man she’d ever known. But she’d spent so many years trusting only herself, Jake, and Sarah, that she’d forgotten how to let anyone else in. She’d forgotten how to trust. It wasn’t as simple as just opening up to him, either. She just might do that if she didn’t have Jake to worry about.
Will cleared his throat, and when she glanced at him, he said, “There’s something else…”
The obvious distress in his expression turned her blood cold. “I thought learning that my sister had stolen my identity would be enough for one day.”
His brows rose at the cynical tone of her voice. She’d surprised him—the side of her that was a cynic hadn’t existed back when he’d known her.
“It can wait,” he murmured, “but not for very long. It’s best I tell you this before we arrive in London. I’d prefer you hear it from me rather than…” His voice faded, and he glanced at Jake. Meg looked toward the little boy. His head had lolled forward uncomfortably. She plumped one of the carriage pillows on her lap, took Jake into her arms, and laid his head onto it.
The boy shifted, and his eyes fluttered open, but she murmured to him, “Sleep, dearest,” and gently combed her fingers through his hair. Soon he drifted off again.
“You care for him,” Will observed quietly.
“He is everything to me.” Meg looked down at Jake, and love for him surged through her. He was so innocent, despite all the horror he’d experienced in his short life. And while most people thought him an idiot, Meg knew the opposite was true. She hadn’t known many children other than her younger sisters years ago, but in many ways his mind was more advanced than other children of his age. Surely few six-year-olds could work the difficult mathematical operations Jake could solve.
She looked back up at Will. “He likes you.”
Will shrugged, but his pleasure at her statement was clear in the tipping of his lips and the brightness of his dark eyes as he glanced fondly down at Jake.
“Whatever it is, you should tell me,” she said, stroking the silky strands of the boy’s hair. “I might as well leap into the lion’s den as prepared as I can possibly be.”
He flinched subtly at that. “Your sisters and
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