“Have you forgotten that this is my home.”
“And you are a man who can sleep anywhere while I am responsible for five young women. You cannot expect me to take them into the forest in hopes of finding another hut.”
“Sleep on the terrasse, the floor. I do not care. Just let me rest.”
“Very well.” With a huff Tempest stormed from the hut and slammed the door.
Mr. McNaught was the most unlikeable man she had ever encountered in her life and she was not going to give up the hut to him. Not when she had young children who could be harmed without shelter.
Two
Rhys had not slept the night before because he was doing one of the things he did best—listening. In the afternoon, he had strolled through the markets and made purchases to gauge the mood and struggles of the residents, then spent the evening sitting near French officers at their favorite tavern gathering further information, before he left to scout the ports, then approached the main French stronghold, Fort Desaix, under the cover of darkness to once again determine the strength of their defenses.
He hadn’t left Fort-de-France until this morning, after not having slept, made the trek back to the hut and now wanted to sleep.
He had been looking forward to his bed as he walked home, totally unsuspecting that he’d been invaded.
Rhys had also hoped that by disrobing in front of her that Miss Driscoll would have run away scandalized and sought shelter someplace else, but she hadn’t. Though, he had enjoyed the blush on her lovely cheeks as she stared at his naked chest and had she not been a miss and if children were not about, he might have engaged in a more intimate activity before he slumbered.
Unfortunately, that had not been the case and he already knew that until the females were retrieved from the island, his living circumstances were not going to be pleasurable.
Those were his last thoughts as he drifted off only to be startled awake by banging on the walls, stomping on the terrasse and the shrill cry of a child.
He sat up in bed and scrambled to the door in fear the French soldiers had discovered them, only to find the children were playing…or doing their best to make certain that he was disturbed.
“Mr. McNaught, the children!” Miss Driscoll chastised. “Please be properly dressed before making your appearance.”
He glanced down and remembered that he only wore trousers, then returned inside and grabbed the light linen shirt. “I thought the British had invaded,” he called out.
“Oh, did we wake you?” He grimaced at her overly-sweet tone.
“You know bloody well that you did,” he said and stepped back outside. “And you did it on purpose.”
“Really, Mr. McNaught, your language.” She gestured toward the children.
He couldn’t dress as he wanted, and he needed to watch his language, what else would she demand?
“I thought you were collecting coconuts,” he grumbled.
“We did and they are there.” She gestured to a pile.
“Then why are you not drinking from them or something?” he demanded.
“Because it may be our only meal and we must ration our supplies.”
“I just brought back supplies. Food.” Though it would run out if they were here for long.
“You will share with us?” She seemed surprised that he had no intention of starving them, though it would buy him silence in the end.
“Of course. I am not a monster.” Just out of sorts because there were little girls running around, making noise, and crying, while their censoring older sister’s judgement found him lacking of good character.
“We thank you, Mr. McNaught.” She stepped upon the terrasse as if she were going to enter his domain.
“Not now, I plan on returning to sleep.”
“The children are starving, Mr. McNaught. They have not had a real meal in nearly twenty-four hours. Only coconuts and passion fruit.”
“Can you cook quietly?”
