“Then run through the dark forest in your bare feet for all I care, just make sure they take their shoes with them.”
He stood, brushed the crumbs from his lap, then marched away.
Four
After he had eaten, Rhys returned to the hill to make certain the soldiers were still there, which they were, having set up camp and gathered around a cookfire. Since it was growing dark, and he was confident that they would not be straying anywhere that night, Rhys slipped away and returned to the boat where he retrieved his bottle of rum, then returned to the terrasse where he anticipated spending the night.
He’d sleep in his hammock but it was too far away and he needed to be closer to the hut to protect them.
Unable to get comfortable, he finally leaned back against the house and stared out over the sea and drank from the bottle of rum. He wasn’t concerned about getting drunk. He never drank enough for that, and he certainly couldn’t let his faculties be diminished with French soldiers nearby.
It was going to be a very long night, especially since he could not get the image of Miss Driscoll only in her shift out of his mind. It was a thinner material and he was certain had he the time to truly take in her appearance, he might have noted her nipples and the darkness at the apex of her thighs.
She was also quite fetching in his trousers and shirt.
This was also not the time for him to be distracted with desire and lust for a miss. That would surely see them caught.
He was still leaning against the hut as dawn was breaking. He had gotten some sleep, but it had been disturbed. Each noise alerted him and without opening his eyes, he listened for anything that should not be present such as hushed voices or a foot on a twig, and when there was nothing, he’d crack his eyes, look around, hand on his knife, then drift back asleep.
He also woke exhausted and pulled himself to his feet.
Miss McNaught and her sisters were likely still asleep and he took the opportunity to return to the rise above the beach to make certain the French soldiers had not wandered anywhere other than where they’d stopped.
He found them huddled around their cook fire, a kettle above it as they grasped their mugs and grumbled and complained.
“How long do we wait?” one of them asked.
“If the supplies did not make shore overnight, if they were not already here, we are to return.”
There were more grumbles about the long walk, which really was not so far, and should be an easy excursion for soldiers.
“An hour,” the one said. “We pack up and leave in an hour.”
“What about scouting the area?” a third man asked, which drew Rhys’ attention.
“We scouted, we looked, we listened. Nobody is out here.”
“What about that English fellow?”
“He is not the concern. We were to look for British soldiers. There are none and I am not traipsing all of the forest looking for something that is not there.” He took a drink from his cup, clearly the leader. “We leave in an hour.”
Rhys slipped away and returned to the hut and quietly knocked, though he suspected that the females were still asleep. Instead, the door was opened by the youngest.
He really should learn their names.
“May we come out now.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Where is Miss Driscoll?”
“We are all Miss Driscoll,” she answered innocently.
Yes, well, he supposed they were. “Your eldest sister.”
“She is asleep.”
“Could you please wake her and ask her to join me out here.”
The child did not answer, but shut the door in his face.
