He stopped only inches from her, stroked Belle’s cheek, smiled when the baby wrapped her tiny hand around one of his fingers. Then a look of amazement lit up his face. “She smiled at me!”
Bethie laughed. “She likes you. Is that no’ true, little one?”
Belle smiled again, a wide toothless grin, then gurgled.
Bethie looked up, met Nicholas’s gaze. The look in his eyes—a mix of potent male hunger and tenderness—made her stomach flip.
“I came to ask if you’d like a tour of the fort.”
***
Nicholas guided Bethie through the crowded fort, watched her face light up with excitement. They had left Belle in Annie’s care, the older woman beaming with delight at the chance to hold the baby again. He wanted to make Bethie smile, to chase the lingering shadows from her eyes.
“’Tis like a city!” She smiled. “I’ve never seen so many people in one place. To think Philadelphia is even bigger than this!”
Charmed by her innocence, Nicholas couldn’t help chuckling. “Aye, Philadelphia is much larger and boasts fifty times as many people.”
She looked up at him, amazement on her face, then looked at her feet, bit her lip. “I must seem a bletherin’ bumpkin to you.”
He tucked a finger beneath her chin, lifted it. “Nay, Bethie, love. When I look at you, I think only how brave and beautiful you are.”
She shrugged off his compliment, smiled mischievously. “You are more than a wee bit brave and dashy-lookin’ yourself, Master Kenleigh.”
“I speak the truth, Bethie.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over the softness of her lips, told her in the only way he could that he hadn’t spoken in jest.
She met his gaze, the playful look in her violet eyes gone, replaced by one of deep female vulnerability.
“Shall we continue?”
Hewasspeaking the truth. Her loveliness enthralled him. Everything about her proclaimed her femininity. The faint lavender scent that lingered from her bath. The gentle sway of her hips as she walked. The spun gold of her hair in sunlight. The soft, thick braid that hung to her waist.
The new gown fitted her perfectly—a bit too perfectly if one considered the way her creamy breasts rose in soft mounds above the bodice. Why hadn’t he thought to bring her shawl? He didn’t care if it was hotter than Satan’s arse. He didn’t want men eyeing her.
“Over there is the hospital.” He pointed.
She gestured to a small building that stood apart from the others. “What’s that?”
“The smallpox hospital.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Are there—”
“Aye. Écuyer says there have been a few cases this spring. Fortunately, they were isolated quickly, so the disease did not spread. Would you like to go atop the walls?”
“Is it permitted?”
He’d never seen a woman up there and doubted Écuyer would like it. But he didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the rules, not when she looked at him with such anticipation. What could Écuyer do to him? He was a Kenleigh, after all, and Écuyer needed him.
He took Bethie’s arm. “Why not?”
From atop the high walls, Bethie looked out over the surrounding countryside, felt both dizzy and excited. “I’ve never been so far off the ground.”
A warm breeze brushed her skin, carried with it the mingled smells of forest and river. Sunlight warmed her through the linen of her gown.
“It’s beautiful country.” His arm encircled her waist, pulled her closer. He smelled of pine soap, leather, and man, a heady scent that made her pulse quicken.
She saw the three rivers—the Allegheny, the Ohio, the Monongahela—trailing off to the east, the west, and the south like flowing ribbons of silver. She saw the hoofprints their horses had left in mud in their frantic dash to the sally port. She saw blackened earth where cabins had once stood. She saw the king’s garden, the fields beyond the fort’s walls that supplied food for the fort. She saw the forest stretching into the distance, a turbulent sea of green. Behind her a drummer tapped out a rhythm, accompanied by the tune of a fife.
But she saw no sign of Indians.
