The hell he had spells.
'I believe you should find another line of work.'
He ignored the suggestion. 'One really shouldn't get personal when one is debating.'
'Is that what we're doing?'
'Debating?'
'Yes. Are we debating?'
'I thought we were. What did you think we were doing?'
'Getting personal.'
He laughed.
'Exactly what were we debating?'
He didn't have the faintest idea. He wasn't about to tell her so, however, and so he decided to make up something that sounded reasonable just so he could continue to argue with her.
'We are debating the differences in our philosophies of life.'
'We and our? My, but those words do imply getting personal to me.'
'Point given, Miss Clayborne.'
She gave him a regal nod.
'I can sum up the differences between us in just two words.'
'So can I,' he assured her.
'Ladies first?'
'Of course.'
'Experience and observation. I experience life. You observe it. I'll wager you were going to say the very same thing.'
'You'd lose your wager then,' he countered. 'I would say logical versus illogical, order versus chaos, sanity versus insanity…'
'Lawyers do love to go on and on, don't they?'
'Some do.'
'You do realize you just called me illogical, insane, and chaotic?'
'You do realize you just said I only observe life? It isn't true.'
'It's raining. I think we should stop.'
Lightning lit up the sky. 'It's going to get worse,' he predicted.
'Probably. There are caves about a quarter of a mile from here. We have to backtrack just a little, and we should hurry now. The trail's going to become too dangerous for MacHugh and Millie.'
He didn't want to stop, but darkness was already closing in on them, and it would have been foolish to try to go on. He had hoped to reach the peak above her home before night caught up with them. The trail was much wider there, safer for the horses. They could find their way back to the barn with or without light. Instinct and hunger would guide them.
Spending the night with Mary Rose was just as dangerous for him as treading over slick stones would be for the horses.
He would, of course, behave like the gentleman he had been trained to be. He had given Adam his word, and he meant to keep it. He would have acted honorably regardless of his promise, however. Behaving wasn't the issue. Frustration was going to be the problem, but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. He was going to have to suffer through the unnecessary test of endurance, no matter what. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the miserable night ahead of him.
'Hurry up, Harrison,' she called after him. 'It's only a fine mist now, but in a few more minutes it's going to become a downpour. I don't want to get soaked if I don't have to.'
Harrison thought she was exaggerating. A short time later, when he was soaked through to the bone and freezing, he had to admit she'd been right.
The cave they found was little more than a long, narrow overhang of rocks. There were two reasons they went inside. One, it wasn't occupied, which was a problem to be considered given the nightly habits of some of the animals in the area, and two, the floor was dry. The air was as damp and welcoming as sleet, but not too drafty, and so it would have to do.
MacHugh refused to go to the back with Millie. Harrison stripped the stallion of his gear and let him stand near the mouth of the cave. The horse changed his mind and moved to the back as soon as Mary Rose got a fire going with the twigs and branches Harrison had collected. He'd tried for ten minutes to get the damp wood to ignite. She was more experienced than he was, however, and knew how to stack the wood just right with dried leaves she'd gathered from the floor of the cave.
Harrison dried off the horses as best he could, then caught water in a makeshift bucket he fashioned out of the canvas he'd been intelligent enough to bring along, and gave the water to Millie. When she'd had her fill, he let MacHugh quench his thirst.
Mary Rose worked on drying the damp bedrolls and then made up beds for the night. She placed the blankets side by side.
He wanted his on the opposite side of the fire, but he didn't complain because he knew she was only using good sense. They would need to stay close together to share their warmth during the night.
She took off her boots, moved them away from the fire, then pulled out the gun he hadn't noticed until now tucked into the waistband of her skirt, and put it under the fold in her bedding.
Harrison went to the other side of the fire and stood there, trying to warm himself.
'Have you camped outside much?' he asked.
'No.'
'You act like you have.'
She knelt down and added a few more twigs to the fire. 'I prefer my own bed, but one does what one has to do to stay warm out here. Isn't that right?'
'You aren't at all squeamish.'
'Heavens, I hope I'm not squeamish. Did you think I would be?'
He shook his head. She didn't understand the world he had come from, where gently bred women fainted over the slightest suggestion of impropriety. So fragile was society, reputations could be ruined by inconsequential whispers. Queen Victoria set the standards for the day, of course, and she rigidly emphasized prudence in every undertaking, sobriety, and caution. Yet while she also showed the world what an independent thinker she was, the women in England Harrison associated with still didn't educate themselves to emulate her.
He and his best friend, Nicholas, were running with the wrong crowd. The women they associated with depended on others for their every need, including amusement. If any of them became bored, it was someone else's fault.
God, what a miserable, restrictive life he had known. It was too damned bleak to think about.
Mary Rose Clayborne. What a breath of fresh air she was. He hadn't believed she could take care of herself. Now that he had time to think about it, he realized he had made several erroneous conclusions about her, based on his own narrow-minded knowledge of the women from his past.
She certainly proved him wrong. He was impressed with her no-nonsense approach to their situation. He was beginning to think she had more common sense than he had believed.
Then she took her clothes off. His knees almost buckled under him when he realized what she was doing. His opinion changed in the blink of an eye. The naive woman didn't have any sense at all.
'What in God's name do you think you're doing?' His roar of outrage echoed around the stone walls.
'Undressing. Why?'
'Put your blouse back on.'
She ignored his command. She finished removing the garment and then bent down to take off her socks. She stood on her blankets so she wouldn't get her feet dirty.
She straightened up again, her wet socks in her hands, and smiled at him.
He was staring at her. She thought he might be looking at her locket.
'It's a pretty locket, isn't it?'
'What?'
'My locket. I thought you were looking at it.'
