Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau by Maggie Dallen (amazing books to read TXT) 📕

to meet the twinkling laughter in her eyes. “Hmmph.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She shifted so she was facing him. “This is the most expedient way to get your answers and be rid of him. And that’s what you have been waiting for, hasn’t it?” Her gaze turned searching. “That is why you’ve stayed, is it not?”

He gave another eloquent grunt. And this time even he wasn’t quite certain what he meant by it. Was it the reason he’d originally stayed? Yes. The threat of pirates and Marcus and Minerva’s concern for her family. That and his stab wound had been sufficient reason to stay. But the wound had healed, and Roger could very well be out of the picture soon enough, and he...

He had yet to truly consider where he would go next. What he would do.

He looked over at Abigail, who was watching him so sweetly. So naively. With such innocence.

Too good for the likes of him. Of that there was no doubt.

But he couldn’t lie to himself. The reason he’d lingered, the reason he’d grown content here, the reason he’d gone so far as to rent a cottage here...

It was all because of her.

And he suspected she knew it.

His mind called forth that kiss with torturous accuracy. Of course she knew. If she hadn’t before, she surely knew now that what he felt for her was far from apathetic.

He looked away from her stare. He’d rather not think on what it actually was, for it was lunacy no matter how one phrased it. He was a pirate. Former pirate. Privateer. Whatever he called it, it always came back to the same thing.

He was unworthy.

Marcus was at least well born, even if he refused to acknowledge it. He’d been educated and taught his manners, and despite all the brutality he’d seen and the line he’d so narrowly walked with the law, he was a gentleman at heart.

The same could not be said for Caleb.

“When Roger is no longer a threat, what will you do?” she asked.

“Leave, of course.” His tone was more brusque than intended and he could not meet her gaze.

“Of course,” she murmured.

He looked toward the children, who looked utterly content on the floor talking amongst themselves, their heads bent over the books Abigail had given them to study.

“I shall miss you.” The words said so quietly landed with all the force of a cannonball. He felt them rattle his bones.

He turned back to her with a glower. “You’ll be in London, remember?”

She pressed her lips together, and the look in her eyes was so forlorn it hurt to see. This woman should never look so sad.

Certainly not over a brute like him.

She toyed with the fabric of her skirts. “When I return—”

“When you return you will no doubt be married.” The words tasted vile. The guilt that ate at his gut was nothing compared to the jealousy that threatened to burn him from the inside out. “Or engaged, at the very least.” He muttered that last bit under his breath, a reminder to himself more than anything.

“You are right, I suppose.” Her voice held a stiltedness to it that did not suit her. It was a far cry from her genuine lighthearted way of speaking and it did not sit well with him.

He glanced over when she stood. “Children, it’s time for us to leave Mr. Calhoun in peace.”

The urge to stop her, to tell her she shouldn’t go...he only just barely stifled it.

A sense of helplessness the likes of which he’d never felt before had him coming to his feet and following along behind her as she walked over to help her little army gather their things.

“I will walk you home,” he said when she turned back with a questioning look.

Her smile was too sad by far. “You needn’t bother. I can see Hattie and Anna heading this way even now.”

He looked out and saw that she was right.

“Still, I would see you home safe—”

“Please, Caleb.” Her smile was strained, her eyes suspiciously bright. “The only threat to me would be Roger, and he has made his intentions known. He won’t bother us any longer so long as you meet with him as he requested.”

He shoved down this feeling of panic. Like he was going to lose her the moment she stepped through those doors.

Of course he was going to lose her. But that didn’t mean she was in any danger.

Just the opposite.

She’d leave for London and be well on her way to a better life.

“You will do it, won’t you?” she asked.

He exhaled sharply. The idea of providing a means of escape for that weasel Roger was difficult to swallow. But he’d do it. He gave a short nod.

For her he would do anything.

He suspected she knew that too.

Chapter 9

It was with great effort that Abigail feigned a calm the next morning. Over a very quiet morning meal, she exchanged the barest of pleasantries with her father, all the while resisting the urge to tap her foot or shift in her seat.

Waiting was unbearable.

She wasn’t like Minerva. She did not thrive on danger. In fact, she rather abhorred it. But that did not mean she did not have courage. It certainly did not mean she could not face Roger again.

She’d done well enough the day before. But then, Roger had been a different man yesterday from the crazed fiend she’d encountered in the cave. The Roger she’d seen yesterday had been ill-kempt and...well, still crazed, but this time it was desperation that had him wild-eyed.

He’d truly been a pitiable sight, hiding behind the dilapidated shed walls, hissing for her to join him so he could speak his piece.

She sighed, glancing up from the philosophical work her father had chosen for her to study to see Hattie reading a novel as she crocheted. Hattie excelled at finding ways to read while doing just about anything.

The clock above the mantel ticked by too slowly.

She couldn’t be late. She hadn’t exactly confided in