Free Patricia Rice by All a Woman Wants Page B

him. Setting the wriggling toddler loose on the floor,
he rubbed his eyes and looked again. Miss C and Bitsy. Morning sunlight
illuminated their fair complexions, and he was tempted to rub his
fingers over Miss C’s cheek to see if it was as silky as it looked.
Remembering the roughness of his hands, he refrained.
    She’d helped him through last night’s terror. In his
mad escape from London, he’d never contemplated how he would deal with
the children if he didn’t have Nanny Marrow. He was paying the price of
that thoughtlessness now.
    Rubbing his aching temple, Mac watched as his
hostess blindly located the babe with her hand, reassured herself that
all was well, and rolled to her back, nearly falling off the narrow cot.
He snickered, and she woke instantly.
    Buddy crawled onto the pillow beside her. “I gots a
horsie, Missy,” he announced, pushing the stuffed remains of a
bedraggled animal in her face. “Pammy’s not cwyin’.” He bent approvingly
over his sleeping sister and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
    Missy. Miss C, Mac’s addled
brain translated as he reached over to haul his nephew off the bed.
Buddy hadn’t learned to use his sister’s nickname yet. Maybe Miss C
wouldn’t notice. He should be grateful she hadn’t badgered him with
questions he couldn’t answer. “You’ll wake your sister, brat. Play on
the floor.”
    Miss C’s eyes popped open again. Her hair hadn’t
entirely come down from its pins and combs, but wisps curled and fell
about her cheeks and neck. With those wide brown eyes staring up at him,
she didn’t look much older than the children.
    “How’s Bitsy?” he asked, thinking a bit of
distraction prudent. He didn’t imagine she had much experience waking
with a man in the same room.
    Her gaze shifted to the squirming babe sucking her thumb. She tested a padded bottom. “Wet.”
    Mac leaned his aching head against the chair and
watched through half-lowered lids as Buddy scooted about the floor,
chasing a toy horse. The prior night was still too raw in his memory for
comfort. “They’re so damned small and helpless,” he murmured. “How can I
possibly keep them safe?”
    “You can only take care of one minute at a time.”
    Her calm appraisal soothed his ragged nerve endings.
    He listened to the rustling sound as she sat up and
straightened her petticoats. Too bad she wore so many clothes. He’d have
liked to have seen her in only a shift. Or less. He scowled instead of
following that lustful train of thought. “They have an entire future
ahead of them. How can I see only the present?”
    “Marry,” she said with what he detected as a hint of
spite. “Let your wife worry about the present while you fret over a
future that hasn’t happened yet.”
    The nursery door softly opened and closed, leaving him alone with the two helpless babes. How the devil had he gotten himself into this?
    Marilee, he remembered. He was doing this for his sister—who was probably rolling around heaven, laughing at his predicament.
    He peered suspiciously out the window to see if any angel feathers floated by. Marilee had always enjoyed a good joke.
    ***
    Beatrice hid in her room until she heard Mr. Warwick
greet James and the front door opening and closing. He behaved as if he
were quite at home.
    She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep in the same room with him.
    Her cheeks burned, and she wouldn’t look in the
mirror as she shook out her fresh skirt and petticoats and prepared to
face the questioning eyes of her household. She would simply pretend
nothing had happened.
    Nothing had happened, she
reassured herself. They’d merely taken turns walking the floor with
Bitsy until the babe had fallen asleep. Beatrice couldn’t precisely
remember when that was. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep first. And Mr.
Warwick had laid the babe down and rested his eyes. That must have been
it. Nothing to be ashamed of. She had more pressing matters to