Page 35 of The Scarred Lyon

“Thank goodness for competent doctors.”

Duncan kissed her hand. “They are few and far between. All that looting and burning had a profound effect on York’s settlers. It hardened them, especially their feelings toward the United States. So much so that the following year, the local militias and British troops burned the White House and the Capitol building to their foundations. Mark my words. British North America will be its own country—and soon.”

“Did you like it there?” Augusta asked softly.

“I did, very much. The scenery is breathtaking. Watching the town of York grow on the shores of a great lake, I was tempted to stay, perhaps permanently.”

“But life had other plans.”

“Fate indeed, took a turn.”

Augusta smiled. “I am glad you told me. Are you?”

Duncan kissed her hand again. “I am.”

Augusta stood. “The sun is starting to set. You stay by the fire, and I will prepare some food. My ankle is much better today.” A soft woof emanated from the hearth. “And Lady is hungry as well.”

As Augusta headed to the root cellar, her heart swelled with emotions both thrilling and mystifying. Then again, maybe not as mystifying as she thought.

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Duncan tried to stay as quiet as he could, but Lady had other plans. He had taken Lady outside earlier to see to her business and his own, and had managed to rub snow over her legs and paws to remove most of the mud, but now she wanted to be fed and was becoming rather vocal about it. He also tended to Dawn, wrapping his leg with a fresh, cold cloth. The swelling had dissipated somewhat, but it would be weeks before his horse recovered fully. Augusta stirred as he built up the fire.

“It’s morning?” she asked, yawning.

“Just checked my watch. Thirty minutes past eight.”

Augusta rolled off the pallet, and he immediately ducked inside the tent structure to help her stand.

“How is the ankle?”

Leaning on his arm as they stepped forward, she placed weight on her ankle to test it. “Much better. And you took off your sling!”

“I am feeling much better as well.” Augusta looked entirely beautiful, her disheveled, silken black hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Better enough to do this.” He cupped her cheeks and, without hesitation, kissed her deeply. He gentled the kiss, then deepened it, and Augusta returned it eagerly. He kissed her neck, then her lips again. She moaned softly. God, he was aroused. Slowly and reluctantly, he ended the kiss, his forehead touching hers as he caressed her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Augusta whispered. “I would like to be kissed like that at the beginning of every day, by the by.”

“I shall endeavor to do so.”

“Could you help me with my cloak? I have to—”

“Of course.” He released her and fetched her wool cloak. “Do you need your case?”

“Yes, please.”

While Augusta used the privy, Duncan retrieved the food hamper from the cellar and placed the cast-iron skillet on the grate. He had also gathered four eggs earlier, and started preparing them now.

“The sun is out,” Augusta exclaimed eagerly as she stepped over the threshold. “The icicles are melting. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Do you think Mr. McGloin might be able to come soon?”

“It could be as soon as tomorrow, or perhaps the next day for certain. The storm has passed.” He flipped the eggs over with a fork.

Augusta removed her cloak. “There is such a lot of snow. I could barely move toward the front of the cabin; the drifts are so large.”

“It will make travel difficult, but ultimately, not impossible. Come, let’s eat.”

They settled by the fire with their food and mugs of tea.

Duncan knocked the scone against his plate with a distinct thud. “Unfortunately, the bread items are beyond hope. We will have to finish the sliced chicken and beef tonight before they turn.”