“Captain, no,” Anne said, putting out her hand to prevent him from lifting the boy. “He’s a dead weight when asleep and you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Lady Melton, I may be injured, but I can still carry one small boy.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean any insult, Captain.” 

Damn. He’d embarrassed her when she’d only empathized with his incapacitated state. He nodded at his men, picked Daniel up and shifted him so the boy flopped over his shoulder, and walked to the door, deliberately taking small steps to hide his lop-sided gait. 

“Good night,” he said to the room in general. “Find your beds and get a good night’s rest. There is a chance we’ll encounter British deserters tomorrow, so we need to be alert.” 

Some of the men tried to stand but he waved them back down and looked at Anne. “Coming, Lady Melton? A fire has been lit in your room, so you and Daniel should be quite comfortable.”

She thanked him and wished the men a good night, before following Gabe up the stairs, not mentioning her son’s dead weight again and, to his relief, ignoring the ungainly way he tackled each step. When he reached the top, he sagged for a moment against the wall, and she walked past him to open the door to her chamber. He laid Daniel on the bed and said, “Thank you for allowing me to hang onto my pride in front of the men. Wouldn’t do for them to think their leader more debilitated than them, especially if we encounter trouble tomorrow.”