Seducing the Single Lady (5 page)

What other gentleman would take her riding astride? Lord only knew what else he had in mind for the day. B
ut a moment later she learned it would involve a stop at the Queen’s Head Tavern.

Damien
dismounted and flipped some coins to a young lad, ordering him to watch the horses. Susannah took a moment to consider how she’d get off the horse.

“Swing your
right leg over and slide down. I’ll catch you”

He did, oh he did. He claspe
d her waist. She slid down facing the horse, and given how close Damien stood to her, she also felt every inch of his hard chest and abdomen on the way down. Her breath quickened.

Even with her boots firmly on the ground,
Damien still had his hands on her waist. She found herself unable to move.

The lad looked at them oddly—reminding her that
she was dressed as a boy. Oh, how they must look!

“
I hope no one knows us here,” Susannah said softly. She’d be able to enjoy herself all the more away from the watchful, judgmental eyes of the ton.

“It’s an out-of-
the way place. I doubt we’ll encounter anyone of our acquaintance. Didn’t think it would be good for my reformed reputation if word got out that I was squiring around a young lad to less fashionable parts of town.”

“You have just gi
ven me an idea for blackmail.”

“I’ll take you down with me, Susanna
h.” He leaned over to whisper the words in her ear, making the threat seem all the more dangerous.

“Not very gentlemanly of you.”

“Old habits…” he murmured, pressing his hand on the small of her back in a pleasantly possessive gesture. They stepped into the dim tavern and she held back allowing Damien to lead the way through the scattered rough-hewn tables right up to the bar.

Tucking her hat down low over her face, Susannah dared to peek
at the other people in the tavern. While a few looked up no one really paid much attention to her. Usually she reveled in the attention of onlookers, which she deliberately courted with daringly cut gowns in sumptuous jewel-colored silks and satins, ostentatious coiffures and fascinators with feathers and jewels dangling from her ears, her neck, her wrists. All of it declared she was A Person Of Consequence. All of it dared them to ignore her.

Never again did she want to be that unfortunate, overlooked girl she’
d been as a young woman. Ignored, save for the occasional pitying or despairing glance.

No one paid her much mind here and it was fine. She felt free. She didn’t feel lonely, with
Damien here. She didn’t feel judged or appraised. They all just glanced at her, categorized her as boy and went back to their hearty breakfasts.

But then she set eyes on the barmaid.

Or rather the barmaid set eyes on her. It was a look Susannah recognized from her male suitors. It was the look of lust. Desire. Intrigue. It inspired odd flutterings of excitement in her belly. This look told her that her disguise was working and she appeared to be a very fine-looking young man.

“Hello there. Can I get you anything?”
The barmaid’s voice had a breathless quality to it. She was young, perhaps Susannah’s age. Her hair was an angelic shade of pale gold and it curled in the sort of perfect ringlets that women spent hours with a hot iron pressed to their heads trying to acquire. Her lips were red and full. Her wide eyes were blue and fringed with dark lashes.

She was pretty. Very pretty.

Susannah, not trusting her voice to not betray her, gave a little smile and let Damien do the talking.

“Two pints,” he said. The girl glanced at him, back at Susannah, and just gave a dreamy smile and a sigh.

Damien smiled patiently at her. Susannah smiled as well. Smiles, all around. Strange currents of attraction swirled.

“Frannie
!” an older and more buxom tavern maid hollered, jolting the lovely girl out of her reverie. “Hurry with their drinks or I’ll help the gentlemen myself.” Susannah understood from her hungry look at Damien exactly what kind of help she would be happy to provide.

Was that a flare of jealous
y she felt? No, of course not. Definitely not when Damien, like the rake he was reputed to be, gave the woman a wink.

“
Are you flirting with her?”

“Hardly. I merely had a twitch in my eye.”

“You winked! Flirtatiously!”

“A
man does what a man must do in order to get a drink,” Damien counseled. “If you are to act as a man, you ought to learn that.”

“I cannot believe you are flirting with another woman in front of me.”

“As far as anyone knows, Susannah, you are a just a tall young man who hasn’t yet had his voice change or grown hair on his face. Or elsewhere…”

“Oh dear lord,” she muttered, with an unmanly blush heating up her cheeks. “
It seems my disguise is so convincing that you have forgotten that underneath this shirt and these breeches I am very much a woman. A lady. ” 

“Oh, I can assure you I have not f
orgotten,” Damien said, leaning against the bar, close to her. “In fact, I’m shocked that you have managed to convince everyone else that you are a boy.”

“Shhh….”

Frannie approached them slowly, carefully holding in each hand a mug full to the brim of ale, with some of the amber liquid spilling over and sliding down the length of the glass.

“Here’s your ale,” she said, pushing the glass across the bar. As Susannah reached for it—eagerly, for she was surprisingly parched from that morning’s hard ride—their fingers brushed.

Frannie’s cheeks turned pink. Susannah’s did too, she was sure of it, for the novelty and strangeness of the situation overwhelmed her. She was used to practiced rakes and hardened flirts with their carefully crafted compliments. Frannie’s innocent interest in Susannah was such a sweet contrast. Complicating matters was the girl’s angelic beauty, which drew second glances from men and women alike.

“I haven’
t seen you ‘round here before,” Frannie said. By you she clearly meant Susannah. Damien, ignored by the girls, stood to the side, sipped his ale and watched their awkward conversation with a bemused smile.

“It’s my first time here,” Susannah said.

“Travel far?”

“A few miles,” she replied. She had no idea where she was, actually.

“What brings you this way?”

At this Susannah grinned and leaned across the bar. “Adventure,
” she whispered.

“
I’d love to have an adventure,” Frannie said wistfully. It was a sentiment Susannah recognized.

“It is my understanding that young ladies don’t have nearly enou
gh of them,” Susannah said, thinking it sounded like something Damien or any other man might say.

“Isn’t that the truth! What a nice chang
e to have a man who understands,” Frannie said. “My brother Angus is a big old lummox…he says all the adventure I need is right here, serving beer and meat pies. What a dolt. I swear our mama must have dropped him as a babe.”

Her adorable vehemence made Susannah laugh, which made Frannie blush.

Then Damien cut into their conversation. “Speaking of meat pies…might you bring us a few?”

“
I’d be happy to,” Frannie said, before disappearing into the kitchens.

“
It seems you have a sweetheart,” Damien remarked.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?
Her heart will be broken if she should learn the truth about me and I would hate to make her sad.”

“
We’ll have to call you something else then. Susannah is hardly a boy’s name.”

“Xavier,” she said spontaneously. “Call me Xavier. It sounds so dashing.”

“It sounds ridiculous,” Damien said flatly.

“
How about Peregrine?” Susannah suggested. She could see herself as a Peregrine.

Damien
indulged in another long look at her. Every time it affected her strangely. Every time!

“Percy could suit you,” he said finally.

“Peregrine Xavier Grey,” Susannah said slowly, her lips curving into a smile. “
I daresay I like it.”

Damien
half laughed, half groaned. “Why do I feel that I’ll be receiving missives from you signed Percy?”

Just yesterday, or even hours ago,
Susannah would have replied that there could be no reason for them to have a correspondence and he needn’t expect any missives from her signed Percy or otherwise. The words were there on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken, but she bit them back because she no longer meant them at all.

Funny, what a change had occurred wi
thin just a few hours! As if in her corsets, gowns and jewels she were the imperious and haughty Miss Grey who lived only to enjoy and preserve her liberty to live as she wished.

But in breeches, with a mug of ale in hand, she was Percy, a young lad engaged in a flirtation with the barmaid and the
hulking man beside her on a barstool. She rather being liked Percy.

“I do think I will write to you,” Susannah said. “ After all, good
manners compel me to send you a thank-you note for the gifts. Unless you want them back?”

“Not
my size,” Damien drawled.

“Not at all…”
she said, and indulged in along hot look of her own at Damien. He was bigger than she remembered. Brawnier, too. The years had been good to him. His mouth curved into a smile and she caught a spark in his eye. He raised his glass to hers.

“
Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers,” she replied. “
To adventures.”

“Together.
Adventures together.”

Susannah/Percy just smiled and sipped her ale, which was cool and bitter on her tongue. Until that moment, she had
banished his proposal from her thoughts. But now she dared to consider it.

Her mind immediately strayed to the wedding night.

This was Damien—her lifelong nemesis and constant plague upon her—but as she sipped her ale and gave him a good look from under the shadows of her cap, she saw the rogue everyone else did.

She saw
the way his dark hair fell rakishly across his forehead. Maintaining her disguise was the only thing that kept her from gently brushing it aside. She saw his firm, sensual mouth and imagined a kiss. She took note of the slashes of his cheekbones, the distinct line of his jaw—shadowed slightly with stubble. His eyes were bright green and fixed upon her. She blushed, imagining the wedding night.

Not that she was going to marry him.

Freedom! Liberty! Mistress to herself and no one else!

She
had solemnly vowed her allegiance to those things.

She had promised herself.

And yet…his mouth, upon her lips. Those strong hands, all over her. That mischievous grin, in the moonlight.

“Your sweetheart is com
ing,” Damien murmured with a slight nod of his head. “Percy.”

Indeed, Frannie
was heading their way with a tray in her hands, one laden with plates and food. She carefully set the tray down and served them plates with steaming hot meat pies, slices of wheat bread with fresh butter, mismatched cutlery and rough linen napkins.

“Can you I get you anything else?”
Frannie inquired. “Anything?”

“I th
ink we are alright, thank you,” Damien said.

“This is
excellent. Thank you, Frannie.”

“
Oh, you’re welcome,” she said, blushing. “We don’t get folks like you in here to much.”

“Oh?”

“All mannered and all,” she said with a nod to Susannah’s delicate handling of cutlery for the meat pie. Damien—and for that matter, everyone else in the tavern—ate favored hands over utensils. “Such a gentleman.”

“Well someone ought to set an example,” Susannah/Percy replied. “My mother would have my head otherwise.”

Frannie leaned against the bar and smiled dreamily.
“My mum says you can always tell a good man by how they talk about their own mums. I reckon she’d say you were a good one.”

From
blushes to meeting her mum after just a pint of ale and a few bites of pie. An amazingly delicious meat pie. The crust was flaky and buttery. The filling was hot and savory. Susannah took another sip of ale. Damien had nearly finished his and she’d barely touched hers.

“Here
I’ll refill that for you,” Frannie said, taking Susannah’s—Percy’s—glass. Damien just grinned and muttered, “Sweetheart is sweet on you.”

“I
might be falling for her myself,” Susannah whispered. “Most of the women I meet aren’t so kind. At least not to me.”

“That’s when t
hey see you as competition. Frannie sees you as someone to be won.”

“Or someone to love.”
Susannah said the words softly. For all of her wealth and newfound circle of acquaintances, Susannah did not have someone to love or to rely on. When matters vexed her, she had only her maid to discuss them with. But while Abigail excelled at styling her hair, she wasn’t quite an expert in matters of the heart or high society.