Twice Tempted by a Rogue (20 page)

She stared at him. A whole parade of emotions marched through those silvery eyes. Surprise, desire, vulnerability, disappointment … something he fancied might be genuine affection.

“How can you say such things to a woman and not take her directly to bed?” she asked. “It’s cruel, I tell you. Cruel.”

“It’s a cruel, cruel world,” he teased. In a serious tone, he added, “It’s not only about bedding you, I hope you know. I want to take care of you. I can’t bear to see you working so hard.” He cast a glance around the humble kitchen. “Once we’re married, I’ll rescue you from all this.”

“But I don’t
want
to be rescued from all this. This is my life. I enjoy working here, just as you’ve enjoyed building that house.” Her hand went to his wounded head. “If anyone needs rescuing, it’s you. You’re in danger here, the longer you stay.”

“I keep telling you—”

“You keep telling me you’re indestructible. And I’m telling
you
, I just scraped your unconscious body off the floor.” Her hands laced behind his neck. “Don’t go back to the moor alone. Stay with me tonight.”

“I can’t.” He stood, setting her on her feet as he did. “I should be going.”

He couldn’t imagine staying under this roof without bedding her. And this night was
not
going to be their first night. Just as well. With his throbbing head, he wouldn’t have been in top lovemaking form.

“It’s all right out there,” he assured her. “Just two more weeks, two more rises—and the walls will be done. The paring and timbers … another week, maybe. Then all it will need is some thatch and a few coats of limewash. Well, and window glass, doors, shutters. And furnishings. I’ll be making some trips to Plymouth over the next few weeks, to place orders.”

Calming, she made a slow circle of the room. “There are things I’ll be needing for the new guest rooms, too.” She smoothed her hair with her hands. “When you go, may I send a list with you?”

“I suppose.”

She began ticking items off on her fingers. “Old Mr. Farrell will make me the furniture, but I’ll be needing mattresses. And washbasins, chamber pots, fabric for bedding and curtains …”

“Wait, wait. I know nothing about fabrics.”

“I know nothing about Plymouth. I’ve never been farther than Tavistock. And …” She bit her lip. “And I don’t really know what a guest of quality expects, anyhow. I mean, I try to ask roundabout, when travelers come through. But you’re a lord. You’ve traveled all over England and the Continent besides. You’ll know far better than I how to select quality goods.”

The idea struck him—so swift, so brilliant—his head ached with it. A smile pulled at his mouth as he massaged his pounding temple. “You’ll have to come with me,” he said.

“To Plymouth?”

“No, not to Plymouth. If you want guest rooms fit for people of quality, you ought to go where they go, shop where they shop. You’ll come with me to Bath.”

Oh, it was so beautiful—that bright shimmer of excitement in her eyes, before her practical nature doused it.

“Are you mad? I can’t go to Bath. It must be two days’ journey in either direction.”

“I’ll hire a coach to drive us straight through. If we leave before dawn, we can manage it in one day.”

“And what of the inn? Who’ll take care of the inn?”

Rhys looked toward the bar. “Who’s taking care of it right now? You said yourself Cora’s doing well. Between her and Darryl and your father, they’ll manage without you for a few days.”

She crossed her arms. “We can’t travel alone together. It’s not proper.”

“Who in this village is going to care? But if you’re anxious about how it will look to strangers, we’ll present ourselves as a married couple at the hotel. For appearances only.”

“For appearances only?” She arched a brow.

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You did want romance.” Oh, yes. This was how he was going to get everything he wanted. Meredith’s body and her troth. By giving her a taste of her future life as Lady Ashworth.

“A perfect gentleman? Truly?” She leaned one hip on the counter. “Do you really think you’ll be able to spend all day with me in a private coach, then night after night in the same room, with one bed, and still resist temptation?”

He pretended to think on it. “No.”

She shook her head and laughed.

“You’ll come with me, then?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll come with you. Fool that I am. I’d like to see Bath once in my life.”

“It’s only the beginning,” he told her. “There are so many places we could travel together. We could see the country, Merry. The Continent too, if you like. There’s a whole world out there to be discovered.”

“Funny. There’s a whole world out there. And the one place I’m interested in discovering with you is the underside of a bedsheet.”

“I understand they have bedsheets in Bath.”

She smiled. “One night, Rhys. Your perfect gentleman act won’t last. You’ll be sharing my bed before the night’s out.”

“I’m counting on it. Because I know your innkeeping aspirations won’t survive a day beyond the borders of this village. Before the night’s out, we’ll be officially engaged.”

There. The battle lines were drawn. They just stood there for a moment, gazing at each other and letting all that pent-up sensual excitement prickle over and around and between them, like electric fluid in a thundercloud.

“This is fun,” he said.

“What is?”

“This.” He gestured into the space between them. “Just this.”

It
was
fun. It was near-unbearable, the tension between them, and possibly doing irreparable damage to his breeding organs. But it was also wonderful, and something he’d never experienced before. She wanted him, he wanted her, and the air around them just smoked with it. This was the force making him feel so alive, so driven, so directed toward a goal.

Because she
was
his future. And somewhere, deep down, despite all her protests, she knew it too.

With a dry smile and a mock salute, he turned to leave.

“Rhys?”

He stopped. An absurd hope bloomed in his chest, that maybe she’d finally acknowledge it, give in. The trip to Bath could be their honeymoon.

“Take the hounds with you?” she asked. “I’ll sleep better if I know you’re not alone.”

He nodded and whistled to the dogs. Not quite what he’d been hoping for, but he’d take it. For now.

Chapter Fourteen

“Oh, ma’am. It does look well on you. You’d hardly know it was a strumpet’s gown.”

“Are you sure?” Meredith fretted in the predawn darkness, twisting and turning before the mirror. This was the largest looking glass in the inn—the one adorning her finest guest room—and still she couldn’t get a sufficiently reassuring view.

Proper-sized mirrors
, she mentally added to her shopping list.

It had been two weeks since Rhys had issued the invitation to Bath. Why had she waited until the last possible moment to pack?

“The color’s lovely,” she said, running her hands over the ruby-red silk. Did genteel women truly wear such colors? “Are you absolutely certain I won’t look like a whore? That wouldn’t do at all.” She threw Cora a guilty look. “That is … I beg your pardon, dear.”

Cora smiled. “No need, Mrs. Maddox. I understand perfectly.”

Did she? Well, in that case, Meredith wished the girl would enlighten
her
. For she scarcely understood herself at all. Here she was leaving tomorrow morning to travel alone with a gentleman for several days, with the express purpose of making love to him several times, and no intention to allow said activities to culminate in marriage. And she was concerned that a red dress might make her look the tart?

She tugged up on the neckline. “I need a fichu.”

“I don’t think so, ma’am. The cut is not so very low, and your …” The girl’s voice died, and she cleared her throat.

“And I don’t have so very much to put on display.” Meredith smiled, patting her modest bosom. “Of course, you’re right. And you’ve done a fine job with the fitting.”

“There wasn’t much to alter, save the hem. You and the owner had quite similar measurements.”

“This wasn’t your dress, then?”

“Oh, no. I never had anything half so fine.”

“Then where did it come from?”

“When Mr. Bellamy had me staying at the Blue Turtle in Hounslow, there was a lord and his mistress stopping over. Well, the two of them had a noisy row right in the middle of the courtyard, in the wee hours of the morning. He’d cast her out into the cold, then flung her dresses out the window.”

Cora shook her head. “That was the scene that made me realize I never wanted to be any man’s whore again. The lady who owned these dresses, she had what all us girls wanted—a wealthy protector to buy her nice things and treat her well. And still, when he had no more use for her, he cast her out like rubbish. I didn’t want that to ever be me.”

A little smile curved Cora’s lips. “Evidently, the fancy lady had too much pride to pick her garments out of the mud. She simply left them on the ground and ordered her carriage, and that was that. So I gathered them up, brushed out the dirt as best I could. I planned to make them over for myself someday, but they suit you better.” She carefully folded a leaf-green muslin frock edged with ecru lace and laid it in Meredith’s trunk. “There’s this, too, for the daytime. And a traveling cloak.”

Touched, Meredith caught the girl in a warm hug. “Thank you. You’ll have the dresses back, I promise.”

“Well, I did leave the excess inside the seams, just in case,” Cora admitted, reaching to undo the row of tiny closures down the gown’s back.

As Cora helped her change from the red silk gown into her plain, serviceable traveling habit, Meredith drilled the girl on all the details of minding the inn. Where to find the extra stores of Madeira if wealthy guests happened through, how to start watering down the drinks a good hour before closing, and where to find Skinner’s mother if he had one of his bad nights.

“Don’t be so anxious, ma’am,” Cora said, packing away the silk gown. “With Mr. Lane and Darryl and Mrs. Ware all helping, we’ll be fine.”

Meredith wished she could tell her to call on Gideon Myles in an emergency, but she couldn’t trust him anymore. They’d scarcely spoken two words in the weeks since Rhys’s “accident” at the ruins. Much as Meredith hated to believe Gideon was responsible, it was the only explanation that fit.

As Rhys said, his attacker certainly could have finished the job, so clearly the incident had been meant as a warning. Not just a warning to Rhys, but a warning to
her
. Only a few weeks remained of the two months’ grace Gideon had extended. The other night, she’d worried aloud to Rhys that Gideon might make good on his threat to kill him, if he didn’t leave the village soon.

Rhys had only laughed, much to her dismay. He refused to see Gideon as a threat. While Meredith had no doubt that Rhys would come out the victor in a fair fight between the men, this wasn’t an army skirmish or a boxing match. Gideon had time to bide, knowledge of the terrain, loyal men to assist him. The ambush at the ruins proved all too well that Rhys was not as indestructible as he claimed. As she knew from experience, she couldn’t bear to stand helplessly by while he courted death.

There was a knock at the door just as Meredith finished tying the traveling cloak in front. Before she could even call, “Come in,” her father entered.

“Father.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re up early.”

“’Course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t see you off?” He patted her arm. “And I wanted to talk to you, just a minute, before you go.”

She bit her lip, making a great effort not to openly cringe. She hoped he didn’t mean to discuss the implications—moral or otherwise—of her traveling alone with Rhys. They’d never spoken of Maddox, not in any marital context at least, and though Meredith supposed her father must know she’d taken a few lovers since her husband’s death, they’d mercifully never discussed that, either.

“I’ll carry your valise down, Mrs. Maddox.” With that, Cora left them alone.

“Let’s sit,” she said, guiding him to the bed.

He sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, using his arms to settle his weight. The worse of his crippled legs extended at an awkward angle. Since the fire, when his leg was crushed by the weight of a burning rafter, he’d never regained the ability to bend it properly at the knee. Her heart twisted in her chest. After so many years, she suspected he’d learned to ignore his injuries better than she had.

The old man’s face was very grave. “Meredith …”

“I’ll stay,” she said, clasping his hand. “If you don’t want me to go, only say the word, and I’ll—”

“No, no.” He gave a gravelly chuckle. “Go, child. Enjoy yourself. I wish I’d been able to do this for you, for your mother. You deserve a holiday far grander than this. What I wanted to say was just …” He squeezed her hand. “Rhys is a good man, Merry. He’s had a hard time of it, but his heart is in the right place. Give him a chance.”

“Oh, Father,” she whispered. A bittersweet smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better. It’s Rhys who doesn’t believe in chance.” She squeezed his hand and whispered, “May I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“If you happen to see Gideon while I’m gone, make this little speech to him.”

“Are you ready to leave?” Rhys appeared in the doorway, dressed for travel.

Father stood and greeted him warmly. Meanwhile, Meredith took advantage of the diversion to discreetly swipe at her eyes. If Rhys did leave Buckleigh-in-the-Moor, her father would be so disappointed.

Between Rhys, Gideon, her father, the inn, the village—Meredith felt her loyalties stretched in too many directions of late. At night, she lay wrung out and restless in her bed, racking her mind for a solution. A way to keep everyone happy and secure. No answer had come to her yet.

Farewells were exchanged in the first gloom of dawn. Rhys handed her into the carriage, settling her on the front-facing seat. He spoke a few words to the coachman, heaved his weight onto the opposite bench, gave the carriage roof a smart rap … and then they were under way. The hounds yipped after them, chasing them all the way out of the village. Poor beasts, they’d probably miss Rhys far more than they’d miss her. They’d grown quite attached to him in recent weeks.

Meredith’s stomach danced with every swaying motion of the coach, and excitement fizzed through her veins. She stretched her fingers inside her traveling gloves, and the seams chafed her work-roughened hands.

Here we go
, she told herself, as the village’s last thatched roof rolled past.
This is really happening
. She was truly departing Buckleigh-in-the-Moor, and not for a half-day’s bartering in Tavistock, but for an indulgent stay in Bath. Best of all, she was going there with Rhys. She resolved to leave all her worries in the village, where they belonged, and simply enjoy these precious days. A giddy smile stretched her face, and she unglued her gaze from the small window in order to share it with him.

He was asleep. Arms folded, chin tucked to his chest. Boots propped possessively on her seat, but thoughtfully well clear of her skirts. The coach swung into a turn, and a low, soft snore rumbled from his chest.

She pressed her wrist to her mouth to keep from laughing.

Well, he was a soldier. She supposed he could nap anywhere. And since she knew his sleep to be all-too-often disturbed by unpleasant dreams, she didn’t want to rob him of his well-earned rest. Not presently, anyhow. If she had anything to say about it, he’d be getting little sleep in Bath.

But for her part, Meredith could scarcely bring herself to blink. As dawn warmed the countryside, she kept her face pressed to the window glass, the better to greedily consume every detail. She’d never passed by this route before, and she might pass a lifetime without traveling it again.

After some time, the carriage lurched to a halt. Rhys woke with a start. His boots hit the carriage floor with a jarring thud.

“All’s well,” she assured him quickly. “I believe we’re stopping to change horses.”

He glanced out the window. “We’re nearing Exeter. That’s good. Shall we climb out and stretch?”

They walked a bit, away from the inn, strolling through the fringe of a wooded glen that bordered the lane. It amazed her, what a short distance they’d traveled and yet how many plants grew here that she did not know by name.

“We never talk about you,” she said, taking his arm. And their opportunities to do so might be dwindling by the day.

“There’s not much to discuss.”

“But of course there is. You’ve traveled all over. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been?”

“Anywhere you are.”

She blushed like a girl, despite herself. “This from the man who claims no talent for romance. No, be serious. I truly want to know. French mountain ranges? A Belgian cathedral? The open sea?”

“Tulips.” He lifted his chin and stared hard into the thickening trees. The pause grew so lengthy, Meredith wondered whether he meant to say anything else. Perhaps he just had a particular fondness for tulips.

“A whole field of them,” he finally said. “In Holland. Red tulips, in endless waves. And a clear blue sky overhead.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It was.” A dull note landed on the word
was
. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I believe they have the new team harnessed.”

And that was the end of that.

As the coach got under way a second time, he stacked his arms on his chest and propped his boots beside her, as though he would sleep again. But this time, she did not hesitate to interrupt.

“Tulips,” she said. “So they’re the most beautiful sight. What about the ugliest?”