Читать книгу A Regency Courtesan's Pride: More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 12

Cloaked in a fur-lined rug, with a hot brick at her feet and Tonbridge’s large form beside her, Merry felt toasty and warm. She curled her fingers in her swans-down muff and breathed in the crisp clear air.

The snow glinted and sparkled like fairy dust. ‘This was a good idea,’ she said, glancing at Tonbridge.

Once he’d manoeuvred the horses between the gates, he smiled at her. ‘It’s a long time since I drove a sleigh.’

She’d been surprised when Tonbridge insisted on driving them, and then decided it was just as well that his hands were kept busy with the reins, since the seats were not very wide and the thought of his hands on her body was keeping her far too warm. Just feeling him alongside her sent delicious tingles over her skin.

Not surprisingly, Caro had refused to accompany them on their jaunt and Merry had blithely said a groom would go with them. So much for decorum.

The day was too lovely for such thoughts. She wanted to absorb the warmth of the sun in through her skin. Feast on the brilliance of a cerulean sky and rolling hills of pristine white. The vastness shrank her problems to nothing. She leaned back with the muffled thud of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of the bridles filling her ears.

‘The Yorkshire countryside is magnificent,’ he murmured.

‘Most days I’m too busy to notice,’ she admitted. Too wrapped up in business matters.

He tipped his head back to look up into the sky, his eyes creasing at the corners as he squinted at the light. ‘An eagle,’ he said. ‘See it?’

She looked up and saw the bird, wings outstretched to catch the wind, wheeling high above them. ‘It will be lucky to find any prey with so much snow on the ground.’

‘Oh, he’ll find a vole or a mouse or two. Did you know one of my ancestors was responsible for the King’s mews? Back in Tudor times?’

‘Mine probably cleaned up the droppings.’

They laughed and the horses’ ears twitched.

The tension flowed from Merry’s shoulders. He’d made her feel comfortable. She didn’t feel the need to hide the smile curving her lips or to say something blunt to keep him at a distance. She could be herself. She let go a sigh. ‘I wish every day was like this.’

‘Me, too.’

He turned at the crossroads, entering the main road. No tracks marred the snow. No vehicles had passed this way since the previous evening. The wrecked phaeton soon came into view. Snow had drifted around it, but the shafts sticking straight up reminded her of a sunken wreck.

It looked sad and lonely. ‘I hope it can be repaired,’ Merry said.

He frowned. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be driving around the countryside without a groom. Footpads are not unheard of in this part of the country. And there are rumours of Luddites again.’

‘I know everyone in the Riding.’

He shot her a look from beneath his brows that said he thought she was a stubborn foolish woman. She glared back.

He drew the horses to a halt and handed her the reins. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’

‘You surely aren’t thinking of pulling it out of the ditch?’

‘No. I want to look at the axle.’ His frown deepened.

‘Leave it to Jed.’

He didn’t reply, just climbed down and trudged through the snow. Stubborn man.

It was ridiculous. The snow had drifted well up the wheels. There was nothing to see. And what was the point of him getting soaked and cold? He was spoiling the afternoon.

She had a good mind to drive off and leave him there.

He headed back, stepping in the tracks he’d left. He went around to the back of the sleigh and grabbed a shovel.

‘Leave it be.’

He ignored her. Blast the man. Merry wound the reins around a strut and jumped down. She followed in his footsteps, the snow clumping on the skirts of her coat, making it hard to walk. By the time she reached his side, she was sodden. He had one of the wheels cleared of snow.

‘This is foolishness,’ she said.

‘Is it?’ He crouched down. ‘It is just as I thought.’ He looked up at her, his face solemn. ‘This was no accident.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Do you suppose I drove off the road on purpose?’

‘No. Look at that axle. It’s been sawn halfway through from below. The rest of it snapped, but it wasn’t an accident.’

Her stomach fell away. ‘Why?’

He rose to his feet. ‘Yes, Merry, why? Who would want to cause you serious harm? You could have been thrown from the carriage and killed, or died in the snowstorm.’

Her heart stopped. Bile rose in her throat as she stared into the concern on his face. The world seemed to spin around her head as she tried to breathe.

Slowly her heartbeat picked up again. She managed to take a breath. ‘I can’t think of anyone’ Her voice tailed off as she remembered the mill owners’ faces at the guild hall. Angry red faces. And one very worried-looking Mr Prentice.‘Oh, dear.’

Was it possible one of them hated her so much he wanted her dead? Or all of them? Men she’d known all her life? The backs of her eyes burned. Her chest hurt. She wanted to bury her face against Tonbridge’s shoulder and weep like a child.

‘Who, Merry?’ he demanded, his voice almost a growl. ‘Who wants to hurt you?’

She turned her face from his irate gaze. ‘You are mistaken,’ she said dully. ‘It must be an accident.’

‘The evidence is clear and it seems to me you know who did this.’

The urge to unburden herself ached in her throat. She bit her lip against its allure and felt the chill of the air on her teeth. ‘There are several people who don’t like me very much at the moment.’

‘People?’

He wasn’t going to let it rest. ‘Other mill owners. Town councillors. But, honestly, I don’t think any of them would have done such a dastardly thing. They are all respectable men. Pillars of Skepton.’

‘Is anyone else angry at you?’

Her teeth started to chatter. Cold. Shock. Damn it, fear, too. ‘Certainly not. Next you will be telling me this is my fault.’ She spun away from him. ‘This is none of your concern, my lord,’ she called back as she stomped away. ‘Let us return home before we freeze to death.’

‘Merry, wait.’

She kept walking. She couldn’t stop, because if she did, she might fall down, her knees felt so weak. Because if she stopped, she might truly believe someone had deliberately tried to end her life.

He caught her by the arm and pulled her around to face him. ‘Oh, hell,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He wiped her cheek with his gloved thumb. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Her breath stuck in her throat at the gentle concern in his face and the softness in his dark brown eyes. ‘Of course you didn’t scare me. The wind brought tears to my eyes.’

He chuckled, a soft low warm sound that comforted rather than mocked. He pulled his hand from his glove and placed his palm against her cheek. Warmth infused her skin, not just where he touched her, but all over, as if he had the power to heat the blood in her veins from her head to her feet.

‘You are cold,’ he said. ‘You should have stayed in the sleigh.’

Her teeth chattered and her body shook. ‘No, I shouldn’t.’

He swept her up in his arms as if she were nothing but a half-bolt of cloth. ‘My dear Merry, allow me to help you back to the carriage.’

‘Put me down.’ But the words were half-hearted and mumbled against his coat. Somehow her arms had gone around his neck and he was walking. Beneath his hat, his dark hair curled against his temple. His ear was very nicely formed, she decided, not too large, nor did it stick out from his head. In profile against the bright blue sky, his nose was a little crooked. A very small imperfection, scarcely noticeable unless you looked closely. Somehow it made him seem less of a god and more human.

Her heart tumbled over.

Oh Lord, she really did like him. She loved the feel of being in his arms, of being held close to his chest, like something precious. She felt feminine. Cared for. Protected.

He glanced down with a smile. ‘Ready?’

Dash it, they were back at the sleigh already. He lifted her up on to the seat and walked around to the other side and climbed up. He arranged the rug over her knees and tucked it up under her chin. ‘Is there any warmth left in that brick?’

‘A little,’ she said. She had no idea, her toes were too cold.

‘But not enough, I am sure.’ He put his hand under her chin, turned her face towards him. ‘Tell me, Merry.’

The strength of command in his voice shivered all the way down to her toes. The intensity in his dark brown gaze trapped her.

‘Who would want to do you harm?’

His hands cupped both sides of her face. She looked at the firm set of his mouth, anything not to have to gaze into his searching eyes.

‘You do know,’ he said. ‘You foolish female.’ He lifted her face, then those wonderful lips descended on hers, gentle, comforting. ‘Tell me, Merry,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Let me help you.’

Then his mouth firmed, it wooed and tormented until she could no longer think of anything but the delicious sensations ravaging her body. Her insides quivered with the joy of it, her heart thundered and she angled her head for better access to those wonderful lips. She pulled her hands from her muff and put them on those powerful shoulders.

His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, not demanding, sweetly requesting. Resistance had no place in her mind; the joy filling her took up every inch of space. Trembling deep inside she granted him entry and he swept her up on a tide of passion.

She clung to him, and let her senses drift where they would. Delightful waves of desire washed over her, thrilling and beautiful.

Slowly he drew back, his brown eyes smoky beneath half-lowered lids, his breathing as ragged as her own. ‘Tell me.’

The man had no mercy. And she had no will. Never had she felt so weak. So vulnerable. Not since the day her parents died and she’d learned love was a fleeting thing. She shivered.

‘Damn,’ he said under his breath. ‘You are still cold. I need to get you back to the house.’ He paused, his dark gaze hardening. ‘But I will have the truth of this.’

She briefly closed her eyes against the pull of the insidious weakness. Brushed his demand away with a half-laugh. ‘You make mountains from molehills, my lord.’ She sounded breathless. And, God help her, afraid. The moment he released her, the bone-chilling fear had returned. Someone had tried to do her harm. A warning, or had they actually intended her death?

It didn’t bear thinking of.

He picked up the reins. ‘Call me Charlie. Make no mistake, Merry, I will not let this rest. You will let me help you.’

The heir to a dukedom was used to getting his own way. And he wanted to shoulder her burdens. It felt good. For once having a man want to protect her felt freeing rather than constraining.

‘Very well,’ she said, the words spoken before she really had time to think. ‘There is one thing you could do for me.’

Engaged in the process of turning the horses in the road, his head whipped around, a question on his face.

‘Marry me,’ she said.