Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (7 page)

“Will it do?” she asked, turning so her warm breath whispered seductively across his neck.

He didn’t miss the hint of a plea in her voice. It was the first time she’d willingly handed control to him. Apparently his manly prowess back at the carriage had gained her respect and admiration. He knew better than to puff up his pride; a woman’s attentions were as fleeting as summer in Scotland.

Over an hour ago she had finally given in to temptation and had collapsed against his body. Her back was now plastered to his chest as she attempted to get warm. He wasn’t cold, although he was soaked through. How could he be cold with the woman’s soft body pressed to him? How could he be cold with her lush bottom snuggled so intimately against his lap?

But she was chilled, obviously. He was sadly aware of every little shiver. Aware of each quivering breath she drew. Had even felt the quick patter of her heart against the side of his arm when they’d heard the snap of twigs in a nearby forest. Merely a deer, but it hadn’t mattered. His arm had tightened around her narrow waist and he’d felt the sudden urge to protect. He’d tried to protect his mother. Pointless. He’d tried to protect his sister. Look how well that had turned out.

“Aye, it will have to.”

He sure as hell wasn’t going to let her fall ill. Not that he cared; he merely wanted his pay…at least that’s what he told himself. Besides, being outside made him feel uneasy. There were too many shadows, too many places where an enemy might hide. At the rate his luck was going, he wouldn’t even make it to the coast, let alone America before he’d be shot dead. Bedbugs were the least of his worries.

A shadow of a boy raced from the decrepit stables, taking their reins. He didn’t miss the way Elizabeth slid the lad a coin, the metal glinting under the lamplight. No matter what his problems
with the woman, and there were many, he couldn’t say she was greedy.

Gideon jumped from the mount. The entire front garden was made of a particularly sticky muck that clung to his fine leather boots, but he was barely aware. He scanned every shadowed corner, finding suspicion in the smallest noise, even in the snort of pigs as they rooted through the refuse piled along the side of the house.

“Do help me, please,” Elizabeth called out.

Reluctantly, he turned to her. As if he could forget her presence. Although they no longer touched, he still felt the pressure of her body, as if she’d permanently burned his skin. Aye, she was much too distracting, and he would be wise to keep his distance. Still, he had to remind himself over and over that she was merely a client, nothing more.

“I’m quite cold and my skirts weigh at least two stones, soaked as they are; I could use some assistance getting down.”

He wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers biting into her hips, and lifted her with ease. Hell, he barely knew her. He owed this woman nothing. Almost as soon as he’d touched her, he released his hold. Her boots hit the ground, and mud splattered across the hem of her gown. She didn’t seem to be the least offended by the mess. Instead of reprimanding him for not carrying her to the door, as he’d expected, she gathered as much of the sodden material that made up her skirts as she could and headed toward the inn on her own.

Her show of independence might gain his reluctant respect, but in this place, she would only find offense. In a few quick strides he was at her side, following her into the smoky warmth. He hadn’t been to an inn in years, but it was very much as he remembered as a lad. He took in everything at once, from the weary travelers seated around small tables, to the roaring fireplace close by, to beams above covered with webs and dust, to the barkeep behind the counter against the far wall. The place smelled of ale, of smoke, and of unwashed men.

Suddenly, Gideon was a young lad again, the memory coming swiftly and bitterly.

“Where are we, Mama?”

“Hush now, Gideon.” She shifted the baby to her right hip and took his hand. He’d never stayed at an inn and was nervous and excited at the same time. “We’re here to meet your papa.”

But his father had never shown, and they’d wasted the money they didn’t have on a room, waiting. His mother had been forced to entertain a man in the back of the stables just to get enough coins to return home. Gideon forced the memory into the past, where it belonged.

Not surprisingly, the Ole Ship Inn was full of travelers. And not surprisingly, they all turned to stare at Mrs. Ashton as if they’d never seen a woman before. A handful of pale, weathered faces hunched around small tables. Gideon’s hackles rose, and he stiffened to his full height, which was rather impressive at over six feet. For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the soft patter of raindrops. Instinct told him that it was imperative he enforce his dominance immediately. With a thorough glare, he managed to scare off a few, who shifted their attention to the tabletops.

Aye, he was annoyed with their blatant interest. But at the same time, he didn’t blame them for staring. Her face was flushed, her damp clothing clung to her lush body, and that hair was like sparkling fire that drew a man’s attention whether he wanted to look or not. Gideon shut the door, and the sound of rain abated. He sure as hell didn’t need trouble. And Mrs. Ashton courted trouble.

“Ken I help ye?” the barkeeper barked.

Mrs. Ashton lifted her chin high and started toward the man. “A room—”

Gideon gripped her arm tightly. Startled, she paused in midstride. Those wide, innocent eyes told him she hadn’t a clue that
she’d almost destroyed her reputation. Gruffly, he pulled her back beside him, anchoring his arm protectively around her shoulders. “A room for my wife and me.”

She flushed, realizing her mistake almost too late. What the hell had she been thinking? She might be in charge in her world, but not here. Christ, he hadn’t signed up to play nursemaid to a woman with no common sense. He slid some coins across the counter, thankful Lady Lavender gave them an allowance, as small as it was.

The keeper hesitated, his bushy white brows drawn together. Gideon would have been suspicious as well. They were wearing fine clothing yet had arrived on one mount and had no luggage.

“Very well,” the man grumbled, scooping up the coins, recovering quickly enough from his confusion. “Mary, get yer arse over here.”

A woman pouring ale behind the counter sashayed toward them. She looked forty if a day, although he had a feeling she was more likely around his age; life had taken its toll on the wench. She plopped her elbows onto the counter’s surface, her bosom practically bursting from the low neckline of her dingy brown gown.

The woman didn’t bother to glance at Mrs. Ashton but only had eyes for Gideon. “What ken I do fer yer?”

“Room,” the owner snapped.

Gideon leaned closer to the woman and gave her a disarming smile. “And make sure it’s clean.” He winked, and her round cheeks flushed. “We’d also like a bath, if you can manage.”

He ignored Mrs. Ashton’s snort of disgust, keeping his attention on the serving wench where it belonged at the moment. When one didn’t have the coins to acquire excellent service, one quickly learned to use other means. His mother would be proud.

“Of course, me lord.” She rounded the table, her massive bosom brushing Gideon’s shoulder. He knew an invitation when he felt one. The smile she gave him only confirmed her offer. It took a whore to recognize one. She snatched a glowing lamp from the wall. “Follow me.”

“Pardon.” Mrs. Ashton shoved her way between Gideon and the wench as they started toward a narrow set of stairs at the back of the shabby room. Gideon knew better than to think the woman was actually jealous. No, she was merely reasserting her control. Mr. Ashton must have been a weak-kneed fool.

Gideon glanced around the shadowed room, aware of the many faces watching their progress. They were looking for easy prey. He shifted ever so slightly, making sure the gleam of the pistol at his waistband was visible. Just a quick warning that he was not to be easily trifled with. The murmur of conversation returned, the travelers refocusing on their mugs of ale and bowls of stew, too exhausted to attempt anything devious.

“Miss…Mary, was it?” Mrs. Ashton asked.

The serving wench paused at the stairs and glanced warily over her shoulder. “Aye?”

“If you can find me a clean, dry gown, you’ll be rewarded. And clothes for…” Elizabeth slid him an amused glance, her face soft and beautiful in the lamplight, at odds with the weathered serving wench before her. “My husband as well, if you can find anything to fit him.”

The woman sneered, lowering her lantern and splashing light against the stained walls. “Nothing like ye’ve got. Only have a wench’s dress.”

Elizabeth shoved her hand forward, two coins glittering on the pale surface of her palm. “Tis well enough, as long as it’s clean and dry.”

The woman made quick work of scooping up the coins and stuffing them into her cleavage, her sneer turning into a welcoming grin. Amazing how quickly money could make friends of enemies. “Follow me.”

Mrs. Ashton started up the stairs, and Gideon gladly followed behind, taking the opportunity to study the woman from a new angle. The hypnotic sway of her hips, the way a loose curl brushed
seductively across her swanlike neck…Gideon felt the wicked stirrings of lust lapping at his insides. Unnatural, it was.

Trapped overnight in a small inn with this woman would be anything but torture. In his opinion, the sooner they consummated this relationship, the sooner things could go back to normal. Somehow the situation had gotten out of hand. Given his lack of socializing, perhaps the unease he felt would dissolve once he was between the smooth thighs of a woman, where he belonged. Hell, he didn’t want to know her given name, he didn’t want to discuss where they had been born, or their likes and dislikes. Chatting only made her all too human.

“Most ladies would not wear the gown from a servant,” he said softly near her ear.

He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. He’d thought to mock her, but instead he realized he was only drawing her into conversation. She paused halfway up the stairs and faced him, a bemused smile upon her lush lips. “I’d wear anything if it was dry and clean.”

They were eye to eye, so close her warm breath brushed across his lips. His heart skipped a beat. Who the hell was this woman with her ready smile and gentle eyes? Aye, he wanted to keep things simple. She was merely a client. He would show her sexual pleasure and leave. But his curiosity had caught him off guard. Even as he thought to keep his distance, her odd comment whispered through his mind.

“Those were the men my mother-in-law sent to kill me.”

He hadn’t bothered to question her when they’d escaped. He was too concerned with reaching shelter. But now that he had time to truly contemplate her response, he found himself insatiably curious. If he was smart, he’d slip away now, undetected, and be free of Lady Lavender and Mrs. Ashton both before he ended up shot or worse. But he had little money, less since paying for the room. If he could make it to Mrs. Ashton’s country home, he wasn’t
above borrowing some silver to pay his way to America. He’d saved her life, after all; she owed him.

She started to turn back around, but his hand on her arm stopped her. Something was off. Aye, he noticed everything about the woman, including the way her gaze darted from shadowy corner to shadowy corner. The way she flinched at the slightest sound. She was afraid.

They made it to the hall, the serving wench far enough ahead that she wouldn’t overhear. “Are we safe here?”

She shrugged and glanced nervously toward the top of the steps where the wench had disappeared. “As safe as anywhere, I suppose.”

Was she intentionally being a dunce? “Will your mother-in-law come after us here?”

“No. She’s a coward when it comes down to it. Most likely Mr. Frond and Sam have disappeared for good. It will be some time before she realizes I survived.”

She hiked up her wet skirts and rushed up the steps, following after the serving wench and not bothering to explain further. Perhaps she figured he didn’t care, or maybe she thought he didn’t deserve a complete response. Or maybe—most likely—she was hiding something. Gideon frowned, catching up to her at the top of the steps. The serving wench was waiting impatiently at the end of the hall.

Gideon leaned close to Mrs. Ashton, his lips brushing her ear. “And do you plan to explain why your mother-in-law would want you dead?”

She sighed. “She wants my inheritance, of course.”

Gideon paused in midstride, struck by the realization that this woman must be an heiress. But how much money, exactly, did she have? If her mother-in-law would go to the extreme of having her hunted down and murdered, she must have inherited quite the treasure. Despite his resolve to keep his distance, he found himself pressing his hand to the small of her back. He had a feeling
that this innocent-looking milkmaid just might be his ticket to America.

“Here it is.” The serving wench shoved open the last door on the right. She curtsied, showing some respect now that she had a few coins in hand. But she didn’t wait for their response, disappearing down the hall, unconcerned with the state of the room.

“Will it do?” he asked, watching Mrs. Ashton with some amusement as she stepped hesitantly through the doorway.

The room was sparse and left much to be desired, but rather typical for an inn. A large four-poster bed took up most of the area. Against the far wall was a brick fireplace with a cold hearth. It was far from luxurious, although it seemed clean enough. Better than the stables. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for the complaints he knew would come.

Elizabeth dropped her reticule to the bed. “It’s dry and warm, it will do.”

He frowned, annoyed at being surprised by her once more. Before he could question her sunny disposition, a lad appeared caring a hip tub. He settled the bath in the middle of the floor, then scurried toward the hearth, starting a fire, but Gideon was barely aware of the boy. No, he only had interest in the woman who was humming softly as she went to the window and pulled the faded curtains closed. As if she was merely settling in for the night, she found the bed and smoothed down the faded blanket, then fluffed the pillows.