Too Hot For A Rake. Pearl Wolf

quicker. “Allow me, milady.” She tucked her mistress’ hair under, leaving a few curls out to frame her face in a most becoming way, a task at which Amy was a master. “You look lovely,” Amy said, as she placed the pelisse on Helena’s shoulders. Without a word, Helena left the room and proceeded down the stairs, to be met by the innkeeper.

      “Allow me to settle the bill with you, sir.”

      “No need, milady. His grace directed that all charges be sent to him. Was everything satisfactory?”

      “Oh yes. Thank you for your hospitality.” While she spoke to the landlord, Amy passed them, carrying her ladyship’s portmanteau. Helena followed her out into the yard and entered her carriage, but before Casper could close the door, she held it open and said, “See to Lord Waverley’s baggage. His valet will sit up with you, Casper. Have you met him?”

      Casper grinned. “Bit of an oddball, ain’t he?”

      Helena nodded in agreement just as Waverley drew up on his horse. He tipped his hat to her and smiled.

      She smiled back at him, but there was no light in her eyes. Good heavens! How am I going to get through the rest of this journey without further mortification?

      “Your ladyship—?”

      “Say no more, Amy. Spare me, please. Your lectures make my head ache.”

      “I’m sorry for what I done, but Lord Waverley’s a rake, taking advantage of an innocent lady like yourself. Men like him—”

      “Enough, for heaven’s sake! Not another word out of you, do you hear?”

      She reached for her diary, picked up her quill and began to write whatever thoughts popped into her head.

      “Milady?” Amy twisted the handkerchief in her hands as she spoke.

      Helena glared at her. “Don’t interrupt again, do you hear?”

      A light rain began to fall but soon turned into a downpour. Casper pulled to the side of the road and stopped long enough for Lord Waverley to tie his horse to the rear of the carriage and enter.

      “Beg pardon,” he said. He removed his coat, already drenched, and dropped it to the floor. “That’s better. I trust my joining you isn’t too much of an imposition? We stop for the night in Exeter, still hours away. My horse doesn’t seem to mind the rain, but I most certainly do.” He tapped the roof with the blunt end of his whip, a signal to Casper to move on.

      “No imposition, I assure you. Make yourself comfortable, sir.” Helena removed her handkerchief from her reticule and handed it across to him. “Take this to wipe your face.”

      “Thank you, ma’am. My valet will restore it before I return it.” He wiped his face, ignoring Amy’s stern glare in his direction, and closed his eyes to bar further conversation.

      Helena returned her diary to her reticule, for the erratic motion of the carriage sloshing through rutted roads made writing impossible. While Waverley rested opposite her, she too rested.

      When Casper pulled up to a small hostelry in Taunton, the only sign above the door read “Inn.” The sun had reappeared but the ground remained sodden. Waverley stepped down first. When he offered his hand, Helena took it, expecting to have to wade through puddles to the door of the inn, but the marquis swept her into his arms and carried her inside.

      “Th…thank you, sir,” she managed. “How kind.”

      He set her down in the taproom and bowed. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

      While Rabu spread the picnic fare supplied by the innkeeper of Arnos Manor in Bristol on one of two tables, Amy fetched a draught for the marquis, and lemonade for her mistress. Casper joined Rabu and Amy at the other table in the corner of the room, though the room was so small every word Helena and Waverley said to one another could be heard.

      “Try to get some sleep when you return to the carriage, ma’am. Exeter is more than five hours away.”

      “You may ride with me and continue to rest if you wish, sir,” she said shyly.

      “Thank you, but my horse might object. He needs his exercise.”

      Helena’s infectious laughter caused Casper to grin, Rabu to giggle and Amy to frown.

      Once under way, Helena leaned back and closed her eyes, but try as she might, she could not sleep, for Lord Waverley troubled her thoughts. He was such a contradiction. Tender at times, brusque just as often. He was seductive at times, behaving with propriety just as often. Who was the real man inside these contradictions?

      By the time they reached the Turks Head Inn in Exeter, a fifteenth-century hostelry, Helena was too weary to eat dinner in the private dining room. She ordered a light supper sent to her chamber and fell asleep soon after. At dawn, the sound of voices coming from the courtyard woke her. Startled by the rude noise, she pushed the covers away, went to the window and peered over the sill. The light lit the face of the man on the ground. The marquis! With caution, she opened the window a crack and peered out in time to hear Waverley speak.

      “I need my horse, if you please,” he said to the landlord.

      “It’s too early, your lordship. The stable lads are asleep.”

      “I ride this early every morning for exercise, sir. I’ll make it worth their while. Yours as well.” The marquis reached into his trousers, pulled out some notes and pressed them into the landlord’s hand. “Ten minutes.”

      Curious, Helena drew her head in, snatched her robe and went to the door. She tiptoed to the banister just as Waverley entered and started up the stairs. Helena tried to hurry back to her chamber, but she tripped on the hem of her robe and sprawled facedown.

      “Ooof!” She raised her head only to greet a pair of large, shiny Hessian boots. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked the boots.

      “I might ask the same of you, ma’am. Are you spying on me?”

      Her eyes traveled slowly up past the boots to the tight buckskin trousers clinging to his thighs before she was rudely snatched to her feet. He steadied her as she fell against him. A tremor coursed through her body. It took all her strength to keep her knees from buckling.

      “I’m waiting for your answer.”

      She cocked her head to one side and stuck out her chin. “I asked you first.”

      Waverley’s eyes turned to flint even as the scent of verbena nagged at him. “Well? What have you to say for yourself, ma’am?”

      She stepped back and clutched her gown closer. Why did he wreak such havoc on her senses?

      Without warning, he thrust aside her hands. “What are you hiding? Let’s have a look.” His fingers played a silent tune on her breastbone. They slipped inside the edge of her gown. Moved lower.

      Her breath caught when the heat of his body penetrated hers. She closed her eyes, pursed her lips in anticipation of his kiss and leaned toward him, her hands splayed against the wall behind her to steady herself.

      The back of his hand brushed across her breast. Her lips parted as she drew closer until she felt every hard inch of him.

      “Enough for the moment, milady.” He let her go and sauntered down the hall toward his chamber.

      She shivered as she watched him disappear into his chamber.

      Does he think me a strumpet who is desperate for him? Someone he can use whenever he pleases? Someday, I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget, if it’s the last thing I do!

      What was wrong with her? Had she no allure? Was she not desirable? She had been spurned first by Darlington and now by Waverley, the most exasperating man she’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. He told her she was appealing, didn’t he? Was he just being polite? There must be something wrong with her, else why would men spurn her?

      She