With that, he strode out to the street and headed for the telegraph office. The tide would not wait for them.
Inside the telegraph office, he found Annabelle, seated on one of the rough wooden chairs, arms folded in her lap, skirts jostling in time with one tapping toe.
For some reason, the sight of her, bristling with impatience, buoyed his spirits.
Spotting him, she rose and glided toward him.
His insides clenched. By God, the way she moved…Did she even realize that she fairly reeked of feminine sensuality? He liked to think she orchestrated the effect in order to manipulate men through their carnal urges.
Unfortunately, the more time he spent with her, the less he could convince himself that was true. The less he could claim to understand her at all. She was a mass of contradictions—on one hand, totally innocent, and on the other, the ultimate temptress. And he’d agreed to bring her home with him until her chaperone arrived. Talk about being a fool.
He stared down at her. “You sent your telegram?”
She nodded. “The clerk has your bill prepared.”
He snorted and approached the counter to pay.
Afterward, he took her elbow and led her from the office.
This close to her, he smelled the sea water on her gown. It masked to some extent that alluring scent that wreaked such havoc on his senses, thank God.
Glancing down at her, a realization struck. “Your chaperone left—and with her, all of your things.”
“Yes, as I previously stated.” She spoke the words as if explaining to a child.
“You not only have no money, you have no clothing—other than that travel gown you’ve worn for the last several days.” He gazed pointedly at the water stains marring the skirt’s hemline.
She lifted her chin with defiance, even as a becoming shade of pink crawled up her neck. “What of it?”
He sighed and led her toward the stables where he’d left his horse. “I suppose that simplifies matters. We hadn’t much time to gather your things from the inn, being that the tide will shift again in an hour or so, and with two of us riding, we couldn’t have managed your entire trousseau—which you undoubtedly brought, despite your plan to collect me and be off in less than forty-eight hours.”
“I beg your pardon?” Never breaking stride, she studied him, as if astounded.
He turned his head to look at her. “Which part did you not comprehend?”
The corners of her eyes tightened with annoyance. “What do you mean, bringing up the tide? A-and sharing a horse?”
“Oh, that.” He resumed looking forward. “We shall return via the flats.”
She was silent a long moment. Finally, she asked in a voice that was barely audible, “Why?”
“I’m…not sure what you mean.” The stables came into view.
“Why aren’t we returning by boat?”
He shrugged, though he could see in his periphery she was no longer looking at him. “No sense putting you through the discomfort when there’s an alternate route we can take—so long as we make low tide.”
When she made no comment, snarky or otherwise, he shot her a quick glance.
She gazed straight ahead, her expression a combination of bemusement, and wonder, for lack of a better word.
So he hadn’t wanted to see that stark terror on her face again when it could be so easily avoided. He would have made the concession for anyone. Still. No sense confusing matters. They were not friends, and she was not an invited guest.
“I hope your chaperone makes haste in arriving, madam. Do not think I’ll be furnishing you with a new wardrobe while you wait.”
Her cheeks flamed scarlet. Even the tips of her ears bloomed pink.
Instead of a sense of triumph at the direct hit, however, he felt like an ass. “Perhaps Babette can rework a few of the gowns that are there,” he half muttered as they reached the mews. “Kindly wait here while I retrieve Zeus.”
