Page 10 of Lord of Mistrust

Chloe nodded and continued with her meal, washing it down with elderflower wine from the small costrel her mother had given her. Despite Dela’s apparent disinterest, she had at least shown some care for her daughter.

It wasn’t the outcome Chloe had hoped for, however. It was imperative that she should not be wed to Lord Brooke, and she hadn’t yet solved that conundrum. Nor had she worked out what to do when she returned home. Her uncle would probably throw her in the cellar and feed her on last week’s pottage and small beer before marching her to the altar with Brooke.

Yet, return home she must, as she had nowhere else to go.

The wagon dipped, and she glanced up briefly from her meal as a gentleman ascended. She froze, stunned, and her pie slipped from her nerveless fingers to the cart’s dirty floor.

What in heaven was he doing here? She turned her face aside, hoping to hide beneath her hat, but it was too late. Sir Robert had spotted her. The next instant, he was crouching at her feet and gathering up the remains of her pie to toss over the side of the wagon.

“I don’t recommend eating alum dust, so best leave that for the rats. Good day to you, my Madam Mystery. Right glad am I that I returned your bag to you if it means seeing you in such fetching feminine apparel.”

He kept his voice low, but it was bright with amusement. Before she could protest, he’d hefted one of the heavy barrels across for a stool, and seated himself right in front of her. She hoped the shade of her hat hid her reddened cheeks. Damnable fellow—how dared he speak to her in such a familiar way?

“Tush, sir. That’s no way to speak to a lady.” Such a shame there were other passengers present. Otherwise, a couple of well-placed kicks to his shins would send him toppling backward—and take that smirk off his face.

“My apologies. Are you bound for London, too? If so, ’tis a happy coincidence, as I go thither myself.”

His nearness unsettled her, so she jutted her chin at him. “I’d have thought a nobleman like you could afford to ride in a litter, or on horseback. Or mayhap you are not the gentleman you claim to be. What do I mean, mayhap? I know you are no gentleman.”

“Pray lower your voice, Mistress.” The sensuous mouth had flattened to a firm line. “I don’t wish to draw attention to either my name or my status. Consider me merely a fellow traveler, unable to resist admiring a beautiful woman. I’m sorry for the loss of your vittles. I shall purchase you something when we make our first halt by way of recompense. And as an apology for… the other thing.”

Damn the man! She’d been trying to forget the way he’d manhandled her last night. Those sure, masculine hands, laid so casually on his knees, had touched her where no one ever had before. To add insult to injury, he’d turned her upside down and stolen a kiss. But he had, at least, returned her belongings—so he was not a complete churl.

He’d leaned closer so they could talk without being overheard, and his proximity was becoming increasingly disturbing. How could she continue the rest of the journey with the man who’d mauled her yesterday mere inches away? If the wagon went through a rut, she’d end up sprawling at his feet or—even worse—upon his lap. And who knew to what ruses he might stoop to see if he could get another kiss or caress her again?

Hah! It was impossible—she’d have to endure his presence for hours. Rising swiftly, she dropped her bag over the wagon’s side, and jumped down. She’d taken no more than two steps toward the carrier to recover her fare when she felt a touch on her arm.

“Where are you going, Madam Mystery?”

If he didn’t want to attract attention, he was going about it the wrong way. A scene between a handsome man and a fair wench was even better than a play—they were sure to be observed.

“I shall find another carrier to take me. I think it for the best.”

“Do you fear me? Pray, let me assure you, there is naught to fear. Yesterday was a misunderstanding, and I acted like a knave. I mean to do penance for it—did I not return your baggage to you? Much as I wished to see you, to converse with you, I deposited it outside your door without troubling your sleep. I beg you, return to the wagon.”

He looked so solemn that she was tempted to trust his sincerity. But she couldn’t have him continue thinking her a whore. A glance back toward the wagon showed the cleric had laid down his book to stare at them. There was no denying her association with Sir Robert now. She ducked her head and moved farther away, toward the archway that led to the Red Lion’s stable yard. He followed her.

“How can I be anywhere near you after you molested me? You’re a villainous scoundrel, and I want you to leave me alone. And no more lewd suggestions, I pray. I am not, as I said before, what you think me.”

He pulled a wry face. “I can’t believe that a gently bred woman would do to me what you did yesterday—I bear the ache of it still. But let us not be enemies. Allow me to make my heartfelt apology. Shall we agree that I deserved my punishment and you need give me no quarter if I misbehave again?”

He grasped her elbow, propelling her into the shadow below the archway. Creaks and jingles reached her ears from the direction of the alum cart—they’d have to resolve their dispute quickly, or both would lose their transportation.

She lifted her head. “You have my ear. But be speedy.”

“Very well. Pray, don’t delay your journey on my account. I swear I won’t talk to you, unless you wish it. I shall—covertly—assign myself the role of your protector, as a lady should never travel alone. But if you detest me that much, I’ll find another means of getting to London.”

Pretty words. But could she trust him? His initial kindness, after her accident, had rapidly turned to mistrust at his ill-use of her. How could she put her faith in someone who didn’t believe her?

She decided to press him further. “What in heaven made you think I’d stolen your locket? I know I was dressed as a boy, but that didn’t make me a thief.”

He spread his hands. “I know, I know. The locket was restored to me when I reached my lodgings. It had been stolen, but not by you. Here. Can you understand why it’s so precious to me?”

He tugged at his neck and produced an ornate golden jewel suspended from a twisted cord. Snapping it open to reveal the portrait inside, he held it out to her. But getting a good look would mean coming too close to those muscular arms, those knowing hands. She nodded and stepped away, her breath coming in quick bursts.

“The jewel was taken from you after I collapsed?”

“While we were all fussing about you, aye.”