Page 48 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

She knew Nathan was right to call it off—she may have resigned herself to never again feeling what she once had with Sloane, but Nathan didn’t deserve that. He deserved so much more than half her love. He should have an equal partner, a woman who loved him as much as he loved her. And now that he had dropped his long-held pursuit of Annabeth, he could find that woman. But she knew that in this moment, Nathan was hurting, and for that, she hurt as well.

It hardly seemed real. A few weeks ago, she had envisioned a rosy but practical future. Instead of living under her grandmother’s rule, she would have her own family with someone she cared about and knew would make a great father. A father as sweet and loving as her own had been.

Yet here she was now, not embarking on that imagined future, but sliding into an exciting but dangerous past with a man she should not trust.

Riding this way with Sloane, her body pressed against his back, she was flooded with memories as well as present sensations—the smooth movement of the horse beneath them, the heat of Sloane’s body, the very scent and feel of Sloane against her.

It wasn’t even dawn, but Annabeth was wide awake, energized by their secret flight and the possibilities that lay in front of them. She supposed she should not feel this excitement in doing such a risky thing; it was scarcely the emotion of a proper lady. But she could not deny the appeal of tackling the unknown, of discovery, and, yes, even the touch of danger.

Nor could she deny that her breath quickened and her nerves danced at being this close to Sloane, at feeling his hard, muscled body against her arms. Instinctively she started to tighten her arms around him and lay her head against his back, but quickly stopped. This was not the past. They were not what they had once been.

They left the trees and rode through a darkened village, then turned onto a faint trail that was one of the ancient tracks that ran through Britain. It was still dark when Sloane left the track and finally stopped in front of a farmhouse. There were no signs of life until a young man emerged from the ramshackle barn and came toward them, pulling off his cap and nodding to Sloane. “Sir. You made good time.”

“Yes. It went smoothly.” Sloane dismounted and came around to assist Annabeth. She felt a blush rising in her face as he put his hands at her waist and lifted her down. She stepped away from him as soon as her feet touched the ground, but her legs were stiff from the unaccustomed riding, and she stumbled. Sloane wrapped his hand around her arm to keep her from falling. His hand lingered for a moment, then fell away, and he turned to the groom. “Did you have any problems?”

“No, sir. The team’s in fine fettle. The bags are inside.”

“Good. Feed and rub down Carrot.” Sloane stroked the horse’s neck fondly. “Let him rest and ride him home tomorrow.”

“Aye, sir.” The man nodded again and led the horse away.

“Carrot?” Annabeth couldn’t keep from laughing. “The rough and dangerous smuggler-spy named his horse Carrot?”

Sloane’s lips twitched. “Well, he has a grander name, but that’s what the lads call him. He has a fondness for the vegetable.” He turned toward the house. “Come. You can get a couple hours of sleep at least, and we’ll leave after sunrise for the Haverstocks’.”

“It doesn’t seem very secret to travel during the day.”

“The main thing was to get you out of Stonecliffe in secret and leave our enemy watching that house, and we’ve done that. From now on it’s important that we protect your reputation. If anyone should happen to spot us together in a curricle, it would be far worse if it was at night. Besides, we’ll make better time in the day and you need to rest.”

“What is this place? Who lives here?” Annabeth asked as they walked into the house.

“It belongs to someone I know,” Sloane replied, picking up the lantern that sat by the door and lighting it.

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Someone who owes me a favor, or at least believes they do. You wouldn’t recognize the name. They’re ordinary people, the sort I know.” The lantern lit his face oddly, casting shadows that made him impossible to read.

“You talk as though we live in two completely separate worlds,” Annabeth protested. “As if I didn’t know any ‘ordinary’ people. You and I grew up together.”

“And I left that world a long time ago. Of course you know ordinary people—servants or, say, a girl who sells you a hat in the milliner’s shop. Maybe a doctor or solicitor. People on the fringes of your existence. I live with them.”

“I’m not a snob,” Annabeth said, stung.

“I know you are not. You are kind and pleasant to everyone. All I’m saying is that you belong in Mayfair. And I belong on the docks.” He turned away before she could respond and strode across the hallway to an open door. “Wright set up a cot for you in one of the bedrooms.”

“What happened to the people that live here? Where are they?” Annabeth asked as she entered the small room, which was empty except for a cot and blankets and the baggage she had given Sloane yesterday.

“Don’t worry.” Sloane’s tone was remote, cold. “I’m not going to try to ravish you.”

Annabeth lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you would.” Clearly Sloane was determined to take anything she said the wrong way.

“Yes, well...you shouldn’t take such things for granted,” he said gruffly.

“You’re saying I should be afraid you would make unwelcome advances?”

“No, of course not. You know I wouldn’t.” His jaw tightened, and he looked away, adding in a quiet voice, “But this morning, when I saw you, I wanted to.”

Annabeth’s pulse quickened. What was she to say to that? She couldn’t tell him that in that first instant when she awoke, she had been flooded with joy. Before she remembered who and where they were.