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Nothing good would come of that. Nothing at all.

Jane bowed her head and urged her horse forward through the rain. She wasn’t sure what had come over her when she’d spread her arms wide and welcomed the drenching storm. All she knew was that something had broken through the hardened veneer of propriety she’d worn for years, and she’d needed to simply enjoy the moment. She was on an adventure. For years she’d wondered if something—anything—interesting would ever happen to her, holding the hope for it to her chest so closely that she’d never told anyone. But now that everything was on the line, she was doing something daring and just a little dangerous. She was living.

She knew how people saw her. Even in her little group of friends, Elizabeth was the dreamy reader, Mary was all bold, cheeky wit, and Jane was the sweet innocent. In some ways it was true. Life hadn’t really happened to her yet. It was as though she’d been rooted in place ever since she’d left school at eighteen. The governess. The teacher. The caregiver. But now, accompanied on this purposeful journey by Lord Hollings, she felt somehow freer.

But he’d been the one to pull her back too. He’d glowered, more than a little grouch to his tone when he’d told her they should find an inn for the night. He didn’t want her there with him. She was a bother, and she was making a spectacle of herself. Governesses weren’t supposed to cast their heads back and laugh wildly. They were supposed to be disciplined and controlled. All at once, her excitement dimmed and the day of riding felt just a little more grueling.

She’d followed slightly behind him as they rode in silence to the yard of a remarkably crowded inn called the Shallow Stream. At least the place looked warm and inviting, with a lamp burning brightly in each window.

Jane pulled the collar of her coat a little higher around her neck and recoiled at the wetness that had seemed so strangely thrilling when the storm broke out on the road. Now she was soaked through and there was nothing she could do about it until she got in front of a fire.

Lord Hollings dismounted and handed his reins off to a stable boy before reaching to help her from the saddle. She took his hand, no longer uncomfortable at his touch, since he’d helped her at every stop that day.

His free hand went to her waist to steady her as she slid down as gracefully as a soggy woman could. It was a good thing too, because the moment her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled.

“Oh!” she cried as she fell into the baron’s broad chest. Somehow one of his strong arms had wrapped itself tightly around her waist, and the other was around her shoulders. It was the perfect imitation of an embrace, made even more intimate by the way her fingers gripped his wet coat.

“Careful, Miss Ephram,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. It wasn’t a warning, but it should have been for the way it sent awareness zinging through her.

She looked up his body, the scent of wool and earth mixing with a growing warmth that touched her very core. Lord Hollings met her gaze, his eyes fixing her in place.

He should kiss me.

It wouldn’t take much—just a lean down and a quick brush of lips over lips. It would be her first kiss, and although she’d never imagined it would happen in the middle of a busy innyard in the rain, now that she was pressed up against Lord Hollings, she found herself far from particular about the location.

She parted her lips just a fraction. That little change must’ve triggered something in the baron, for his eyes hardened and he stepped back just as quickly as she’d fallen into his arms. Still, he didn’t let her go.

Jane’s cheeks flamed. “My apologies, sir. I’m not accustomed to so many hours in the saddle.”

The feeling had come back into her legs, and she shakily straightened.

“It’s my fault,” he said, seemingly unaware that his hand still rested on her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so far on the first day.”

“I wanted you to. We don’t know how much of a head start Lady Margaret has on us, but it wasn’t raining when she set out.”

Just the thought made her spirits fall. In this weather, the probability of catching her charge before she reached Scotland with Mr. Lawrence seemed slim, but Jane had to try. If she could find the couple before they were married, she might be able to convince Lady Margaret of her folly. At worst, she’d figure out how to tell Lord Rawson that Mr. Lawrence had twice tried to abscond with his daughter. One generous payment to the opportunistic man—which she had no doubt he would take—and it would all go away. But first she had to locate the errant debutante.

“We’ll worry about Lady Margaret tomorrow,” said Lord Hollings as he lifted her hand to tuck it into the crook of his arm, never breaking the connection they’d held since she stumbled. “Now let’s see what we can do about rooms and a meal.”

The very mention of food made Jane’s stomach growl in the most undignified manner, but if he heard it over the pounding rain, the baron didn’t mention anything. Instead, he led her through the yard and into the inn’s entryway.

“Good evening,” a small, thin man with a shock of white hair greeted them. His eyes were barely visible from behind the massive ledger that lay on the counter where he was stationed.

“Good evening,” said Lord Hollings. “My wife and I require two rooms for the night.”

Jane started. Wife?

Lord Hollings covered her hand with his and squeezed slightly as though to tell her to play along with his charade. She did her very best to paint on a pleasant, unconcerned smile even as her stomach did flips. Not once in her life had she ever expected to hear a man call her his wife. Not when she’d spent most of her childhood knowing she’d become a governess as soon as she left school. It had been decided for her long ago.

The innkeeper’s expression faltered. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve only got the one room, sir, although it’s a large one. Quite pleasant. Between the storm and the wedding of the vicar’s daughter, it seems the whole world has come to our little village tonight.”

Lord Hollings’s gaze flicked down to hers, and she saw the question in his eyes. One room meant she would have to sleep in close proximity to a man. For the first time. Hang traveling unchaperoned, sharing a room with him would obliterate her reputation, making Jane utterly unemployable if anyone were to find out.

“Is there another inn in town?” Lord Hollings asked, as though sensing her hesitation.

The innkeeper shook his head. “The closest one is the Bull and Branch about five miles south.”

Back the way they’d come. The thought of heading into the storm again, especially when it was dark out and the roads were even slicker with mud, was unfathomable.