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Again he eyed her as though puzzled, but seemed to shrug it off as he inclined his head and said, “Right then, I repeat, sweet lass, I am most humbly at your service.”
“Charmingly said, but I think I know the only service you want to offer,” she said on a grimace.
He burst out laughing and then looked her over, “Indeed, I know ye are American, but lass, ye have a lively mind and mouth.” Saying this, he had her arms gently in his hands as he brought her close and pressed her breasts against his rock hard body. She didn’t struggle. She found she couldn’t struggle because she damn well didn’t want to. Everything about this man excited her and she hadn’t been ‘excited’ in a very long time.
Her eyelids got lazy and she felt that electric current she had experienced before when she looked at him. It shot through her and she swore she could feel the sizzle tinge her skin and light up her blood. She thought of Mellencamp’s song, Hurt So Good. This is what it hurt so good meant and it did, yes it did. He didn’t try to kiss her this time. This time his lips were at her ear and he murmured, “Exerilla Radley of America, ye have secrets as we all do, but lass, yers I’ll bet are worth the effort. I doona think we are not destined to meet over and over again…”
Exerilla’s heart began pounding against her chest, her mind began racing. ‘What was he saying? What did he mean? And most definitely, what the frigging heck?’
* * *
The main galley of the Red Bull was full to overflowing with gentlemen and to Exerilla’s way of thinking, all of them seemed more than a little festive, for a lazy spring afternoon. None of them looked like farmers. Farmers would be out tending their crops. Besides, from the way they were dressed, she took them for what they were, gentry.
She overheard them talking and realized most of them were not locals. Apparently most of them were there for the cock fight that was scheduled to take place in the recesses of the inn’s rear courtyard that very evening. She winced at the thought.
Exerilla found a great many stares directed at her as she made her way through, but they seemed more curious than leering still, she did feel mildly uncomfortable. Lord Scotsman seemed to take umbrage, glaring at them till they hurriedly looked away as he led her to a private dining chamber.
It was as though he had taken possession of her as he gently steered her through and saw to her immediate comforts. She couldn’t deny being impressed.
She was in fact, aware of a very deep sensation of gratitude. Just what did a poor woman do when she was alone in this century and needed to stop for a respite?
He saw her within the chamber, saw her seated on a velvet cushioned chair near the low burning fire in the small hearth and stopped to touch her shoulder reassuringly. His blue eyes were alive with concern and his dark brows were drawn in a frown. “I am sorry, Miss Radley, I did not realize the inn
would be so crowded at this time of day. The men seem to be enjoying a bit of sport but none will bother ye. More of a sporting tavern, ye see, as the stagecoach never really stops here.” He sighed. “It will all be over soon. Sir Jacob is mollifying the coachman right now with a bit of the ready and a hearty meal. That done, his horses rested, he will drive ye off to Dover to meet yer people with no more harm done.”
“That sounds like a plan but it isn’t, not for me,” she shook her head and sighed. “First of all, I can only wonder what those men out there think, seeing you escort me in here alone. In this day and age, things like that aren’t done. Secondly, ‘my people’ as you call them,” she had put the words in quote with her fingers. “Will not be there to meet me as I doubt they can just stay about the stagecoach depot and wait all evening.”
He frowned as she spoke and again she realized she would have to play her part a bit better. She was saved by a young serving girl who entered with a tray laden with refreshments.
“Ah,” he said as he poured a glass of wine, got on one knee and handed it to Exerilla. “A truce, Miss Exerilla Radley?”
He shook her to her core.
Everything he did, totally and completely caught her off her guard. She took the glass because she damn well needed it and said, “Oh please, get up.” She couldn’t prevent the tickle in her throat from escaping as she ruefully smiled.
“I’d rather pull you down here with me,” he said raising his eyes to hers before he started to rise.
They were interrupted at this juncture by a male voice at the door his lordship had left wide open. “Food! Damn, but you are a smart fellow, Hunter ole boy.’ Then, as the young man she knew to be Sir Jacob spied Exerilla demurely seated by the fire, he promptly turned a bright shade of red and lamely mumbled, “Oh…oh, well, hallo.”
“Jacob, allow me to introduce Miss Exerilla Radley to ye. The poor lass was Jerry’s prisoner during his harrowing drive and I am trying to make it up to her.” He inclined his head, “Miss Radley, Sir Jacob Cressly.”
Sir Jacob seemed overcome with guilt as he stammered incoherently and bent his head toward her in his attempt to apologize and finally managed, “Miss Radley, what you must think of us? I…oh well, what can I say? I do beg your forgiveness.”
He didn’t look much older than she was herself and she could see that he truly was embarrassed. She smiled and waved it off, “Well, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Uh-oh,” his lordship said ruefully. “Not his fault, but mine? I should like to know the road ye took to get to that one.”
“You are older and should have stopped your awful friend. Sir Jacob is probably my age, and no doubt has been allowed to think that other one is just a blood out for sport.” She turned to Jacob, “But you know, sir, that is not the way to look at it when you force people to endure your sport. One doesn’t engage in sport at others expense. Think about that.” She eyed him and although she thought that he looked sufficiently abashed, added, “It is all well and good to go out and have a jolly old time when you don’t drag unwilling people into your game. What you did was short of kidnapping.” She wanted to send her message home, for she could see he wasn’t a bad sort. She couldn’t figure out what he was doing keeping company with a creep like the one called Jerry Swit and for that matter, a player like MacTorry.
Sir Jacob had by now been slain both by her ‘take command and motherly diatribe’ and her spirit. His manner immediately became deferential as he said, “You are, of course, absolutely in the right of it. I can only attempt to make up for our conduct by personally seeing you safely to your destination.”
“Nonsense,” X said waving this off. “As long as your friend is finished driving the stage, I am hopeful of freshening up and going along as I originally planned.”
“Nevertheless, I shall personally attend you as your outrider,” he looked at Hunter. “We all will.”
“Indeed, Jacob, it is the least we can do,” Hunter responded and once again, Exerilla noted a devilish twinkle in his eyes.
A shuffling step brought their heads around to find Jerry Swit at the open doorway. He looked very pleased with himself and ready for another frolic. It occurred to Exerilla, that this was a very bad man. All her senses were repulsed by him and not just because of his recent behavior. She did not get a wave of evil from him, but she got one of devilry at any cost. Her natural instincts and magical components said this was a selfish and possibly dangerous man. She cold shouldered him and refused to look his way.
