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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Hours had passed and Clara still hardly knew how to feel.
Ralph had possibly given up an earldom to take her to her mother? What did a woman do with that?
She’d like to toss herself into his lap and kiss every inch of his face until she made it to his lips. But somehow, she doubted Marcus would approve. That thought almost made her smile.
But after she was done kissing Ralph, what then? Yes, he was a good man. But he’d lied to her for days, and that mattered too. She’d been used by him as a means to an end and her heart still hurt. Especially after everything with Kinross.
She looked at her brother, who’d leaned back in his seat, at least attempting to sleep. Did he think Kinross a killer? Yes, Kinross was a selfish person and he didn’t love his father, but to murder him?
Clara shook her head. She’d been proven woefully naive on this trip, but somehow she couldn’t believe that.
Then again, if someone had told her that she’d fall in love with the man behind the Bushy Hero, she’d never have believed that, either. Ralph—the Bushy Hero. The man she’d fantasized about for months and she’d kissed him. Been held in his arms. Drat. He’d even saved her on more than one occasion.
Night was falling and as darkness filled the carriage, she leaned her head against Ralph’s shoulder. She had a desperate need to touch him. Her spinning thoughts had left her tired and confused.
Thankfully, Ralph had stayed next to her, Marcus not raising any protest, and she was so thankful now.
As her cheek rested against him, her eyes fluttered closed. His scent wrapped about her, but her thoughts didn’t quiet. He’d hardly known her when he’d lied. And here he was, trying to protect her so that she’d reach her mother. If she was attempting to hold on to her anger, that was a losing battle. “Are you cold without your coat?”
He chuckled softly, keeping his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her in the loveliest way. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry I ruined it.”
His lips grazed her forehead, so light she wondered if she’d dreamed the touch. Except a tingling radiated out from the spot. “It was no bother.”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “So…you’re really him.”
“Well, as I said, there isn’t actually a him. And if there were, Wyatt would be him. I was more support.”
Her hand automatically came to his biceps and, without his coat, her fingers easily traced the bulging muscles under his shirt. “Wyatt did most of the fighting?”
Despite the dark, she saw him grin down at her. “I specialize in groups.”
“Groups?”
“Fighting lots of men at once.”
Her fingers tightened around his arm. She didn’t want to think any more tonight. She wasn’t getting anywhere anyway with the spots swirling uselessly about. What she wanted to do was feel him. His lips, the strength of his body, the feel of being pressed to his chest.
She slid her glance over to Marcus, who appeared to sleep, but was he pretending?
She brushed her fingers up Ralph’s biceps, tracing the thick muscle at his shoulder. Without realizing, she’d tilted her chin up toward him, and with his face angled down, their breath mingled, their lips only an inch apart.
Could she kiss him now? What would happen if she did?
His mouth drifted even closer, so close she could almost feel his lips, even as she traced his collarbone to his cravat. She circled the knot, wishing to loosen the silk, pull the cloth free, and dip her hand beneath the collar. What would his skin feel like?
“Who goes there?” the driver’s voice cut through the night, and the carriage slowed to a stop. Clara would have surely lurched forward but Ralph held her fast in the seat.
For the span of a moment, his arms were around her, warm and safe, and then he was up, pushing her brother from his seat and lifting the bench to the storage beneath.
Without a word, he handed her brother a pistol and then grabbed two for himself, loading them with an efficiency that left her breathless.
Distantly, she heard the rough voices of men, but she didn’t pay them any mind until a shot rang out in the night. Clara swallowed a scream.
Tucking the pistols in his belt, Ralph grabbed two short swords and then he swung the door open, disappearing into the night.
