Scandalous Summer Nights (10 page)

I
’m not certain how to state this delicately,” Olivia began, “but I’m afraid I must excuse myself for a few moments.”

James shot her a puzzled look. “Why would you—” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

She had lent her cloak to Hildy, but no matter. The torrential rain had given way to a light sprinkle. And truth be told, she could use a little cooling off. She scooted toward the door, but unfortunately, James blocked her path.

And he showed no sign of giving way.

“The coachman could return at any time now,” he said.

“Or we could wait here another hour,” she pointed out.

James scratched his chin, making Olivia recall the sweetly abrasive brush of his jaw along her neck. “You cannot walk on your ankle.”

“I did earlier.”

“And how did that feel?”

Like a blacksmith had laid her foot on an anvil and lowered his hammer on it. “Fine.”

He arched a brow.

“I managed.”

“Yes. You always do,” he said. “But you might try leaning on other people once in a while.”

“And you want me to lean on
you
? For
this
?”

“You don’t need to lean. I’ll carry you.”

Olivia imagined James slinging her over his shoulder, traipsing across a muddy field, and depositing her beside a shrub suitable for her purposes. She could think of few things more horrifying. “I would prefer to do this on my own.”

He stared at her for several moments, and Olivia wondered if he would indeed let her pass. Then he exhaled slowly. “Very well. But at the very least you’ll need my help getting over the fence.”

Good Lord. There was a fence? “Thank you,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

James opened the door of the coach and backed out of it as though he were afraid to take his eyes off Olivia, even for a second. She slid down the bench toward the door and grasped the side of the coach, bracing herself as she prepared to put weight on her bad ankle. Recalling the stinging pain of walking on it earlier, she hesitated.

James frowned. “Please. Let me carry you.”

Though it was hard to deny him anything he asked—especially when his soulful eyes took on that pleading-puppy look—she shook her head. “My ankle is just a little stiff from the hours spent in the coach. It will loosen up.”

And with that, she moved toward the door. As she stepped forward, crouched over so as to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling, she carefully balanced on her good foot. When she cautiously tested her right, she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from howling in pain like a wounded animal.

James scowled his disapproval, and before Olivia could protest, he unceremoniously grabbed her beneath her arms and hauled her from the coach. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck as her body pressed against his. Secure in his embrace, she relaxed and surrendered to the attraction that instantly ignited between them.

Slowly, she slid down his body. Her breasts, originally at James’s eye level, traveled over his muscled chest and down his torso. When her feet—or rather, foot—touched the ground, he made no move to release her. Instead, his arms circled her completely, holding her firmly against him. Olivia was transfixed by his perfect mouth and his hungry expression. The mist that fell from the sky did nothing to cool the heat between them, and the evidence of his desire pressed against her belly. Wanton that she was, she leaned into him, reveling in the feminine power she wielded over him.

Cursing softly, he kissed her forehead and loosened his hold. Olivia smiled to mask her disappointment as he looked up and down the road. “Let’s head in that direction,” he said, pointing toward a copse of trees in a nearby field.

Of course,
nearby
was a relative term. Yesterday, when she had two perfectly good ankles, she would have labeled the small grove as “nearby.” Now it was more like a faraway and distant land.

“Very well.” She did not bother refusing his help—not when a formidable-looking, chest-high wooden fence stood between her and her destination. He wrapped an arm around her and walked slowly, stopping after every few steps to make sure she wasn’t in excruciating pain.

It
did
hurt, but with James’s help she made it to the fence. They paused there, and while Olivia considered the least embarrassing manner of scaling it, James easily swung his legs over the top and landed like a cat on the other side.

Holding out his arms, he said, “Step onto the bottom rail with your good foot and then I’ll lift you over.”

Olivia eyed him warily. She trusted him to get her over the fence safely. What she doubted was his willingness to allow her to make the rest of the journey on her own. “Fine. But you must promise me that you will remain at the fence.”

He turned to look at the trees, a good fifty yards away. “That’s a long way for you to walk by yourself.”

“You must promise.”

Muttering under his breath, James nodded and waved her forward. She’d no sooner climbed onto the lowest rail when he scooped her up, one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees. He held her so firmly against his chest that she could feel the steady thump of his heart against her shoulder. The mist had turned into more of a sprinkle, and tiny droplets clung to James’s lashes, making him look like a younger, beardless version of Poseidon.

“You may put me down now.”

He looked at the grove again. “Just a little farther?” He inched his way toward the trees.

“You promised!”

He halted, regret plain on his face, and lowered her gently to the ground, which squished beneath her slippers. “I’ll wait right here,” he said. “If you need me, just call my name.”

“Will you face the road, please?”

With a sigh, James turned and leaned his elbows on the fence.

“Thank you.”

Her leg almost buckled with the first step she took, so she began to hop on her good foot. She had to lift the hem of her skirt, and she shuddered to think how ridiculous she must look. But soon she was too exhausted from jumping to dwell on her embarrassment. And even though hopping caused less pain than walking, it still jarred her foot so that she clenched her jaw each time she landed.

Twice, she paused to rest before continuing on. The bottom three inches of her traveling gown were soaked, and her slippers were so muddy they were beyond recognition. When at last she reached the privacy of the little wooded area, she saw to her needs—an awkward affair to say the least—and leaned back against a large tree to catch her breath.

In the last quarter hour the cloudy sky had darkened rapidly; Olivia could barely make out the shape of the coach in the distance. The muscles in her good leg quivered from her exertions and protested at the thought of crossing the field again. She could have crawled if she weren’t encumbered by skirts.

There was no help for it. She would have to hop all the way back, in a pitiful imitation of a kangaroo.

She pushed herself away from the tree, took a big
leap forward, and heard a sickening
rip
—the unmistakable rending of fabric. With no small amount of dread, she turned to look behind her. A handkerchief-sized scrap of striped silk stuck to the trunk, which meant it was
not
where it should be—namely, covering her backside.

“Damn.” The closest cow, which lay some distance away, shot her a condescending glare and mooed.

Olivia’s dress was beyond repair, but really, that was the least of her worries. Her chemise covered her legs somewhat but it was so wet that it was almost transparent.

She resolved to ignore any concerns about modesty for now and concentrate on making her way back to James and the coach. With strength born out of sheer desperation, she clutched the front of her dress to raise her hem… and hopped. She hopped and hopped until James came into sharper focus. She considered calling out to him for help, but she’d come this far—what was a few more yards? He leaned casually against the fence, his broad shoulders narrowing to slim hips and lean, muscular legs. The tails of his jacket covered his bottom, but she knew, even without seeing it, that it was perfectly sculpted and firm.

Letting her thoughts wander in such a pleasant direction distracted her from the painful straining of her muscles and the throbbing in her right foot
until
she hopped onto her hem and lurched forward.

“Oh!”

James turned at the sound of her scream. Probably just in time to see her tumble head over heels into a puddle of foul-smelling mud.

One hoped it was mud.

Blessedly, she hadn’t hurt herself further. She was, however, covered in muck from her chest down; a few
tendrils of hair had been dipped as well. While James sprinted toward her, looking like some demigod in buckskin breeches, she managed to push herself to a sitting position and scoot her way out of the insidious puddle, which had claimed one of her slippers.

James rushed over and knelt at her side. “What happened?” To his credit, he showed not a hint of disgust at her sludge-covered state.

“While practicing my somersault, I accidentally landed in a pool of mud.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Though I suspect parts of me will be sore tomorrow.”

His gaze slid to the puddle. “What is that blue object floating in the middle?”

“My shoe.” She lifted her chin a bit, daring him to mock her.

“Shall I retrieve it for you?”

She shook her head emphatically. “The cows are welcome to it.”

His green eyes crinkled at the corners, lifting her spirits in spite of everything.

“I’m going to carry you back to the coach,” he said. When she opened her mouth to object, he held up a hand. “We can do this one of two ways. I can carry you like a proper lady, or I can fling you over my shoulder like a sack of grain. Either way, I will carry you. The choice is yours.”

“Your jacket shall be ruined.” Olivia’s bottom lip trembled slightly.

“Do you honestly think I give a damn about my jacket right now?”

“You don’t have a change of clothes with you,” she reminded him.

“Ah, yes,” he said, scooping her up easily. She leaned into him, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. “I recall your hurry to leave Haven Bridge.”

“I’d give anything to be back there now. I wish I could start this day over.” She sniffled suspiciously.

“It hasn’t been all bad, has it?” He looked into her eyes. “I’d say that parts of the day have been outstanding.”

“I suppose,” she said with a distinct lack of conviction. Mud had splattered across her cheek, almost blending with her light smattering of freckles. A few strands of hair were plastered to her neck, and her skin was slick with rain. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, even now—
especially
now—but he didn’t think she’d believe him.

“You’ll feel better once we get you out of these clothes,” he said. “Er, once we’re at the inn, I mean. And you’re in your own room.”

Good God. When had he turned into a bumbling idiot around her?

She arched a brow at him but said nothing. And she looked miserable.

He carried her toward the coach, treading carefully over the uneven, saturated ground. All he wanted was to get her out of the rain and onto a comfortable seat as quickly as possible. He could kick himself for letting this happen. He should have insisted on staying with her—her stubborn pride be damned.

He managed to get her back to the fence without further injury, thank heaven, but there was no way he could scale the fence while holding her.

“You can put me down,” she said.

But she felt so limp and weak in his arms, he doubted her legs would hold her. “Rest a few more minutes,” he said soothingly.

“Mmm,” she murmured into his chest.

Olivia’s eyes fluttered shut, and she seemed to doze off. When his arms grew tired, he leaned against the fence for support. The sky turned dark, and James was just about to rouse her when a cart rumbled slowly down the road toward them.

Help had arrived.

A bearded older man drove the cart, which was drawn by a sturdy pair of mules. Terrence sat beside him, a disapproving scowl on his face. Before the cart had even stopped moving, the coachman jumped down from his seat and rushed to the fence.

He took one look at Olivia’s filthy gown and pale face and shot James an accusatory look. “What’s happened to her?”

Olivia lifted her head. “I’m quite all right, Terrence. I just slipped in the mud. Mr. Averill didn’t want to risk me falling again.”

“Why would you be walking at all with your injured ankle is what I’d like to know,” the coachman began, but then he waved his hand in exasperation. “Never mind, just hand her to me, then,” he said to James. “I’ll make her comfortable in the back of the cart before unloading the coach.”

Though James hated to let her go, he carefully passed Olivia over the fence. Terrence had thought to bring blankets, so James laid one over the mound of damp straw in the back. When the coachman settled Olivia there, James spread the other blanket over her.

“Thank you for rescuing me, Terrence.” Her smile was so sweet and sincere that the coachman’s cheeks flushed red. “But what shall we do about the coach? I don’t like the thought of leaving it here overnight.”

Terrence puffed out his chest. “Don’t give it another thought, my lady. I’ll stay here with the coach. I’ve already had a word with the stable master. He’s going to bring the horses just after dawn so we can take the coach to the village and get the axle inspected. I suspect we’ll be on our way to your aunt Eustace’s tomorrow evening.”

“If you’re to stay in the coach overnight,” Olivia said, “you must take this blanket.” She whipped it off and thrust it at him.

“I couldn’t, Lady Olivia.”

“I insist,” she said firmly, and tossed it to him.

James helped Terrence load the cart with all the items still in the coach, except for the basket of food, which Olivia was adamant the coachman keep for himself.