The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (71 page)

He turned his head toward the carriage wall. He had no intention of using this particular servant girl. She’d dealt with enough, considering that Hepplewort had nearly killed her in sport, leaving her for dead and covered with reminders. He clenched his jaw and forced that image from his mind, but the fact that he’d recognized her appealing features was definitely a step in the right direction—back to his former self. He chuckled. His brother’s shenanigans had definitely put a kink in his rakish lifestyle. Perry put his feet up on the seat next to Lilly. Giving her a quick nod, he attempted to go back to sleep.

Clearly dismissed, Lilly sank into the bench, willing the pounding of her heart to subside as she settled in. He was strikingly tall in comparison to her, yet she was a mere breath above a child’s height even at the age of eighteen. Her nose had met the top button of his deep purple waistcoat as she looked him over brazenly.

She knew it to be true that he was recognized as a rake all through England, and most of Scotland, even though she was unsure just what that meant. Her parents only said it meant he was someone to stay away from. A man with no true moral compass.

It was also true he was handsome; not merely an off-the-shelf type of eye catcher, but absolutely turn-your-head-and-lose-your-breath stunning. Her fingers itched to touch the rough edge of his jaw, the soft curl just behind his ear. His nose had a slight bend to the left—probably from some discretionary fight, as she couldn’t imagine a man who could overtake him to land such a hit; and a faded scar on his right cheekbone. His lips were thick and full as his tongue darted out to wet them—as though his mouth had gone suddenly dry.

He straightened a bit and a lock of inky black hair fell over one of his wide green eyes. It startled her—as she thought he’d been sleeping—and she shuddered, abruptly remembering her place and the fact that she was at his mercy. And under his gaze. She drew in a breath as she felt a tumble in her belly. At some point she was going to have to be more careful around him. His eyes narrowed on her then closed, and she let out the breath she didn’t know she’d held.

With that exhale came the thought that she was well and truly on her way to London. Away from all the well-meaning people who would still end up suffocating her. She loved her family, her sister in particular, for everything they had done for her since her injury, but she could no longer stomach the attention. She wanted to get back to where she’d been before all of that.

She had never been one to be handled. She could keep up with both of her older brothers. She rode with them, practiced shot with them, built barns and troughs with them. She was simply one of the boys, just as Meggie had been. But ever since the incident it had been different.

She was protected. Not let out of anyone’s sight. Daniel wouldn’t have her—he wouldn’t so much as look at her, had stopped coming to the house after what happened, wouldn’t sit with her in church, didn’t say even one word to her. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for him.

What that man had done was taken her future and smashed it like crystal upon a stone. The remnants remained scattered, and she couldn’t very well chase after each one and put them back together. She could see the rainbows of her former dreams cast about her, but couldn’t quite reach one before it disappeared. She wanted that tumble in her belly to lead her to love, not to fear.

She looked across the carriage to the viscount. He was not Daniel; he was much more than him. Daniel was all muted colors and soft lines. He was comfortable, safe. She had known him all her life and knew he was to be her future. He’d spent more time with her family than his own when not caring for his animals, and the fact that they would be married was simply accepted.

But when everything changed... She closed her eyes and considered. She had decided to leave Kelso for a position at Eildon, hopeful that away from her home she might be treated normally. It didn’t happen that way, though, because they all knew about her since Meggie was already an underservant to the duke. It was hard not to know who she was, anyway, with the tell-tale scars. She wanted to disappear, and when she’d found her chance by stowing away in this carriage, she’d taken it.

She opened her eyes on the viscount. She had seen the brothers when she was a child, as her mother had brought her to visit her father when he was in charge of the Eildon stables. Lord Trumbull was always a sight. Tall and broad, loud and brash, while his brother always loomed, quiet, watching. The viscount wasn’t all that much older than she, but as children it was enough. He had once taken her for a ride across the fields, and she still remembered the way he moved with the horse, the thrill of that ride. From that day she had refused to wear skirts or ride like a proper girl, much to her parents’ disappointment.

Lilly’s gaze followed the lines of his trousers to the hands held securely in his lap. Even at rest he seemed fully aware of his surroundings.

She felt her eyelids growing heavy and she shifted in the seat, trying to get comfortable. Her legs were much too short to stretch across like his, so she turned and curled her feet beneath her, leaning into the corner. She hadn’t even fallen fully asleep before she was tossed across the carriage at him. He woke with a start when she landed across his lap.

“I beg pardon,” she squeaked as she pushed away from his hard chest and fell to the floor once again. What was it about contact with this man that made her feel so insufficient?

“I do hope you’ll not be ending up on the floor every time the carriage stops,” he grunted, reaching for her.

“Pardon, milord,” she said again, steadying herself.

“You really must stop that, I’ve no doubt the reason you’ve ended up on the floor is not by your doing.”

The carriage door jerked open and a sheet of rain came in. Perry watched Kerrigan’s face harden when he saw Lilly at his feet, before she scampered back to her corner of the cabin.

Perry cursed. “What now?” he asked stiffly, straining to hear the outrider over the din.

“My lord, the road is out. We should turn back te Gretna,” Kerrigan said.

Perry nodded and the door closed. The carriage swayed then lurched as they turned around in the muddy road, jolting across the heavy ruts and tossing Lilly like a ragdoll as Perry held on. When the circuit was complete he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes in an attempt to relieve the sudden pressure. The way this was going, there was no chance Lilly’s reputation would survive this night intact.

Once at the inn, Perry left his men with the carriage and pointed to some cases for the inn’s boy to bring inside. He pulled Lilly through the entry behind him. He scanned the rough crowd as she latched onto the back of his greatcoat. He could feel her trembling through the heavy fabric.

The innkeeper approached, rubbing his hands together as if in anticipation of polishing the coin he was to receive.

“Two rooms,” Perry said as Lilly buried her face in the crook behind his arm.

“O’ course, milaird, the best o’ them for you and your lady,” he said with a crooked smile.

Perry grunted as he looked over the dregs in the great room. “We shall sup in my room, if you would be so good as to send up a tray, and see to my men.”

The innkeeper handed him two heavy brass keys as he pointed out the hallway at the top of the main staircase. Perry took the keys and reached back, pulling Lilly along so closely she stumbled.

He unlocked the first door and entered the room. He released Lilly and left her at the threshold, timid as a mouse, as he removed his gloves and hat and watched her… waiting.

She didn’t move.

“My dear Lilly, it will not do for you to stand in the doorway for the rest of the night. I should like to at least have the privacy it brings,” Perry said as he tossed his greatcoat aside.

“Yes, milord,” she said with a curtsey. “I just, I never… I—” She shuffled a bit and Perry walked over, taking her by the shoulders and moving her to the side so he could reach behind her and shut the door firmly.

She stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“I am not entirely sure why you look on me as though I intend you harm,” he said. And then, because he was quite obviously a cad and not at all a gentleman, he cursed.

Loudly.

He clenched his eyes and turned abruptly, shaking his head at the second callous slip of his tongue. Considering she was already sufficiently and tragically ruined—and not by her choice or his doing—he felt like an ass for doing a damn fine job of reminding her of the injury.

“I can assure you, your modesty is safe with me.” He walked across the room, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t accustomed to the addressing of innocents. His conversational skills were more suited to the pub, the whorehouse, and the bedchamber. The strain of this conversation was bringing on a headache.

“Milord, I trust you. His Grace is most honorable and I know that of course you’d be much the—”

She stopped, considering how everyone talked about the brothers and how alike they were—by sight alone. His Grace was honorable, that much was true, but his lordship, this man— She choked back a sob. She’d no idea what a true London rake was, and her meager flattery wasn’t bound to sway his intentions—if he held any.

If the viscount set himself on her, she had no hope of getting out of his room unscathed, regardless of his declaration to the contrary. Her breath hitched and she spoke quietly. “Milord, I’ll do whatever ‘tis needed of me for you to take me to London.” She clenched her eyes in fear as she raised her hands in front of her.

Lilly felt a breeze as Perry turned on her and made the distance between them naught in a mere two pounding steps. “Damnation, Lilly, I’ve no intention of—of whatever it is you think my intention is. I recognize I’ve a reputation, but I’ll have you know every participant in the establishment of that reputation was not only willing but enthusiastic and much appreciative,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “The only reason you are currently in my chamber is because the crowd below watched every move you made once we entered this godforsaken inn.”

His voice calmed slightly as he shook his head, then he took her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “I have no idea the extent to which Hepplewort damaged your mind and your body. But I promise you this… The only thing to be damaged in this room is my pride.
You
are perfectly safe. With me. Tonight.”

He dropped her chin and she melted at his feet in a pile of grey woolen fabric. “Mi—milord, I beg you, please— Forget what I say. Please, I only—I never— The things he said to me, the things he expected…” She sobbed: heavy, wracking, movements that tore her breath from her lungs with every heaving shift. “Milord, please, I beg you, I’d no right to speak, I— Please, m-milord, please forget what I said.” She grabbed the legs of his trousers, leaning her forehead against his knees as she cried.

“Well I, for one, expect nothing, and all will be forgotten, just as soon as you get off the floor. You have spent entirely too much time at my feet.” He reached down and lifted her gently. She pushed at the lapels of his jacket, the shock of his hands on her burning through her memories. Then she breathed and caught the heady scent of him, the rain, the starch in his collar, something beneath that. It calmed her and she suddenly buried her head in his chest. She sank against him and he lifted her—lest she end on the floor again—and carried her to the bed. He laid her down, managing the release of her hold on his jacket before turning back to one of the well-worn chairs in front of the large fireplace.