Read Online A Most Delicate Pursuit by Pamela Labud - Free Book Online
Authors: Pamela Labud
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said, pulling his jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Besides, you look about to tumble over. Let’s find a spot to rest before we both fall flat.”
In spite of his efforts to appear noble, Michael felt unsteady. Their hasty retreat, the long hours in the carriage, the attack, and their flight through the night had taken their toll on his reserves.
Though there was much to do to secure the cabin, he knew he’d have to get some sleep soon or he’d collapse. That was the last thing any gentleman wanted to do in front of a lady.
Luckily, he’d found another stack of hay. Covering it with the last blanket, he beat the straw to make sure nothing else shared his bed. The fading lights of the evening shone through the cracks in the thatched roof, which he’d have to fix tomorrow. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, or else they’d be soaked before daylight. A chilly breeze passed through the room. It was going to be a very cold night as it was.
Somewhere in the depth of his sleep, Michael heard rustling, and a few seconds later he felt the warm body of another next to him. Following his natural inclination, he rolled to his side and pulled his companion toward him, enfolding her into his embrace and doubling their warmth. Drifting back to sleep, he heard Beatrice’s soft sigh and felt her melt into his arms. For a time, he let all of their concerns ebb away.
—
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but Bea woke with a start. Aroused by the sound of rustling trees, birdsong, and a nearby hive of bees, she couldn’t discern where she was, let alone how she’d gotten there. Then, suddenly aware of her surroundings, the events of the past day came rushing into her mind. The ball, her flight from that devil Bainbridge, Michael’s rescue, she and Michael’s flight into the darkness only to be attacked hours later, both of them barely escaping with their lives, and the long, terrible ride to the cottage.
None of that bothered her as much as where she found herself—tucked neatly into a pile of raggedy blankets and in the arms of a man. Well, not just any man.
A solid, strong man. One who both frightened and amazed her. When they’d first met, she’d often dreamed of sharing his bed. Of what he would be like when they made love. Of how a life with him as her husband would be.
“Silly girl,” she muttered under her breath. How could she be such a ninny?
“Mmm.” She heard her friend moan. “Morning already?” he asked, stretching and yawning wide.
Dear heavens, she thought, could he look any more adorable?
“I’m not sure of the time,” she mumbled, scooting away from him and pulling the blanket up against the chill.
“What?” He jumped, suddenly surprised, likely by their both sharing the same pile of straw and his being in such close proximity to a semi-clothed woman.
“Oh dear,” she said, looking down and seeing herself wearing nothing but her shift. “My clothes…”
“…are drying by the fireplace.” He pointed toward the now-dead embers.
It was then that the entire flight from Summerton cut through her sleep-muddled brain.
“You helped me undress…”
“I held up a blanket for you. All very innocent. And, as far as coming to my bed”—he wiggled his eyebrows at her—“that was your decision as well.”
She sent him a scornful glance. “I was cold. Very cold.”
“And I was most accommodating.”
The man could be most aggravating. Bea crossed her arms. “Yes, you were. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
He grinned and, springing from his, uh, their bed, she reminded herself, he went about the cabin, first stoking the fire and then handing her the clothing.
Looking around, she saw the cabin had gone a long time without inhabitants. Well, of the two-legged variety. There were signs of wildlife everywhere. The roof thatching was home to several varieties of birds who, judging by their incessant chattering, were not happy with sharing their home. Also,
In spite of his efforts to appear noble, Michael felt unsteady. Their hasty retreat, the long hours in the carriage, the attack, and their flight through the night had taken their toll on his reserves.
Though there was much to do to secure the cabin, he knew he’d have to get some sleep soon or he’d collapse. That was the last thing any gentleman wanted to do in front of a lady.
Luckily, he’d found another stack of hay. Covering it with the last blanket, he beat the straw to make sure nothing else shared his bed. The fading lights of the evening shone through the cracks in the thatched roof, which he’d have to fix tomorrow. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, or else they’d be soaked before daylight. A chilly breeze passed through the room. It was going to be a very cold night as it was.
Somewhere in the depth of his sleep, Michael heard rustling, and a few seconds later he felt the warm body of another next to him. Following his natural inclination, he rolled to his side and pulled his companion toward him, enfolding her into his embrace and doubling their warmth. Drifting back to sleep, he heard Beatrice’s soft sigh and felt her melt into his arms. For a time, he let all of their concerns ebb away.
—
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but Bea woke with a start. Aroused by the sound of rustling trees, birdsong, and a nearby hive of bees, she couldn’t discern where she was, let alone how she’d gotten there. Then, suddenly aware of her surroundings, the events of the past day came rushing into her mind. The ball, her flight from that devil Bainbridge, Michael’s rescue, she and Michael’s flight into the darkness only to be attacked hours later, both of them barely escaping with their lives, and the long, terrible ride to the cottage.
None of that bothered her as much as where she found herself—tucked neatly into a pile of raggedy blankets and in the arms of a man. Well, not just any man.
A solid, strong man. One who both frightened and amazed her. When they’d first met, she’d often dreamed of sharing his bed. Of what he would be like when they made love. Of how a life with him as her husband would be.
“Silly girl,” she muttered under her breath. How could she be such a ninny?
“Mmm.” She heard her friend moan. “Morning already?” he asked, stretching and yawning wide.
Dear heavens, she thought, could he look any more adorable?
“I’m not sure of the time,” she mumbled, scooting away from him and pulling the blanket up against the chill.
“What?” He jumped, suddenly surprised, likely by their both sharing the same pile of straw and his being in such close proximity to a semi-clothed woman.
“Oh dear,” she said, looking down and seeing herself wearing nothing but her shift. “My clothes…”
“…are drying by the fireplace.” He pointed toward the now-dead embers.
It was then that the entire flight from Summerton cut through her sleep-muddled brain.
“You helped me undress…”
“I held up a blanket for you. All very innocent. And, as far as coming to my bed”—he wiggled his eyebrows at her—“that was your decision as well.”
She sent him a scornful glance. “I was cold. Very cold.”
“And I was most accommodating.”
The man could be most aggravating. Bea crossed her arms. “Yes, you were. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
He grinned and, springing from his, uh, their bed, she reminded herself, he went about the cabin, first stoking the fire and then handing her the clothing.
Looking around, she saw the cabin had gone a long time without inhabitants. Well, of the two-legged variety. There were signs of wildlife everywhere. The roof thatching was home to several varieties of birds who, judging by their incessant chattering, were not happy with sharing their home. Also,
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