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Authors: Miriam Minger
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him to think she had fainted.
"Just as bloody well." The door was barely
opened before Jared lunged from the carriage, Lindsay's weight so slight that
he felt as if he bore no burden at all. "Wait here, man. I'll be no more
than a moment."
So Jared hoped, taking note that the town house
remained dark, no one aware that the beauteous Miss Somerset had been out
sampling the seamier side of London. Treading light as a thief once he entered
the front double doors, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where Lindsay's
bedchamber might be.
"Lindsay, wake up." He shook her, but the
chit slept on within his arms as peacefully as a newborn kitten. "Lindsay,"
he hissed, a bit louder this time. "I need you to show me—"
"I'll lead the way, milord, but on one condition."
Jared spun around, his low oath hanging in the air as a
stout apparition swathed in a prim white night-robe came out from behind the
open door. Matilda, Lady Penney's maid, set her hands squarely on her hips.
"Swear to me ye haven't touched the lass—on pain that yer soul writhe in eternal hellfire if ye lie—and I'll
say nothing of this night's odd business to my mistress. Do ye understand me
well, milord?"
Jared gave a nod, feeling like a green schoolboy under
the Scotswoman's stern scrutiny.
"So do ye bring her back as pure as she left here
or no?"
He swallowed a twinge of anger, wholly unused to
explaining himself to anyone. But he could see, in this instance, that he had
no choice.
"I haven't touched her, or compromised her in any
fashion. On that I give you my word."
Silence reigned for what seemed an interminable moment;
then Matilda finally nodded. "Very well, then, follow me. And take care ye
step where I do, for the stairs squeak like the devil."
Having no idea what this woman's knowledge might
portend for Lindsay, Jared also told himself firmly that it was none of his
concern as he followed Matilda up an imposing staircase. Then came a long hallway, their little trio passing by a closed
door from which emanated the most outrageous snores, until they came at last to
a room at the front of the house.
"This'll be Miss Somerset's bedchamber, not that I
imagine ye'll be seeing it again after this night."
Making no reply to Matilda's thinly veiled reprimand,
Jared carried Lindsay into the decidedly feminine apartment with its lace
curtains and pastel pink wallpaper and laid her on the canopied four-poster,
the bedclothes already turned down as if awaiting her return, a lamp burning
brightly on a side table. Imagining no matter his sworn oath what the Scotswoman
must be thinking to see Lindsay in such bedraggled condition, the smell of ale
and tobacco clinging to her cloak and tousled hair, he decided it was time he
left.
Perhaps even London, he thought darkly, though he knew
that must wait until his business was accomplished.
"Good night to ye, then, Lord Giles," came
Matilda's voice, her back to him as she began to divest a limp Lindsay of her
soiled slippers. "I take it ye can find yer way
out?"
He could tell from the Scotswoman's tone that she didn't
expect an answer, and he didn't give one. His face as grim as she had sounded,
he couldn't wait to leave the house, and when he did, he closed the door firmly
behind him.
As firmly as he trusted Lindsay Somerset was well out
of his life, although, settling once more into the carriage, he couldn't help
thinking that his oath to Matilda hadn't been entirely true.
So he had kissed the chit. Did that make him a liar?
God knows he already had enough transgressions heaped upon his soul to send him
straight to hell.
"Driver, the Boar's Head tavern!" he
commanded the coachman, his gaze drawn to the pale light streaming from the
windows of Lindsay's room even as he made himself look away.
Chapter 7
"Oh, Lord."
Lindsay slumped onto her side and gripped her head, her
low groan sounding as loud to her as the crashing of cymbals. She wondered
weakly if she could open her eyes. She
"Just as bloody well." The door was barely
opened before Jared lunged from the carriage, Lindsay's weight so slight that
he felt as if he bore no burden at all. "Wait here, man. I'll be no more
than a moment."
So Jared hoped, taking note that the town house
remained dark, no one aware that the beauteous Miss Somerset had been out
sampling the seamier side of London. Treading light as a thief once he entered
the front double doors, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where Lindsay's
bedchamber might be.
"Lindsay, wake up." He shook her, but the
chit slept on within his arms as peacefully as a newborn kitten. "Lindsay,"
he hissed, a bit louder this time. "I need you to show me—"
"I'll lead the way, milord, but on one condition."
Jared spun around, his low oath hanging in the air as a
stout apparition swathed in a prim white night-robe came out from behind the
open door. Matilda, Lady Penney's maid, set her hands squarely on her hips.
"Swear to me ye haven't touched the lass—on pain that yer soul writhe in eternal hellfire if ye lie—and I'll
say nothing of this night's odd business to my mistress. Do ye understand me
well, milord?"
Jared gave a nod, feeling like a green schoolboy under
the Scotswoman's stern scrutiny.
"So do ye bring her back as pure as she left here
or no?"
He swallowed a twinge of anger, wholly unused to
explaining himself to anyone. But he could see, in this instance, that he had
no choice.
"I haven't touched her, or compromised her in any
fashion. On that I give you my word."
Silence reigned for what seemed an interminable moment;
then Matilda finally nodded. "Very well, then, follow me. And take care ye
step where I do, for the stairs squeak like the devil."
Having no idea what this woman's knowledge might
portend for Lindsay, Jared also told himself firmly that it was none of his
concern as he followed Matilda up an imposing staircase. Then came a long hallway, their little trio passing by a closed
door from which emanated the most outrageous snores, until they came at last to
a room at the front of the house.
"This'll be Miss Somerset's bedchamber, not that I
imagine ye'll be seeing it again after this night."
Making no reply to Matilda's thinly veiled reprimand,
Jared carried Lindsay into the decidedly feminine apartment with its lace
curtains and pastel pink wallpaper and laid her on the canopied four-poster,
the bedclothes already turned down as if awaiting her return, a lamp burning
brightly on a side table. Imagining no matter his sworn oath what the Scotswoman
must be thinking to see Lindsay in such bedraggled condition, the smell of ale
and tobacco clinging to her cloak and tousled hair, he decided it was time he
left.
Perhaps even London, he thought darkly, though he knew
that must wait until his business was accomplished.
"Good night to ye, then, Lord Giles," came
Matilda's voice, her back to him as she began to divest a limp Lindsay of her
soiled slippers. "I take it ye can find yer way
out?"
He could tell from the Scotswoman's tone that she didn't
expect an answer, and he didn't give one. His face as grim as she had sounded,
he couldn't wait to leave the house, and when he did, he closed the door firmly
behind him.
As firmly as he trusted Lindsay Somerset was well out
of his life, although, settling once more into the carriage, he couldn't help
thinking that his oath to Matilda hadn't been entirely true.
So he had kissed the chit. Did that make him a liar?
God knows he already had enough transgressions heaped upon his soul to send him
straight to hell.
"Driver, the Boar's Head tavern!" he
commanded the coachman, his gaze drawn to the pale light streaming from the
windows of Lindsay's room even as he made himself look away.
Chapter 7
"Oh, Lord."
Lindsay slumped onto her side and gripped her head, her
low groan sounding as loud to her as the crashing of cymbals. She wondered
weakly if she could open her eyes. She
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