Read Online Seductive Wager by Leigh Greenwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leigh Greenwood
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down here. The sofa is already taken, and the stable is full, too.” He stopped suddenly and peered suspiciously at Brett. “If you’re planning to sleep down here, who’s going to sleep in the missus’s bed?”
“I’m conveying a young lady to town,” Brett disclosed. He hoped his formidable expression would keep the landlord from leaping to the wrong conclusion, but his hopes were in vain.
“This is a respectable house,” Michael said, turning beet red. “I wont have your fancy woman in my inn, not if you have to sleep in the street. As for putting her in my wife’s bed …” Words failed the little man.
“Do you think I’d bring my mistress to this godforsaken corner of England?” Brett demanded. “Or care who saw her if I did? This is a lady, and a damned good-looking one at that.”
“Let me talk to Mathilda,” the landlord said, his anger evaporating as suddenly as it had materialized. “It’s got to be all right with her.”
A few minutes later Brett heard a female voice rise above the clatter and continue to scale upward until the door burst open and Mathilda overflowed into the hall and set sail for the still room, brandishing a huge kitchen knife like it was no more dangerous than a wooden spoon.
“What do you mean barging in here with your foolish tales when I’ve got a house full of pesky men all wanting their supper at once? And where is this precious young lady you’re so anxious about?” she demanded skeptically.
“In the coach,” Brett answered. “I couldn’t bring her inside without everybody seeing her.” He was halfway down the hall before Mathilda could get off another barrage, and she surged after him with Michael right behind.
Brett didn’t see Kate when he first opened the door. She had slipped down in the corner, nearly out of sight under the fur rug.
“Get out of my way, you overbearing man, and let me see for myself,” Mathilda ordered, pushing Brett unceremoniously aside. At first sight, Kate’s remarkable beauty convinced Mathilda that Brett was trying to pass off his mistress, but a closer look caused her to change her mind. There was nothing of the painted hussy in this pale face, and from the rigidity of her body, the set look in her face, and the pallor of her skin, it was clear she wasn’t as brave as she pretended to be.
“I’m terribly sorry to impose upon you at such a busy time, but if you’ll only give me a bed, I’ll sleep with the serving girls if I have to,” Kate pleaded, finishing up with a tiny hiccup that completely melted Mathilda’s resistance.
“You poor lamb,” Mathilda purred, “left out in this nasty coach without so much as a maid to keep you company. You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Westbrook, to treat a lady so shabby.” Brett was too glad of Mathilda’s change of heart to argue over the injustice of her accusation, but his expression was anything but happy.
“Michael,” Mathilda trumpeted impatiently, “get my cloak, the one with the hood that’s hanging in the passageway. And don’t be all night about it,” she added. “There’s suppers to be cooked yet. You come with me, child,” she said, helping Kate down from the coach. “I’ll see you’re put between warm sheets right away. These men are all alike, thinking only of themselves, while we poor females must look after ourselves and them, too.” Michael knew Mathilda never meant half of what she said, but Brett muttered something under his breath about the murder of females being justifiable homicide.
“Don’t you worry, miss. As soon as that man of mine gets back with my cloak, we can get you inside. Stand behind me. Won’t nobody see a mere slip like you behind the likes of me.” Her enormous body shook with mirth. “Though why men have to act like they’ve got lead in their britches just when you want them to step lively is something I’ll never understand.”
Michael came back with a cloak big enough to hide six of Kate, and Mathilda
“I’m conveying a young lady to town,” Brett disclosed. He hoped his formidable expression would keep the landlord from leaping to the wrong conclusion, but his hopes were in vain.
“This is a respectable house,” Michael said, turning beet red. “I wont have your fancy woman in my inn, not if you have to sleep in the street. As for putting her in my wife’s bed …” Words failed the little man.
“Do you think I’d bring my mistress to this godforsaken corner of England?” Brett demanded. “Or care who saw her if I did? This is a lady, and a damned good-looking one at that.”
“Let me talk to Mathilda,” the landlord said, his anger evaporating as suddenly as it had materialized. “It’s got to be all right with her.”
A few minutes later Brett heard a female voice rise above the clatter and continue to scale upward until the door burst open and Mathilda overflowed into the hall and set sail for the still room, brandishing a huge kitchen knife like it was no more dangerous than a wooden spoon.
“What do you mean barging in here with your foolish tales when I’ve got a house full of pesky men all wanting their supper at once? And where is this precious young lady you’re so anxious about?” she demanded skeptically.
“In the coach,” Brett answered. “I couldn’t bring her inside without everybody seeing her.” He was halfway down the hall before Mathilda could get off another barrage, and she surged after him with Michael right behind.
Brett didn’t see Kate when he first opened the door. She had slipped down in the corner, nearly out of sight under the fur rug.
“Get out of my way, you overbearing man, and let me see for myself,” Mathilda ordered, pushing Brett unceremoniously aside. At first sight, Kate’s remarkable beauty convinced Mathilda that Brett was trying to pass off his mistress, but a closer look caused her to change her mind. There was nothing of the painted hussy in this pale face, and from the rigidity of her body, the set look in her face, and the pallor of her skin, it was clear she wasn’t as brave as she pretended to be.
“I’m terribly sorry to impose upon you at such a busy time, but if you’ll only give me a bed, I’ll sleep with the serving girls if I have to,” Kate pleaded, finishing up with a tiny hiccup that completely melted Mathilda’s resistance.
“You poor lamb,” Mathilda purred, “left out in this nasty coach without so much as a maid to keep you company. You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Westbrook, to treat a lady so shabby.” Brett was too glad of Mathilda’s change of heart to argue over the injustice of her accusation, but his expression was anything but happy.
“Michael,” Mathilda trumpeted impatiently, “get my cloak, the one with the hood that’s hanging in the passageway. And don’t be all night about it,” she added. “There’s suppers to be cooked yet. You come with me, child,” she said, helping Kate down from the coach. “I’ll see you’re put between warm sheets right away. These men are all alike, thinking only of themselves, while we poor females must look after ourselves and them, too.” Michael knew Mathilda never meant half of what she said, but Brett muttered something under his breath about the murder of females being justifiable homicide.
“Don’t you worry, miss. As soon as that man of mine gets back with my cloak, we can get you inside. Stand behind me. Won’t nobody see a mere slip like you behind the likes of me.” Her enormous body shook with mirth. “Though why men have to act like they’ve got lead in their britches just when you want them to step lively is something I’ll never understand.”
Michael came back with a cloak big enough to hide six of Kate, and Mathilda
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