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Authors: Jamie Carie
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He leaned back in his chair with elegant ease, one foot propped on a knee, his elbow braced on the table beside him, chin in hand. She looked into intelligent blue eyes and paused without meaning to. There was a confident kindness in those eyes, but when his gaze switched to Lieutenant Haggerty, it hardened like blue glass and his whole being transformed to tightly coiled strength, ready to spring. She had the silly desire to run to him and cower behind his chair but she didn't know him at all. Might be a case of jumping from the pot into the fire. Looking straight ahead she followed the innkeeper to a quieter room in the back, the coachman, Lieutenant Haggerty, and several other soldiers trailing her like a horde of bees she couldn't shake.
Lord, send angels to protect me. She threw the silent prayer up as she took a seat, Lieutenant Haggerty seating himself next to her on the narrow bench.
The first course of lentil soup and fresh bread was hot and smelled delicious, but she didn't know how she would swallow it around the knot in her throat. She dipped her spoon, keeping her eyes glued to her bowl and trying to ignore the lieutenant's thigh, which seemed to be getting closer and closer to hers. By the time the second course arrived, his leg was touching the folds of her skirt and his arm would upon occasion brush against her arm. She took a little scoot away, glancing at him to see if he noticed. That was a mistake. His hand reached out and grasped hold of her upper thigh like a tight, painful vise.
She gasped. Her face filling with heat. "Unhand me this instant," she hissed.
No one seemed to notice their conversation. The room was loud and they were all busy diving into the roasted chickens that had been placed in front of them.
His hand moved but slowly and with sensual intent. Alex's heart was beating so that she thought it must come out of her chest. She had to get out of there.
With a sudden motion, she stood, bowed her head to the table at large, and announced, "I'm very tired and would retire, gentlemen. Thank you for your kind escort and company, but I must bid you good night."
Several men stood and bowed, wishing her good night as she fled the room, and the lieutenant had an angry scowl on this face. Hopefully, he would give up and be gone by morning. But she wasn't so naïve as to think it likely. He seemed most determined to do what, exactly, she wasn't sure, but she had to escape him. The thought that she could be in serious trouble, packed back to Holy Island or some other alternative to her plan—jailed even, for traveling alone—made her bite down on her lower lip as she made her way up the stairs to her room.
Her room turned out to be over the taproom and was sure to be noisy, but thanks be to God, it had three other women staying in its two big beds. She would gladly cuddle up to the large woman named Trina who smiled at her with two missing teeth and took up most of the bed. Gladly!
Hopefully, such company would keep her safe until morning.
Chapter Seven
Y our Grace."
Meade stepped inside Gabriel's dressing room where his valet, George, was putting the finishing touches on his cravat. He paused on the threshold and waited while Gabriel slipped into his waistcoat and checked his appearance in the full-length mirror.
"Good choice, George." Gabriel murmured the praise, careful not to speak too loud, causing the young man's neck to redden in embarrassed pleasure. He was dressed in a cream-colored waistcoat with scrolling embroidery of same color on the lapels and a stark white shirt and cravat. The word snowy did come to mind as he studied the perfect folds under his chin. Below, he wore dark blue trousers after the newest French style tucked in his boots, lighter than his usual Hessians, for dancing.
Not that he would be doing much of that.
His dark brows lowered over eyes the color of emeralds in a deep scowl. He had never minded dancing, even with debutantes. It was the music he
He leaned back in his chair with elegant ease, one foot propped on a knee, his elbow braced on the table beside him, chin in hand. She looked into intelligent blue eyes and paused without meaning to. There was a confident kindness in those eyes, but when his gaze switched to Lieutenant Haggerty, it hardened like blue glass and his whole being transformed to tightly coiled strength, ready to spring. She had the silly desire to run to him and cower behind his chair but she didn't know him at all. Might be a case of jumping from the pot into the fire. Looking straight ahead she followed the innkeeper to a quieter room in the back, the coachman, Lieutenant Haggerty, and several other soldiers trailing her like a horde of bees she couldn't shake.
Lord, send angels to protect me. She threw the silent prayer up as she took a seat, Lieutenant Haggerty seating himself next to her on the narrow bench.
The first course of lentil soup and fresh bread was hot and smelled delicious, but she didn't know how she would swallow it around the knot in her throat. She dipped her spoon, keeping her eyes glued to her bowl and trying to ignore the lieutenant's thigh, which seemed to be getting closer and closer to hers. By the time the second course arrived, his leg was touching the folds of her skirt and his arm would upon occasion brush against her arm. She took a little scoot away, glancing at him to see if he noticed. That was a mistake. His hand reached out and grasped hold of her upper thigh like a tight, painful vise.
She gasped. Her face filling with heat. "Unhand me this instant," she hissed.
No one seemed to notice their conversation. The room was loud and they were all busy diving into the roasted chickens that had been placed in front of them.
His hand moved but slowly and with sensual intent. Alex's heart was beating so that she thought it must come out of her chest. She had to get out of there.
With a sudden motion, she stood, bowed her head to the table at large, and announced, "I'm very tired and would retire, gentlemen. Thank you for your kind escort and company, but I must bid you good night."
Several men stood and bowed, wishing her good night as she fled the room, and the lieutenant had an angry scowl on this face. Hopefully, he would give up and be gone by morning. But she wasn't so naïve as to think it likely. He seemed most determined to do what, exactly, she wasn't sure, but she had to escape him. The thought that she could be in serious trouble, packed back to Holy Island or some other alternative to her plan—jailed even, for traveling alone—made her bite down on her lower lip as she made her way up the stairs to her room.
Her room turned out to be over the taproom and was sure to be noisy, but thanks be to God, it had three other women staying in its two big beds. She would gladly cuddle up to the large woman named Trina who smiled at her with two missing teeth and took up most of the bed. Gladly!
Hopefully, such company would keep her safe until morning.
Chapter Seven
Y our Grace."
Meade stepped inside Gabriel's dressing room where his valet, George, was putting the finishing touches on his cravat. He paused on the threshold and waited while Gabriel slipped into his waistcoat and checked his appearance in the full-length mirror.
"Good choice, George." Gabriel murmured the praise, careful not to speak too loud, causing the young man's neck to redden in embarrassed pleasure. He was dressed in a cream-colored waistcoat with scrolling embroidery of same color on the lapels and a stark white shirt and cravat. The word snowy did come to mind as he studied the perfect folds under his chin. Below, he wore dark blue trousers after the newest French style tucked in his boots, lighter than his usual Hessians, for dancing.
Not that he would be doing much of that.
His dark brows lowered over eyes the color of emeralds in a deep scowl. He had never minded dancing, even with debutantes. It was the music he
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