Page 35 of The Taming of a Wicked Rogue

He ignored his brother’s shout of ‘good luck’ that sounded far too tinged with amusement for his liking and ordered the carriage made ready. He supposed he could have packed some belongings in the time it took to have the horses and carriage made ready, but all he could bring himself to do was pace back and forth in front of the house. What would he do if she was not in Florence? Find her mother, he supposed. She did say she owned a dressmaker’s shop there. She would know something, surely?

Hell, he’d travel the world if he had to. He had notpinedas Adam so coarsely put it, but he’d be damned if he was going to spend more time waiting around for Rebecca. She loved him, of that he was certain. Those spilled words had not been a lie. And, of course, he’d loved her from their first kiss. This time, he would not give up easily.

Once the carriage was made ready, he climbed in and slammed the door before the footman could get to it. He tapped impatiently on the roof and eased back onto the velvet chair. The journey to Portsmouth and the crossing to Italy would take some time, and he rather regretted he had not decided just to do the journey to the coast on horseback, but he would have to change horses far too often and he didn’t want to arrive in too much of a state.

He smirked to himself. Of course Rebecca could not complain, not when she’d slept in a blasted sheep pen, the fool woman. Still, he wanted to make some sort of a good impression.

He scowled when the carriage moved slightly to the right of the road leading out of the estate. To avoid an animal perhaps. He leaned forward and peered out of the closed window but spotted nothing. The carriage continued on normally, so he had to assume all was well.

Except...

He stilled and tried to hear over the rattling of the wheels and the creak of the suspension. Either he was going insane or he had heard Rebecca. But that could not be, could it?

Shoving open the window, he craned his neck to peer back at the house. He tightened his grip around the window and stared for a few moments longer, then flopped back against the seat. Surely not?

“Rebecca,” he murmured to himself.

He shook himself and rapped on the roof of the carriage. It came to a halt and he shoved open the door, practically falling from the vehicle. His feet hit the gravel with a crunch, and he twisted to face the house.

Rebecca raced toward him, her bonnet loose and hanging by its ribbons from her neck, bouncing against her as she dashed toward him.

“Leo!” she called.

He hadn’t imagined her. He was not going mad.

Ignoring a question from the driver, he sprinted along the road toward her. She flung herself at him with more strength than he anticipated, looping her arms around his neck and knocking the wind from him.

“Oof.”

She darted briefly back. “Forgive me.”

“I did not say stop.” He snatched her back, clasping her waist and drawing her close. He should have probably said something about how beautiful she looked, how much he’d missed her, but instead he kissed her deeply.

She opened her mouth to him and clung to him until they were both breathless. When he drew back, the tempting pink of her flushed lips made him almost regret he had not kissed her more.

But he needed answers first.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came back,” she said breathlessly.

“Another diamond?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Where were you going?”

“To Florence, believe it or not.”

“But why?”

“To find you, you foolish woman.”

“Well, you found me.”

He held her firm lest she get any silly ideas of escaping him again. “I had little intention of waiting another ten years.”

“It was only nine actually.” Her lips quirked.

“Nine agonizing years.” He glanced behind her to spy two travel bags and a hat box abandoned halfway up the road. “Are you intending to stay somewhere?”

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