Page 68 of Pride: The Rogue
Mustering a smile she didn’t at all feel, Livian gathered her muddied hems, and headed in the direction of the inn.
The entire time, her body maintained its heightened state of alert of Lachlan’s every move, from the sounds of him packing his horse to the shift in leather as he swung himself astride.
Only when the clean, rhymical trot he’d set his horse to began to fade, did she allow herself a final look back at Lachlan Latimer.
Chapter 12
Latimer made it nearly two miles down the muddied, old Roman roads before that niggling feeling interrupted his ride. That same feeling that’d kept him from sleep last night.
Something was off.
Scowling, Latimer guided his mount to a slow halt and steered the creature back in the direction they’d just traveled.
There’d been something strange about that parting between he and Livian. When with her, he got himself all muddleheaded. That alone should be reason enough to not only turn Fortune in the opposite direction but set him to an all-out gallop.
Even as he made to do just that, Latimer found himself wheeling Fortune around.
She’d been evasive, but why? For what purpose?
Latimer didn’t know why the hell it should matter anyway, just that it did.
His frown deepened.
Perhaps, there’d been something more nefarious about the lady and her intentions, after all.
Perhaps it’d been guilt.
“Or perhaps, you’re just looking for a reason to go back,” he muttered into the early afternoon quiet.
Fortune tossed his big black mane back and whinnied noisily.
“Traitor,” Latimer groused. To soften his sullen rebuke of the loyal, but knowing creature, he leaned forward and rubbed Fortune’s neck.
The entire time, he searched his brain for what exactly it was that’d set off this wave of unease.
“I thought you’d have been gone by now, darlin’…”
“Yes. Well…”
There’d been no explanation. She’d not expounded further.
For that matter, given the chill of both the water and breakfast she’d brought to his rooms, she’d have been up long before him.
Latimer glanced over his shoulder and peered off in the distance.
“If you’ll excuse me…I must fetch my things. Mr. Dryver will be wondering where I am…”
There’d been something all too familiar about that parting; something reminiscent of when she’d given her room over to Latimer.
He frowned.
Furthermore, where the hell had Mr. Dryver been,anyway?
His eyebrows snapped together.
She wasn’t leaving.
That’s why.Where was Mr. Dryver this morning? The sameloyalMr. Dryver, the driver who’d claimed a room for himself and slumbered peacefully without a worry for his beautiful, young, virginal mistress a number of doors down.
