Page 23 of The Rake I Wished For
Harlow was relieved to have something to do as he gave the servants directions and dealt with the innkeeper and his wife.
Jocelyn disappeared quickly, along with her maid, no doubt to change and freshen herself before supper. He followed the innkeeper to his room to do the same and found himself lingering in front of her door.
He hated this unresolved feeling.
Hated it even more that every time Jocelyn had looked at him since that moment on the veranda, he saw a hint of…pain.
Of hurt.
He’d hurt her, and he hadn’t meant to. Couldn’t she see he’d only ever wanted to look after her? To protect her?
He ran a hand through his hair and moved off to his own room. If she needed space from him, he could give her that. Lord knew she’d find no space from him once they returned to the carriage.
He half expected Jocelyn to hide away in her room all night, so it came as a surprise when he saw her coming toward him in the crowded tavern just as a stew was being served.
She came alone and with her head held so high he wondered how she didn’t trip over the hem of her gown.
Normally he’d say as much to her just to make her laugh, but now…
“Good evening, Jo,” he said as casually as he could manage. It still came out stilted and he found himself wincing, annoyed with himself and her for this new awkwardness between them.
She sat across from him. “Missus Clemens didn’t feel up for joining us. I told her it would be all right if she took her meal in the room, but of course, if you think I cannot be trusted to act like a lady throughout dinner—”
“Jocelyn,” he interrupted.
She cast him a haughty look, but he caught the way her lips quivered, and…
Blast.
All at once, he understood.
He’d embarrassed her. Whether it was by offering to kiss her or chastising her like a child, or acting like an overbearing boor by insisting she leave London…
He drew in a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded the haughty set of her chin and the defiance in her eyes.
He felt his own lips twitch with the urge to laugh. This girl. So stubborn even when she was in the wrong and she knew it.
Still, if one of them didn’t give at least a little, this trip would continue to be an act of torture.
He leaned forward until he rested on his elbows and her gaze turned wary. “Look, Jo—”
“Stop calling me that,” she said. “I’m not a child.”
His gaze dropped to those lush lips of hers before he could stop himself. “I know you’re not. And I also know you’re hurt and angry—”
“Why would I be angry?” Her tone was…well, angry.
He tilted his head to the side. “All right, my proud little goose, if you need to hear me say it…I was an overbearing brute when I made plans for you to leave London without discussing it with you first.”
Her lower lip stuck out slightly as she considered this, and he could see her resolve weakening. Jocelyn had always been proud and stubborn, but she wasn’t spoiled or uppity. And she was horrid at holding a grudge.
“Very well. I accept your apology.” She arched a brow. “Assuming that was an apology.”
He tipped his chin in acknowledgment, but then he arched his brows expectantly.
Her lips quivered ever so slightly and his heart leapt at the sight of the near smile as if he’d just been struck by lightning. “And…” he prompted.
Her lips curved slightly, the smile small and tight, and giving him a peek of a dimple on the right side of her mouth. “Oh, all right,” she sighed. “And I apologize for putting you in an awkward position with my…plan.”
