Page 87 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
His loins stirred. A night of making love had not sufficed for either of them, but he must give his brash bride the rest and the chance to mend she did not know she needed. And he must get her to safety.
And then, he must dodge her next spy’s tactic, whatever it might be.
Her obsession about London was not likely to abate, but his gut told him there was more to the story than what she was sharing.
The woman was a bother, but as long as she bothered him in bed he could accept almost anything.
Perhaps hecouldtake her to London. He’d promised, and they had enough outriders to keep her safe. But there was still the danger that Shaldon spoke of to contend with—about what, he still didn’t know, but he had a feeling Paulette did.
Hackwell House was no safer than Greencastle, though. Agruen would look for her there.
An inn or a hotel maybe. Or Annabelle Harris’s house in Soho.
Ah, now that was an idea.
The house stood, almost vacant now, with only old Mr. Lewis and his new wife as caretakers. No one would know about that house, and Mr. Lewis had proven himself a man who could keep secrets.
No one would know to look for Paulette there, but they could follow her home from one of the outings she was certain to make. And the neighborhood was on the edge of a seedy area.
He would have to muse more on this. Short of locking her up at Greencastle or Cransdall, he didn’t have a solution.
A crackle of gravel, a shuffle of leaves, and the low murmur of voices came to him over the creaking of the coach’s wheels, stirring his senses.
Around the next bend, a crowd of walkers appeared, tramping along in the middle of the already cramped road, sticks in hand, heads to the ground, like bloody hounds of the shire. The post boys saw them too and between him and the men up top, had the devil of the time halting the team before running them over.
Another wave of apprehension sparked through him. His hand went to his pistols while he scanned the crowd. All men. He spotted no women in this group, not even dirty, disheveled ones dressed like men.
Kincaid shot him a glance, and all of his nerves prickled. It was easy enough to mix trouble in with a group like this.
Bink brought his horse up the steep bank and leaned close to the coach window. Paulette peered through the lowered glass.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Be on your guard. And stay inside.” He spurred and moved up with the fidgety team. Kincaid shadowed him, and Johnny and the others surrounded the coach. They were all armed, even Ewan.
He counted bodies, a dozen, perhaps fifteen, and all of them marked with fatigue, the dust of the road, and anger. There were no shivering rabbits here. Whatever the army had done, they hadn’t cowed this group. They’d only stirred more ire.
This crowd could easily flank them and endanger Paulette. And if one of them should be Agruen’s hired man…
He raised a hand and fixed a deep frown. “Good day. Coming from that madness in Manchester, are ye?” He scanned the group. They jostled and exchanged glances and grumbles.
Who doesn’t fit in?
A spokesman emerged, a thin man, a bit better off, from the looks of his coat. “What’s it to you?” Weariness lined his face, but his voice was vibrant. And wrathful.
“We’re wanting news, man,” Kincaid said in a thick burr. “My new son-in-law and I, we’ve just come from Gretna. What the hell happened at St. Peter’s Field? What have those fool mill owners done?”
A smile creased the man’s face. Not yet a friendly one, which worried him more.
“A wedding? Caught up with the villain, did you?” He scratched at his scruff. “Want us to take care of him for you?”
Bink moved his horse a step closer. “Here now. I had his blessing and the wedding was honorable, traveling as I did to marry with her kin being present.”
“Aye. And I’m seeing to my girl’s safe delivery to her new home. Will you tell us what happened? Will the bloody British soldiers be trampling us down afore I can bring her to safety?”
There.
Bink wheeled his horse to the verge where two men were sidling closer. He sent them his sergeant’s glare. “Are ye all mates? All together?”
