Page 52 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 15
Pain laced her back. She stifled a scream and shoved at the weight crushing her.
More shrieks. Morecrack, crack, crack. Gunpowder filled the air, like it did when Papa tested his cannons.
“Bring her out,” a man cried, and they were tugging her. She swung a fist. A strong hand grasped it.
“It’s me, Gracie. It’s Charley. Hold tight, love. I’ll get you out.”
Out.Yes. The seat beside her was empty. Mr. Gibson had left.
She reached for Charley and they tumbled out together, and then she was lifted up, up, up, onto a horse.
She felt herself toppling, and then he grabbed her. He’d jumped up behind her.
“Pull up your skirts and straddle.”
She did as he said, and he locked an arm around her. Horses swarmed around them, but they were Charley’s horses and Charley’s men.
Their horse flew like a hellion, down pavements and through the tightest of alleys and byways, splitting crowds, with Charley shouting and cursing like one of Papa’s sailors, like a knight with his captured lady.
The thrill pushed out the fear and by the time they arrived in the Shaldon mews, she was shaking with something like mad laughter.
In the stables, two men in plain work clothes backed away, a blonde head peeping between them. Before she could orient herself, Charley sprang down and hauled her with him, losing his balance, crashing them both to the floor.
She landed atop him, her head crooked on his shoulder, and behind her the horse shuffled away. Charley’s breath came quick and shallow in her ears and the pounding between them was either his heart or hers, or both. When she tried to move, she was locked against him.
When she tried to speak, she had no breath.
His grip loosened and he shifted, gripping her head, lifting his own to meet her lips, sweetly, softly, soothingly.
Need coursed through her and she fell into the kiss, parting her lips and plundering him. At some point during their ride she’d lost her bonnet with its dreaded veils, and now it was her hair tumbling around her, according them some sense of privacy.
“Charley.”
She became aware of footsteps around them and lifted her head. He tugged her back down into another long kiss.
“Charley.” The voice was closer, louder.
She pulled away. “It’s your brother again.”
Charley groaned and released her, helping her to her feet, smoothing her skirts while her cheeks heated.
Twice caught kissing Charley Everly. Even for one such as she, that was scandalous. And the wild ride…she gripped a handful of skirt. “I’ve given all of London a look at my knees.”
“And lovely they are.” That voice was feminine.
She pushed back her hair and found a pretty blonde woman next to Mr. Gibson, curling her lips in on a smile. Was this Paulette? But no, Mr. Gibson’s wife was in the country somewhere. And this woman’s dress was a plain servant’s twill.
“Did we catch them?” Charley was arranging his coats.
She heated again and moved in front of him.
“We don’t know yet. Let’s get you inside, Miss Kingsley.”
Mr. Gibson reached for her, but she sank back against Charley and fumbled for his hand.
“Ah, leave her to Charley, Bink.” The woman smiled brightly. “But Miss Kingsley, Bink is right. We’ll be safer inside while this rumpus dies down, and more comfortable also. Lean then on Charley’s arm and we’ll move ourselves inside, shall we?”
