Chapter Nineteen

Red held his breath as he waited for a response. This entire experience since he had stepped off the carriage and walked toward the tree had been wholly unplanned. He'd gone with his gut, and it had led him down this bloody merry path. What would he do if she denied what was between them?

What would he do if she acknowledged it?

Nothing had changed. She was to go return to Hampshire and bury herself in her studies, and he had smuggling to do. The war effort relied on him, and he would not abandon that.

"My logic says..." She drew in a breath. "My logic says this is fleeting desire. That you want me because I am the nearest available woman, and you have been on the road for a while."

He smirked. "What of you? Is that your excuse?"

"I am not..." she lowered her voice, "I am not some sort of loose woman."

"Hannah, I do not think anyone would ever think that of you." He lifted his gaze to the gathering grey clouds that were rolling up aggressively. They would need to return to the coach shortly, but he would not leave this damned tree until this was resolved. "So you have never desired a man before?"

"No."

Why her response surprised him and filled him with pride, he did not know. Hannah would not desire lightly or easily, of course she would not, but to think he was the first man she had felt this way about...Damn, it was quite a responsibility.

He turned his full attention on her, stepping close once more. "You have me marked as quite a savage of a man, do you not?"

A crease appeared between her brows. "How so?"

"That you would think I only desire you because you are the nearest available woman."

"Well, I—"

"I can assure you, I am quite in control of myself. I do not desire every woman I see, and I do not need to satisfy myself at every moment. I am not a savage nor do I let my needs control me."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." He let the realization sink in for a few moments. Why he had even started this conversation, he had little idea, only that since this morning when he had tasted her skin, he had been driven wild by the unspoken need between them. It had to be addressed, if only for his sanity.

After all, they both knew nothing could come of it.

He had not noticed the rain until a drop broke through the trees and landed on Hannah's cheek. Red lifted a finger to swipe it away but it was joined by several more. The rain pelted the tree, the noise amplified by the leaves. He grabbed Hannah's hand.

"We had better make a run for it."

She nodded, and they darted across the green. The sudden downpour had left the grass slick underfoot, and she nearly skidded and fell, so he snatched her up in his arms and carried her to the carriage. Once he had her deposited in the safety of the vehicle, he climbed in and shook the raindrops from his hat. Hannah undid her bonnet and did the same, straightening out the ribbon. She refused to look at him.

"Hannah—"

"Oh what fun!" Lady Crawford clambered into the coach, sending it rocking on its wheels. "Goodness, what is this English weather about? I do declare it will always take me by surprise, and you would think we English are used to the rain."

Her husband clambered in beside her. "Had to make a dash for it, did we not? My wife would have loved me to be as heroic as you, Redmere, but alas, I am not so strong as I was in my youth."

"And I am not so light." The viscountess laughed. "Our earl is quite the man, is he not?" she asked Hannah. "Scooping you up and getting you to safety. You are lucky to have a cousin like him."

Hannah smiled absently. "I am indeed."

The rain continued to patter on the roof of the coach, making conversation difficult as they continued their journey. The sound combined with the general rattling noise of their vehicle drowned out most of what the viscount and viscountess said so after several failed attempts on their behalf to strike conversation, they gave up and spoke amongst themselves.

Hannah remained quiet and thoughtful. It had not been his intention to make her feel uncomfortable, but he took some sick pleasure in the fact that she was now as preoccupied as he had been for most of their journey with the attraction between them.

The peacefulness of their journey was broken when they entered the outskirts of Taunton. The sprawling town consisted mostly of Tudor cottages with newer houses surrounding them. The mix of clean, square and modern buildings next to old, crooked black and white houses was an intriguing combination but it seemed to work. The church tower dominated the skyline, its red brick striking a stark contrast to all the white and cream painted walls.

They rolled over a bridge that crossed the River Tone—a wide stretch of water that flowed rapidly with the sudden downpour and extra rain they had likely been experiencing with the rest of the south of England.

Red had travelled through Taunton a few times. It was the easiest stop on a journey to London from Cornwall, but he usually only stopped briefly. Hannah did not know it yet, but he intended for them to stay more than a night. He could not bear to see her in the same gown over and over. Not that he cared much for what women wore, but he could tell it aggravated her to be seen as messy and dirty. Once they found a room at an inn, he would set about seeing if he could not arrange a new wardrobe.

The carriage came to a halt in the market square. The remnants of market stalls remained with scraps of paper and food littering the cobbled square.

"There's a fine inn just there." Lord Crawford motioned across to a large inn, each window lit, ready for the encroaching evening. "Very good food and excellent beds. We stayed there when Fanny was suffering a malady."

"You will be quite comfortable there, though my cousin would not mind at all if you came to stay with us," the viscountess insisted.

Red shook his head. "We could not impose, particularly with no notice."

"She would not mind a jot, but I understand your reticence." Lady Crawford grinned. "Such a gentleman."

Beside him, Hannah snorted and then tried to conceal it with a cough. He lifted a brow and looked at her, but she avoided his gaze.

"Well, do stop by if you are ever in the area again," Lord Crawford said as Red picked up the stone.

"Absolutely." The viscount had ensured Red knew well where he lived should he ever wish to visit. Red could hardly see that ever happening. "Thank you for your help. You have, no doubt, made our journey much easier."

Lady Crawford beamed at Hannah. "You will not have a problem hiring a private coach from here. You shall soon be in London and no doubt enjoying yourselves wonderfully. Goodness, it almost makes me wish I was a young girl again."

"Take care of yourselves, Lord and Lady Crawford," Hannah said. "We are very grateful for your help."

The viscount waved a hand once they'd climbed out of the carriage. "Happy to help. Enjoy London!"

A heavy weight lifted off Red's shoulders once the carriage disappeared between a chandlery and a shoemaker's. He huffed out a breath.

"They were not that bad."

"I do not do well in company."

Hannah looked at him quizzically. "You do well in my company."

"Yours is an exception, and the Crawfords were quite the handful."

"I imagine you prefer the company of your, um, smuggling friends."

"They are hard-working, decent men, and they know when to leave me in peace. Three excellent qualities." He hefted his bag over his shoulder and cradled the stone against his chest.

"Decent? I do not think I have ever heard a smuggler being called decent."

"In spite of your assumptions, they are good men, Hannah." He nodded toward the inn. "Shall we get a room or are we to stand here discussing your judgements of my companions all day?"

"They are not judgements," she protested, scurrying along behind him as he strode toward the front door set directly in the center of the building. "How can being a smuggler and being decent go hand in hand? It's not logical. A decent man would not smuggle."

"And I am not decent?"

"Well, I...no, I mean yes. I mean..." She sighed.

Red pushed open the door for her and escorted her in. Neither of them were unused to traveler's inns and the general business of them as well as some of the more unsavory characters they attracted on the road. However, this inn took Red by surprise. From the outside it was a large building and well looked after with recently painted shutters, beams and walls, but aside from that it looked like any other inn.

Inside, though, they were greeted with beautiful woodwork on the walls, freshly polished and gleaming. The bar did not hold the usual scratches and stains, housing only a row of polished tankards at one end and a jar of pickled eggs on the other end. There was no stench of stale sweat and ale, and the room instead gave off a fragrance of earthy hops and herbs.

It was indeed busy, but the patrons were not like the mixed lot that they had encountered so far. Most were as well dressed as he, if a little less road-weary. The women wore silks and had fine embroidery on their gowns and feathers in their hair. He glanced at Hannah to see she had noted the state of the guests here. She looked down at her own gown and bit her lip.

Several guests occupied the stalls in front of the bar, forcing Red to push between them. A scrawny bar maid with a clean, fresh complexion smiled politely at him.

"Can I help, sir?"

"Yes, a room if you please."

"Aye, I'll be a moment." The girl vanished behind the bar and emerged out of a door at the other end of the room. She swept past the tables that were mostly full. Though she was dressed simply, she was clean and well-presented. Clearly there was money behind this inn.

"If you follow me," she motioned to the door to the right and pushed it open. They entered a reception room with a small desk. The carpets were thick under his feet and felt new.

She flicked open a book on the desk and pulled out a quill. "How many rooms would you like, sir?"

He paused. They had been sharing a room up until now, for Hannah's safety and his ease of mind really. It was hardly respectable but no one would know, so it hardly mattered. However, he doubted there was a single ruffian here, not when he spied their nightly rates pinned on the wall. No ruffian could afford such a place.

"Two rooms, if you please."

"Of course." The woman unhooked two keys from the hooks on the wall and handed them over. "You are on the top floor. If you follow the stairs up, your rooms are on the left." She motioned to the book. "If you could sign in, please."

Red nodded and signed them in as brother and sister under entirely false names. They had adopted such a falsehood for most of the journey, but he had not been bothered about using his own name until now. There was a chance there would be people who would at least recognize his name if they saw it in the book and they would know full well he had no sister or sister-in-law.

Red led the way and opened Hannah's room first, ushering her in. He eyed the room. It was simplistic but clean and more spacious than what they had stayed in previously. A brass bed was pushed up against one wall with its blankets tucked in neatly. The vanity table was of dark wood and highly polished. There was an armoire for her clothes too—not that she had any.

"Pleasant room," he murmured.

"You trust me on my own finally?"

"I thought you could do without my snoring disturbing you, and this seems a decent establishment." He let slip a smile. "I do not think you can get into any trouble here."

She returned his smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Absolutely not. We have had a run of rotten luck, but it seems to be changing. Let us not test that." He carried the stone over to the vanity table. Before he could put it down, the fabric around it loosened and his grip failed. He squeezed the artifact tighter, but it slipped. Even in his frantic struggle to grab it, he failed. Searing pain burst through his foot and the stone balanced briefly on his toes then crashed down to one side.

Snatching his foot from underneath the rock, he hopped about. "Shit, shit, shit, shit." He couldn't even begin to care about his language in front of Hannah.

She scurried to his side and urged him onto the bed. "Does it hurt?"

"Of course it bloody well hurts."

"Sit down." Her features were etched with concern.

"I am bloody sitting."

She knelt in front of him and worked off his boot. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his toe throbbed impatiently. Hannah gingerly pulled away his sock and her tiny distressed noise made his foot ache all the more. He finally looked down at the damage and grimaced. His big toe was twice the size it should have been and the toe next to it had caught some of the blow too.

"It might be broken," Hannah said. "Can you wriggle it?"

He was able to though it made him wince.

"You may still have a fracture. In fact, I would think it likely with the weight of the artifact."

"Bloody thing," he grumbled.

"It will not stop you walking on it though it might be sore for some time." She glanced up at him. "Is it very painful?"

He pressed his lips together and pushed up from the bed. "I've suffered worse."

Certainly he had suffered plenty of bumps and scrapes over the years, particularly once he'd embarked into the smuggling trade, but he had never broken anything. The incessant throb was the worst of it and the knowledge that when it bruised, it would likely stiffen and make walking that much harder. Just what he needed.

Hannah lifted both hands and tried to persuade him to sit back down.

He fixed her with a look. "You need a wash and a rest no doubt. And I will dunk this in some cold water, see if that helps."

"Should I see if the kitchen has any ice or cold steaks?"

He shook his head. "I don't need a bloody fuss. Just a few moments."

She peered at the stone and then back at him. "I am sorry."

"It was my damned fault, but I'll admit I'm surprised you are not scolding me for dropping the stone."

"You do think me heartless, do you not?"

"Obsessed more like."

A strange smile crossed her lips, one that was almost wistful. "Not at all."

Red thrust a finger at the abandoned artifact. "The sooner we get that blasted stone to London, the better."

Her smile vanished. If he were not hurting so badly, he might have tried to find out what he had done to upset her, but all he could do was snatch up his boot and sock and hobble to his room. She followed him out as though he might do something else foolish like tumble down the stairs or fall out of his bedroom window.

"You don't need to follow me," he snapped.

"I wanted to make sure you got to your room safely."

"I am next door to you, Hannah," he said through gritted teeth. "I can hardly get into much trouble." He fumbled with the key while balancing his bag on one arm and his boot and sock in the other hand. It clattered to the floor and he cursed.

Hannah dipped to get the key, opened his door without a word, and pressed it into his hand once he had stepped inside.

"Good night, Red."

"Are we not going to have dinner?"

"I think I shall eat in my room." She pulled the door shut before he could respond.

Red set about pouring water into the washbowl. He dipped a finger in it and found it to be nice and cold. Not ideal for bathing to be sure but perfect for his sore foot. He rolled up his breeches and set the bowl on the floor. Sucking in a breath, he submerged his swollen toe in the water. Wincing, he expelled the breath and forced himself to relax.

He would not, however, ponder as to why he had upset Hannah. He seemed to be good at that at the moment. Not long ago, that might have pleased him. Aggravating Miss St. John had been quite amusing. But that did not matter because he wasn't going to dwell on it. What did it matter if he had offended her a little? Even though he could not understand what it was he had done. After all, he hadn't dropped the stone on her toe. And he had not broken or damaged the artifact—at least he did not think so. If he had, she would have been fussing over the stupid stone instead of him, surely? So how had he upset her?

Red forced his attention to his pounding toe.

But why had her smile vanished at the mention of getting rid of the stone? Was it the idea of having to hand it over? If that was what it was about, she had no reason to be annoyed at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Miss Hannah St. John was causing him far too much aggravation. Somehow, deep down, he had this horrible suspicion the woman was worth it.