The Coachman's Daughter (12 page)

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Authors: Gayle Eden

Tags: #romance, #love, #sex, #historical, #regency, #gayle eden, #eve asbury, #coachmans daughter

BOOK: The Coachman's Daughter
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“You give me credit where none is due.” She
said when the music stopped. “One week of sobriety hardly makes him
reformed either. a woman and a man looking across a ballroom floor,
hardly attest to more than normal attraction.”

Monty smiled as he took her arm and led her
to the sidelines. He leaned down and said in her ear, “I understand
perfectly. You two lie as bad as Juliette and I once did.” He bowed
over her hand, kissed it. Then he winked.

Pulse pounding in her throat, her color high,
Haven watched him walk to his Lady wife and slide his arm around
her waist. She let out a trembling breath and headed to the Duchess
to say her adieu. She had an early morning, apparently.

Her arm was caught half way there. She did
not need to look to know it was Deme.

He led her just out of the entry and into the
parlor. Though the doors were opened to both, she felt the intimacy
when he stopped by the row of windows and released her before
coming to stand in front of her.

Looking up at him, itching to push that fall
off curls off handsome brow, Haven could hear his; I want you, in
her mind.

It was obviously on his mind too when he
murmured, “Your eyes devoured me tonight.”

“How arrogant of you to assume so.”

He smiled rakish, “It is either say that, or
do this….”

She did not get the gasp out before had her
in his arms, his mouth finding hers, his kiss dizzyingly sensual,
and maddeningly stirring. His tongue swept through her mouth,
tasting everything he wanted.

Panting and flushing when he lifted his head,
her lips damp. Though he did not release her, she rasped, “What are
you trying to prove? Are you trying to create some sort of
scandal?”

“Prove…that I bloody well don’t care who sees
me kiss you. No Wimberly gives a bloody damn for scandal. My whole
life has been one.”

His green eyes were locked with hers. “Listen
to me, Haven Mulhern. I will finish what I started in that coaching
house someday.” One of his hands moved to cup her cheek. It was an
obvious gesture to make sure she attended what he said. “Every bit
of it.” His lashes dipped half-mast and his thumb stroked her skin.
He whispered, “I’m going to take you apart with pleasure.”

He kissed her again, this time one of those
too soft, too melting ones that turned her skin inside out and had
her clinging to him.

His mouth scored over her cheek. Deme said in
her ear, “I have been mad wanting you. That is no surprise, is it?
You knew it in that little office. You knew it when I let you walk
out the door.”“

Her eyes closed, and hands on his back she
replied, “Let me…You talk as if I am already yours for the taking,
my lord.”

His hand moved from her face. His arms held
her captive, lips grazing her hair. “I don’t care who belongs to
whom. Let me pleasure you tonight.”

“You are mad.” her husk came with burying her
face against his chest before she lifted it and leaned back to look
up at him.

“I won’t disagree with that.” The smile this
time did not reach his eyes. “As lovely as you look, as
breathtaking in this gown, you are equally as attractive in your
trousers and boots.”

“Daft.” She shook her head. “How much wine
did you consume?”

He was not jesting now. “I have been denied
little in my life, Haven. It never occurred to me that someday I
would want something so desperately and not be able to demand it. I
haven’t the right, and even if I persuaded myself that I did, I
want you willing.”

“And when you do, you will forget me. There
will be others. You may be able to curb your drinking, but you
won’t be a monk.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I’ve no choice but to.”

He closed his eyes a moment and then slowly
released her.

They stood there, eyes locked.

At length, he sighed and raked a hand through
his hair. “I’ll walk you home.”

She let him, collecting her silk lined black
cloak. He refused one the butler suggested. It was crisp and foggy
out. Haven sighed too when he reached and found her hand, holding
it, as they made their way to the coach house.

Inside, everything was illuminated via the
lantern; he still held her hand whist regarding coach with her
trunks already strapped.

She used her free hand to push back her hood.
“Who ordered that?

“I did. “Don’t go in yet.”

She scarcely heard him say that but halted
and turned, and found herself looking at his profile. “There is
more to my going than what is between us, my lord.”

“Deme.” He insisted. “I know.”

He turned too and met her gaze with one that
nearly buckled her knees. “Do you know—what happened, in my
past?”

“Yes.”

His gaze roamed her face and then came back.
“It was a time I wish I could relive, in order to take back one
moment, on that dueling field. I can’t however.”

“And you’d trade your whole life because of
it. It wasn’t done in malice on your part, my lord”

“I tried. I tried to—” He looked away and
around the area, before murmuring, “You never let me do too much
damage.”

“That’s debatable.”

He smiled slightly self-mocking. “I can’t
stop thinking about you. Those moments in that little office. I
would be easier if I could numb myself with brandy.”

“No one is stopping you.”

“You are.” He whispered.

“You are merely sick of a life you weren’t
enjoying. It was inevitable you would change your pace at some
point.”

His cocked his brow but walked over to the
thick stairs. Sitting down, he extracted a cheroot case, took one
out and lit it.

She walked a few paces and after removing her
cloak and leaned against one of the square columns just a bit from
him.

For a while, he merely smoked.

Their eyes touched on and off.

Haven murmured at length, “I think this is
the first conversation we’ve had that didn’t include sarcasm and
insults.”

“True—almost. You did say I was mad...”

She watched him draw and release smoke. Part
of her felt the pull of attraction; the other half was accepting
that it was inevitable with a man like him.

For Deme’s part, he watched her lean her head
back against the column, watching him under her lashes, and he
wanted to press his lips to hers, to kiss her throat, to slowly
ease that gown off her body.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Her husk
broke the next silence.

“Yes.” Deme had let her read his thoughts
deliberately.

He stood and walked over to her. He wanted to
touch her, kiss her, they both knew that, but he did not. He said
before leaving her there, “Get some rest. We’ll leave at dawn.”

* * * *

The only one to see them off whilst it was
still dark out, was her father. Everyone else was sleeping in. Deme
had spent time talking with his parents last night after the party.
He had gotten his baggage loaded afterwards. He also got a glimpse
of the bronze skirt and jacket haven wore with white silk blouse
under it this morning. It fit her well and looked quite dashing
with embroidered gold closures on the short jacket. When she had
walked to the coach, he noted the dyed ankle boots, very smart, and
she had on supple white gloves.

Last night he had come to the realization she
had always had a fashionable wardrobe, and that she had good taste,
an excellent eye for what suited her. She was a fascinating woman.
That mixture of spit and fire, able to handle a coach, weapons,
curse him and tell him what for. In addition, the elegant
sophisticate last night, the lovely woman in a stunning gown who
looked at him with half-mast eyes, secret thoughts. Even the one
who laughed with his sister, or the part bold part shy erotic one
during their brief encounter?

Holding the coach door while she climbed in,
Deme admired the gold and black cloak she wore too. The hood was
not up.; the color looked good on her. She wore her hair down. It
was silky and shimmering.

“Quite a change, isn’t it.” He said when he
climbed in and sat opposite. “Us sharing a coach.”

Her father closed the door and she clasped
his hand a moment before he stepped back and signaled the
driver.

She then gave Deme her attention. He felt
that natural attraction magnify. They were close, on opposite
sides, but close. Her lashes were darkened a bit, her color high
and her lips moist.

“Quite. Although weather or not we’ll survive
each other’s company, remains to be seen.”

He grinned glad she was in a sharp-witted
mood. He got comfortable, slumping a bit toward the corner, undoing
his coat, and propping his boots on the opposite seat. “I’m told
I’m quite charming.”

“You’re a sarcastic ass most of the time.”
She raked her gaze down him but smiled too.

He was going to enjoy this trip.

“We’re you annoyed when your father told you
of my offer.”

“Vastly.” She unlatched the cloak at the
throat. The well-appointed coach was warmed and so she pushed it
back before shifting so that she laid it in the seat beside
her.

“It’s not much out of the way, the estates,
and it saves us suffering some posting Inn. Are you excited now
that we’re actually going, to meet your Aunt?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It all seems
so—finished. I mean, of course it will be nice. Father waited so
long. I understand why. She shook her head. “I don’t know what to
expect.”

“Expect to meet someone who knew your mother,
and can tell you about her.”

“I will.”

She eyed him a moment. “I’m trying to figure
out what you’re up to.”

“Me?” he arched his brow.

“Yes. I believe you might actually, finally,
take up some of your responsibilities, but I do not why you are
even concerned with the revelations in my life to escort me.
Nothing is really changed. My father is a coachman. I am certainly
the same person, and will not suddenly transform into a woman who
never wears trousers or whatever it is you may think a woman
should. And a Marquis would not bother.”

“We both know my family is unconventional.
They took you in long before you or I knew of any—connections to
the aristocracy. And I’m not just any Marquis.” His smile was
mocking. “I’ve a bloody horrid reputation.

“There’s that too.” her stare was dry. “If I
cared for a reputation, which I don’t, it wouldn’t be much after
everyone hears of this trip.”

“Everyone won’t hear because my family is
loyal. Even if they did, who gives a bloody damn? And—did you
change the subject.” He laughed.

She stared at his mouth then lifted her gaze.
“Yes.”

His smile faded a moment, his senses reacting
to her looking at his mouth. “What was it…?”

She looked away and out the window. “Your
motives.”

“Everyone will assume you’re my
mistress.”

Haven stared. “And that’s your motive?”

“For the trip, no. My motive is genuine. I’m
going north on business.” He searched her face. “For arranging it
so that we’re together? Are you sure you want to know?”

She nodded.

He studied her under his lashes then drawled,
“Very well. You are an adult and we have never been anything but
blunt with each other. You don’t play games, so let us admit that
we started something in that little office—true?”

“Yes.”

He watched her rake her teeth over her lip.
“You are close to my family, our lives are somewhat intertwined.
This attraction is not going anywhere and we can spend a lot of
time playing cat and mouse, but that is not your way either. And, I
lied. You know I lied, don’t you.”

“Yes.” Her tone was rougher.

He was relieved to hear her agree. “I
shouldn’t bother trying to deceive you, dear girl. You know me
better than anyone. So here it ‘tis. We want each other. I am glad
you are finding out about your mother and family, but in the grand
scheme of things, other than, it will please you—it does not bloody
matter. It didn’t before I knew.”

She looked out the window.

He heard the husk in his tone but it did not
bother him at this point. “I asked you to be my mistress because I
wanted you as a lover. You turned down the first. But it wasn’t the
ideal way or time to debate that.”

“And now is?” her brow rose.

“Haven.”

She turned to regard him.

He said softly, “I’m yours for the taking.
How is that? And you are right, I am not good enough for you
either.”

“For how long, for this trip, in between
taverns and—”she sighed and leaned her head back, closing her
eyes.

“I won’t touch another woman. Why would I?
Why would I seek something that never has been more than a release
when I could have passion? And you are—a passionate woman.”

“I don’t trust you, Deme” She had not opened
her eyes.

“I know that. You can, but I am just putting
the truth out there for you. At any time while we are together, and
we will be. I am offering, asking, to be your lover.”

Haven groaned and opened her eyes.

He smiled, full, white, and rakish. “I’ll beg
a little, if you want me to.”

She laughed rather helplessly.

“Ah.” He enjoyed that sound, and let his gaze
linger on her smile. “My charm is working already.”

“Spoiled.” She shook her head.

He arched his brow, still grinning. “I will
you, in bed. Out of it too.”

Haven sighed unable to bear that rogue in
him. She knew her answer, and so did he. They both had, the moment
they sat across from each other in the coach.

They rode for quite a few miles in silence,
but when she murmured, “What shall I do at the estates, on the
way?”

“Whatever you like. Mother trained you, I am
sure you know more about it than I do. Examine the manor house,
observe the staff, make sure I am fed, because I will be locked up
with the books half the time and touring with the steward the
next.”

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