Page 35 of This Haunted Heart

“Stand up,” I said. With great reluctance, she obeyed. I needed reassurance that I could take her elsewhere and she’d behave, so I dragged her close. “Kiss it and make it feel better.”

If looks could kill, I’d be cold in the ground. Her eyes narrowed to dagger points. God above and furies below, she was a vision angry.

“I don’t want to,” she ground out.

“Do it anyway,” I said, giving her throat a gentle squeeze.

Nostrils flaring, Rynn rose up on her toes. “You will rue the day,” she hissed in my ear, rekindling my smile. Then her lips brushed my neck. I felt that tiny kiss in every cell of my body.

“Attagirl,” I purred. “Feels better already.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

Her hand in mine, I guided her over to the pitcher and basin and wet a fresh cloth.

She turned to face me when I beckoned her to, chin dropped in defeat. I didn’t like seeing her that way. I preferred her with fire in her eyes. Gathering her hair, I scooped it over her shoulder, then brushed the cold cloth along the back of her neck until the tension in her limbs loosened. I wiped the sweat from her nose and cheeks and wet it again to cool her heated skin.

She sagged against me, resting her brow on my chest. “I still hate you,” she rumbled.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, hellcat,” I said, hugging her to me.

* **

After lunch I made myself comfortable in the garden with a view of the road so I could watch for the next passing stage. Rynn joined me, still in her dressing gown. I’d brought my trunk down with her valise inside and a bag I had missed that was apparently full of shawls. She wore a floral one tucked around her shoulders, trying to disguise her clothing that was only appropriate for a casual morning spent at home. The trunk was significantly lighter now with most of our things in scraps upstairs. I hadn’t needed any help carrying it.

Finally, the rattle of steel wheels and hooves broke the monotony of silence. The Concord that rumbled down the gravel road toward us was pulled by four massive Belgian horses, russet coats gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. But the driver wasn’t slowing at all. I leapt up and waved my arms, hailing him.

After the dust settled, Rynn accompanied me to greet the driver. The reinsman had dark umber skin and wore a fashionable derby atop his raven hair. He removed his hat politely for Rynn, introducing himself as Mr. Mazibuko. Rynn stood at my side holding her middle, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious. We made an odd pair, but the driver never commented on our appearance, his smile warm and inviting.

“You keep beautiful animals,” Rynn told him.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He beamed down at her.

“May I have a moment to get acquainted with them?” she asked.

“They would be very disappointed if you didn’t,” he said, climbing down from the driver’s seat to join her beside his horses. “Especially Thando there in the lead. Pet him first, or he’ll be jealous and misbehave.”

I waited impatiently as Rynn pet the horses and learned thatMr. Mazibuko had come to Pennsylvania after following his brother here some years ago to help him work on his ranch. The stagecoach was his, but the horses belonged to the brother.

It was more information than I ever wanted to know about a complete stranger, but that was Rynn. She smiled prettily and made her cute quips, and people opened their hearts and wagged their tongues. I don’t even think she always noticed when she turned on her magic and became a vortex of delight. She just was.

And I hated it.

Hated that I was as much a big sap for it as everyone else—probably the biggest. Hated how it made her such a gifted trickster when she wanted to be.

After all that, Mr. Mazibuko was willing to take us wherever we needed to go and for an overly fair price—a price Rynn’s kindness had likely lowered. I paid the man gladly. There was just one problem.

“That’s an awful lot of packages,” Rynn said as we gathered around the doors of the large stage.

It was big enough to easily fit nine people—ten if they were small—but the seats were stuffed with mail bags and parcels, luggage, and boxes. I was eager to have my nightingale home, however, so when the driver suggested we lay the bags down and sit on them, I immediately agreed to do so.

Chapter 10

Rynn Mavis

It took some maneuvering to spread out the parcels in such a way that I could lounge over them—legs stretched across the seats in front of us—without having the corner of a box prodding my hip. But as the stage rumbled forward, I had to admit it wasn’t an uncomfortable way to travel.

Finley watched out the window as the inn grew smaller behind us. “What do you suppose the owners will think when they see what we’ve done to their room?”

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