Page 5 of Good Duke Gone Far

Hearing the lone coachman roar out a string of expletives, the like Kat had never encountered before, caught her off guard; yet far less so than the falter of the carriage a millisecond after the obscene cord of words.

A loud crack ripped through the air.

Instinct made Kat reach first for the curtains and then the cushions in front of her. Thankfully the carriage did not teeter over. Stabilizing herself, Kat caught her breath by the time the coachman flung open the door.

“Sorry, milady. I turned my head for a second and some wild animal veered in front of us.” The breath Kat had caught earlier was quickly stifled by the reeking vapors of alcohol on the man’s wheezing. “The wheel’s broken. Looks like we’re both alright, at least.” He rubbed his hands over his mouth and then grabbed his man parts below. Apparently to vouch for the wellbeing of his two most important body parts.

“We’ve got to go to the town just up a ways to get some help and repair the wheel.” He leered at her with blank eyes that had clearly seen too much and could currently see nearly nothing at all.

Like hell she was going anywhere with this man.

“I’ll wait here.”

The man huffed and grabbed the tops of his breeches. “You best be coming with me. I can’t leave you here on the side of the road all by yourself.”

“You can.” Kat reached for the small dagger in her boot and pointed it at the man. “And you will.”

“Jessas, woman. I’ll just grab help on my own.” Kat was almost positive she heard him mutter something like,Ain’t worth it. Unsure of what intentions he had been harboring, Kat shuddered at the thought of being alone with him.

The crunching sound of the gravel relayed the man’s departure, and Kat sat back in her seat and closed the door. She would come up with a plan. She always did. For now, she didn’t mind the stillness.

If the town wasn’t too far, she would just wait for a while until he had put some distance between them, and then she might trail a ways behind him. Perhaps he’d drink just a touch more and then pass out. In a ditch. With thorns. And poison ivy.

***

THE ROAD AHEAD OF him was not well populated. Though well-traversed, it was not the day for many travelers. So it wouldn’t take any great amount of energy to spot a carriage with the Duke of Beauford’s emblem on it. Davin would have provided any means of transportation Kat had asked for, surely she would have asked for and accepted the best.

Despite his best efforts to maintain his frustration, he found all vexation floating away in the breeze. It always cleared his mind to be riding outdoors. And it was only when he felt Reggie’s letter in his inner pocket crumple against his chest that any amount of irksomeness befell him. It wasn’t the letter. Obviously it wasn’t the letter itself. It was everything the letter directed him to do. The woman he had tirelessly worked to avoid.

He spent almost as much time and effort avoiding her as he did trying to find himself some purposeful work. And it wasn’t his choice. Really. He was always just thrown in the mix with her. But it was true that in every group of people there would always be one with whom a person got along the least. It was a matter of simple fact. Even if someone got along well with everyone, or most people, which Quinn did.

Over the last few hours, Quinn hadn’t seen more than a handful of people traveling. So when he spied the carriage up ahead pulled off to the side of the road, he approached with caution. It did not have the ducal crest on it, but if someone was in trouble, he would see how he could help.

Quinn dismounted and let the reins fall to the ground, signaling to Muffin to stay. Not wanting to startle anyone, he called out, “Hello! Is anyone in there? Are you hurt?”

He could hear some shuffling. The carriage swayed a bit with the movement, and then he was pretty sure he overheard a female voice muttering, “Bloody hell!”

The next few steps he took more quickly until he reached the carriage and knocked.

More shuffling, another sway, another invective. And then the last person on earth he expected to see alone in a broken down carriage on the side of the road, pushed the door open an inch. With all the nonchalance of a person taking tea in their drawing room, she intoned, “Yeeesss?” As if to say, how can I help you? When that was what he was here to ask.

And though he was angrier with her than if she had slapped him, he noticed the faintest smirk playing on her lips. He coughed. He had never been this close to her before. Or maybe he had. But he had certainly never been this close to her before,alone.

Here, with less than a foot between them and no one to observe them, he could see the leafy green color of her wide set eyes hidden beneath long, thick lashes. And he couldn’t stop his eyes from further inspection. They were already analyzing the color of her plump lips. God, they looked soft. Her soft, flamingo-colored lips. Yes, flamingos. That was the color of her lips. He had seen pictures and heard of the ridiculous birds. That's what she was reminding him of now. A flamingo. And that fire burning in his core as he stared at those flamingo-colored lips had nothing to do with wanting to feel those lips on his own, or elsewhere. It had everything to do with being nettled by her and how she caused him to think of flamingos at a time like this.

What the blazes was she doing on the side of the road? There was only one way to find out. It was not the way he would normally take. It was not the way he would take with anyone else. It was only the way he knew how to take with her.

“What the blazes are you doing on the side of the road?” He put a strong larynx behind his question.

“What does it matter to you?”

Did she have no concept of the danger she was in? She was literally a sitting duck. A sign asking for trouble.

“You do realize you’re all alone, don’t you?”

“Am I?” She feigned a glance up and then down the road. “So it appears I am. Hmpff.”

The bits of dust shaken up from the horse and carriage travel had long sunk to the ground and buried themselves for safe keeping. Those specks of dust were louder than the silence between him and Kat.

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