Page 15 of Stealing a Scoundrel's Heart
Foxton slung an arm over Alister’s shoulder. “Let’s go wait with the others by the coaches.”
With nothing to obscure his view of Marjorie's progress, Alister said, “Very well. Following the minx is a damn nuisance.” Women normally trailed him about, not the other way around.
He marched directly to his coach.
Both Marjorie and Mr. Paynes beat him there. “My thanks, Mr. Paynes, and I look forward to discussing matters with Lord Crawford upon my return to London. Have no fear, I shall convey your concerns to his lordship post haste.”
Mr. Paynes bowed once more. “My thanks to ye, Lady Whalen.” The shepherd made a clicking noise with his tongue and accompanied it with large arm movements. The flock slowly began to shift to the side of the road.
Damn. The woman had succeeded where he had failed. Rather than feeling defeat, he felt elated, proud of her poise and abilities. What other hidden talents did Marjorie possess? He was keen to discover the answer.
The continuous jostling of the coach caused Marjorie’s head to ache and rendered her stomach uneasy. Dark clouds and the constant rain had slowed their progress, but Alister had assured her they would arrive at her new home soon. She peered out the coach window. A rusty iron gate hung half off its hinges a yard or two away.
“Whoa,” the coach man yelled, and Alister’s travel coach dipped and rolled backward before it came to a halt.
“Stay here,” Alister commanded and exited the vehicle.
Grr. The man was overbearing at times when he shed his mask as a scoundrel and donned the one of Lord Dartman. It was as if he was forcing himself to be something—no, someonehe wasn’t. Marjorie blinked away the peculiar thought and glanced down at the road. It was pitted and muddy. She’d already ruined two pairs of shoes traversing through the mud to attend to her personal needs, and she couldn’t afford to ruin her last pair of walking boots. She poked her head out of the door.
Alister, flanked by His Grace, Whistlestop, Foxton, and Hurlington, stood in the rain at the back of the coach.
“The wheel is stuck, my lord. We need to lighten the coach to rock the vehicle free.” The coachman rose and placed his hands on his hips, scanning the road ahead. “The roads look to have been neglected for some time. Even if we dislodge the coach, I won’t be able to navigate it through—” The poor man waved his hand in the direction of the gate. “That bloody mess. Beg pardon, my lord. I mean it’ll be a challenge to reach the cottage with the rain.”
“Have the footmen carry Lady Whalen’s trunks to the cottage,” Alister ordered and then carefully surveyed the road and the gate that was swinging in the wind. He turned back to address Foxton. “See if you can arrange temporary lodgings for the four of us. I’ll accompany Marjorie and the staff to the cottage.”
The three gentlemen nodded in unison and returned to the coach behind, carefully treading through the mud.
Marjorie quickly ducked back into the coach as Alister turned back around. Skirts arranged, hands casually clasped in her lap, she inhaled and exhaled slowly. Despite her efforts to calm her nerves, she still jumped at the sight of Alister at the coach door.
Hand outstretched, Alister said, “Come?”
She stared at his hand for a moment. It wasn’t a request, but neither had it been an order. It was more like…an invitation. He was giving her a choice. Except there wasn’t an alternative, for she doubted she had it within her to deny the man anything.
When she placed her hand in his, he placed her hand on his shoulder, turned his back to her, and said, “Hop on.”
He didn’t wait for her to comply. He stepped forward, his hand over hers securing her to him, and she fell forward. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs about his trim waist and pressed her chest to his back. The warmth that radiated through her when they briefly touched had been nothing compared to the heat roaring across every inch of her body that came into contact with him.
“Alister,” she whispered into his ear. “Release me. I’m too…” Her mind ceased working as his arms wrapped about her legs and his hands settled on the back of her thighs.
“You’ll twist an ankle if you attempt to walk.” Alister strode carefully down the rutted road toward the gate. “The condition of the road is atrocious, and the entrance is no better. What the devil was Maxwell thinking?”
It wasn’t until they reached the path that veered to the right that Marjorie was able to formulate a coherent response. “I’m certain Maxwell had only good intentions.”
Her arms tightened about Alister at the sight of a quaint cottage. “Ooh. Look!” She pointed to the structure that would be her home. Overgrown ivy covered the front door partially. The cottage looked to have been abandoned for quite some time. But Marjorie smiled from ear to ear. She didn’t care if the conditions were less than ideal. The cottage was hers.
“If the roof leaks, you are returning to London with me,” Alister stated as he carried her toward her home.
“I shall do no such thing.” The man was mad if he thought he could order her about. Marjorie shifted her weight to the side and peered down at the ground.
Alister barked, “Stop moving.”
No longer willing to follow orders, Marjorie wiggled her hips and Alister froze. She pushed back and said, “Put me down.” She then added, “Remember, rule number… hmm, I believe it was number nine. Never object to a woman's request.”
Muttering curses under his breath, Alister let her slide down his back. Marjorie found her footing and marched forward, ready to explore her new home. Not more than a few feet away, she lost her balance and was about to land in the mud when Alister swooped her up into his arms.
“The ground is too soft from the rain. Allow me to fulfill my duty and deliver you to the door.”
Alister cradled her close, and Marjorie peeked up at him and nodded. How the man could irritate her to no end one minute and in the next make her feel like a treasured princess. While Foxton and the others were easy on the eyes and boon conversationalists, Alister made her feel seen, alive, worthy and safe. Safe in his care.
