Page 56 of The Devil Himself
Instead, Rys had been forced to take a small cart that the innkeeper used to haul things around the perimeter of the inn yard and retrieve Gareth and Luc and their bags, leaving the driver to deal with the problem of the wheel. Which would only be solved when the wheelwright could be brought over from the next town. So it would no doubt be tomorrow morning before everything was fixed. He didn’t like the situation, but he wouldpay the man handsomely once they got back on the road toward their estate.
Therefore, they were forced to settle at the inn, which at least was clean and comfortable. The innkeeper jovial, and his wife was an excellent cook.
After they had settled in a room on the second story, with Sauce Box Joe being given a smaller room tucked under the stairs on the ground floor, they dried off and changed their clothing and headed down for dinner.
After a warming and belly-filling meal, Sauce Box Joe had taken Gareth up to their room so he could change into his night clothes and crawl into bed.
Rys took the opportunity to sit by the fire in the common room of the inn with Luc, both of them nursing a glass of brandy that they had wheedled out of the innkeeper for a pretty penny.
The only other person in the common room was a lady, clearly a widow, who sat with her back to them at a small writing desk that was provided for the guests, scribbling away at a journal. She had looked at them from under a dark veil when they’d entered but had seemed to ignore them since. Something about her seemed familiar, but a goodly many women came to the Playground in fake mourning so they could be anonymous. Maybe she was one of them.
They sat in padded chairs, their booted feet stretched out toward the fire, legs crossed as if they were sitting in one of their clubs back in London, enjoying the finest Scots whisky. The only thing making this entire ordeal bearable was Luc was there with him, and Rys was happy to sit and stare at his golden angel by firelight, with a small smile playing on his lips.
“What on earth is so amusing?” Rys raised his glass to his lips to take a sip after he asked the question.
Luc gave him a slow appraisal, gaze burning where it touched him. “I was just thinking how only weeks ago I could neverhave imagined being on the High Road with the Devil Himself, heading for one of the Hallowarren estates.”
“Hallowarren House, no less. The seat of the damn title itself. The jewel in the crown, so to speak.” His lips twisted with the irony of it.
“Yes, well, I would never have imagined that I could be here with you in this sort of a wild adventure.” Luc’s eyes glinted with amusement.
“It does rather bring to mind some mad escapade akin to eloping to Gretna Green, does it not?” Not that he and Luc could make a run for the Scottish border and get married like other people would in that scenario, but it amused him to think of it, nonetheless.
“Precisely.” Luc caught him with the intensity of his gaze, the smile fading. “There’s no one else I would rather be on an adventure with.”
“I feel the same. I am only sad that we cannot get a room without Gareth, but I didn’t feel it was safe to leave him in a separate room with Sauce Box Joe. If something had happened, people could just accuse Joe of kidnapping the boy, and he would end up in gaol and then hanging from a rope.”
“I understand.” Luc chuckled. “That fact doesn’t keep me from wanting to sneak away to Joe’s little room under the stairs and let you have your way with me.” Luc lowered his voice on the last to avoid their fellow traveler hearing, and Rys’s body tightened at the very thought, his cock perking up against the fall of his breaches.
“I’m sure there’s somewhere we could—” Rys stopped himself. He was no untried youth to sneak off to the stables and make love to someone while straw stuck to his arse.
“I can wait until we reach Hallowarren House,” Luc said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t dream of you tonight.”
“I’m the only one that you should be dreaming of, so that suits me to the ground.” The possessive feeling he had for Luc amazed him at every turn, but he was learning to live with it. In fact, he was learning to enjoy it.
Luc’s eyes twinkled for him. “Absolutely, although I admit that I also dream of a bath. A real bath, not just a basin of water which is tepid at best. Or a rain dousing, though that makes my hair do wild things.”
Oh, a bath. With Luc. “Your hair is perfectly fine. And if I remember correctly, there’s a large copper tub in the marquess’s chambers at the house. We will have them fill it for us so we might share a bath.”
Luc’s cheeks took on twin flags of red, and he licked his lips. “Yes, please. That sounds heavenly.”
Rys sipped his brandy again. It really wasn’t bad. Of course, like all things alcoholic, it got better after you drank a bit.
Luc swirled his brandy in the glass, watching it spin. “So how far behind us do you think Arthur is now?”
“I have no idea. Joe’s men are watching for him, and they’re supposed to follow him once he arrives at the school. I know Deacon’s men were riding on ahead to look for him along the road. I thought about having them just dispatch him, but I need for him to make a real move toward Gareth so that I have something to take to the magistrate. I want him transported if not hanged.” He found it not at all odd that the idea of Arthur being shot or hanged or in some other way gone from him forever was pleasant. He supposed the fact made him a very bad man, but really Arthur had tried to kill him and his lover, had killed their eldest brother, and Rys could be somewhat vengeful.
Or if he were truly honest, he could be incredibly vengeful.
“Now you’re the one smiling,” Luc pointed out. “I daresay that you’re not smiling about me. At least I hope not, considering the tone of it.”
“In this moment, I was thinking about Arthur being hanged.”
There was noise from the lady at the desk, the sound of something cracking, and she murmured a rather shocking curse. She rose, and he realized she was going to ask for another quill.
Luc understood. He’d choked a bit on his brandy as he took another sip. “I suppose I can see where that would put a smile on your face. I was thinking more of transporting him to Australia or the Americas.”
“But then he could turn back up like a bad penny.”
