Page 3 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
Then he saw her. The woman in blue again, this time without anyone pinching or ogling her. The sight was striking enough, but then she paused under a tree, pulling off her bonnet to raise her face to what breeze could be had. Fine blond hair blew back from her cheeks, and her perfect bow of a mouth curved in delight. Beautiful. A country miss, complete with a basket on her arm. Her lush, unspoiled beauty was the kind that could only grow in the wilds. In London, she would be painted and sullen, her body trussed into dresses that maximized assets and minimized flaws. But this woman had a simple gown, and while he watched, those puppies he’d imagined suddenly appeared.Four of them, barking and leaping from somewhere he couldn’t see.
She smiled when she saw them, and then—to his shock—she laughed, so musical a sound that he was riveted. Bells could not have sounded so pure.
He was awed. It was his idealistic mind, he knew. The one that believed in unsullied beauty. She knelt down, oblivious to the dirt, to tickle the puppies. And her laughter continued to chime in the air.
He found himself moving toward her without choosing it. He had no idea what to say to an innocent miss. He’d never known a woman who could be so sweet. And yet—
“Miss Bluebell! Miss Bluebell!”
A boy barely out of short pants came tearing around the corner. She looked up, her expression surprised as she held out her arms. He careened into them, and she had to use all her strength to keep them both upright.
She said something too low for Bram to hear, especially as the boy kept talking right over her despite being short of breath. Rude brat.
“Da says…you come. Right away!”
At that moment, one of the puppies attacked the angel. It was nothing more than a growl and bite as it grabbed hold of her dress and shook. She released a frustrated sigh before she picked up the creature and disentangled it from her skirt. In thanks, the puppy enthusiastically licked her face.
He saw the wet tongue tasting her chin and neck. He heard her laugh, this time deeper—throatier—and he felt himself harden as he hadn’t in years. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair flying free as the dog laved her. Bram’s mouth went dry as he watched, and he abruptly thought of so many things, all dark and carnal.
“Miss Bluebell!” the child cried, and Bram wanted to spank the idiot for drawing the woman’s attention.Don’t look at him. Look at me!The thought was bizarre in his mind, but it was no less loud.
The woman finally managed to pull the puppy away from her face. She must have said something because the boy nodded vigorously and pointed at the inn. At first Bram thought the child was directing her to look at him, but he soon realized the truth. Neither boy nor woman had seen him, and the disappointment of that was yet another shock. What was wrong with him?
Another puppy grabbed hold of her skirt, another distraction when he wanted to be her focus. He must have made a sound because the woman abruptly looked at him. She arched her brows, and her rose-colored mouth molded into a perfect oval of surprise. He held her gaze, transfixed by the aquamarine clarity there, especially with the sun full on her face.
Then she blushed.
Sweet heaven, she was so beautiful his knees nearly buckled. And that was a step too far for him. No woman could be that beautiful or that good. So he allowed his bitter half to take control. Hadn’t he already done this once? Didn’t he have the scars to remind him how beautiful women betray?
He used his anger to put strength in his legs while the woman rose to her feet, shaking out her skirts before grabbing her basket as the boy babbled on.
“There’s a lady and gents at the inn. Right fancy, every one. They need your tea, Miss Bluebell. Right away! Right now, Da says. Right—”
“Now. Yes, thank you, Thomas.” Her voice was more cultured than most, but the roots of this provincial village were heavy in her long vowels.
She moved his way, and he noted the square set of her shoulders and the jut of her chin. She was proud then, and probably studying him for a weakness as her gaze took in the whole of him.
“I think she’s dying!” the boy said in a loud undertone. “She presses ’er fingers to ’er mouth and she sweats to stink! That’s what Da says. Wot if she dies right in our parlor? What if—”
“She’s increasing,” Bram said. He hadn’t meant to speak. He had intended to simply watch and learn, which was his usual way of dealing with strange women. But the moment they neared, he found himself speaking simply to silence the prattling child. “It’s morning sickness, and Clarissa was tired of the drive.”
The miss cocked her head as he spoke, listening closely to his words. The idealistic part of him admired the color of her eyes and her honest face, but the bitter part of him knew only liars paid such close attention to their surroundings.
“She needs something to settle ’er stomach?” the miss asked.
She needed a good spanking. She and Dicky both, for conning seven peers of the realm into giving them thousands of pounds for a make-believe sapphire mine. But that wasn’t his job. Preventing this witch from poisoning the two idiots was.
He moved deliberately slow, easing his way in front of her. He was a big man, a good head taller, and he used his height to full advantage as he glared down at her.
“They don’t need what you’re selling.” No one did. Because it was all lies.
“You know wot a lady in ’er early months needs?”
“Please, sir,” the boy piped up. “My da will whip me for sure if she don’t come.”
The woman dropped a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You won’t be whipped, Thomas. Go inside.”
“But—”
