Page 115 of Twice Tempted by a Rogue

Myles pulled back from the embrace, surveying the bruise on Cora’s cheek and the tattered edge of her cloak. “What’s happened to you?” He turned a burning gaze on Rhys and Bellamy. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Rhys said impatiently, “Oh, suddenly you care about the girl’s welfare?”

“Of course I care. And there’s nothing sudden about it.” He rubbed his hands up and down the girl’s arms. “I love her, more than my own life. Would have said as much the other day, if someone hadn’t smashed his fist in my face.”

“Truly?” Cora asked, blinking hard. “You … you love me?”

“Aye, truly.” He pulled her aside from the crowd, just a step. “I love you. And I’ve a question to ask you, but I’m just vain enough that I hate to ask it looking like this.”

“Probably for the best,” she said shyly. “It’s come to my attention that I may be too easily swayed by fine looks and charm.”

“I’m low on both at the moment.”

“Yes, you are.” She smiled, feathering her fingers through his hair. “And if it’s worth asking, the question will keep.”

“I see,” Myles said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You mean to make me work for it.”

She nodded, lacing her arms about his neck.

“Good girl. You should.” Bending his head to hers, the man kissed her soundly. And quite thoroughly, considering the swollen state of his jaw.

As the assembled crowd cheered the young couple, Bellamy came to stand at Rhys’s side. “Spares me the trouble of finding her a new place.”

Damn Gideon Myles and his scene-stealing. Rhys wanted his own happy reunion. “Where the devil is Meredith?”

“Would you hand me the scissors, please?” From her perch atop the crate, Meredith braced her weight on the window frame and leaned sideways, extending an arm. “They’re just there, over by the lace.”

“Here?” Riffling his sandy hair with one hand, Darryl scouted the heaps of fabric and thread until he located the missing sewing shears. Then he loped across the cottage loft and delivered them to her hand with a gallant flourish. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Darryl.”

The youth smiled. “Anything for you, Mrs. Maddox.”

Meredith returned to her task. She stretched a length of twine from the top of the window to the sill, then cut it to the exact length. Looping that strand around her neck for safekeeping, she started another measurement crossways.

“What are these?” Darryl asked.

“What are what?”

“These.”

Craning her neck, she glimpsed him holding a misshapen lump of wood in his hand, turning it this way and that for examination.

“They’re flowers,” she said.

“Are you certain? Look like vegetables to me. Aren’t these cabbages over here? And this one has the look of celery.”

“It’s a tulip. They’re flowers.” She smiled to herself as she turned back to her measurements.

“If you say so.”

She heard a dull thunk as Darryl tossed the tulip finial aside.

“You surely are anxious to make these curtains,” he said. “What’s the hurry, Mrs. Maddox? I thought you’d be more concerned about repairing the tavern.”

“That tavern is perpetually in need of something.” Frowning with concentration, she folded her lip under her teeth. “There,” she said, cutting off the final window measurement. To Darryl, she continued, “I just want this place looking nice by the time Rhys comes back. Looking like a home.”

Darryl chuckled. “Mrs. Maddox, Lord Ashworth’s not coming back.”

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