was a remarkable tease. “You will not leave me here.”
He did not turn around. “Are you so certain of that?”
“Entirely.”
The dog loped after the horses. After a dozen yards it paused and looked back at her. Diantha’s breaths shortened, a thread of panic twining up her spine.
“Mr. Yale, you may as well cease this teasing,” she called. “I can see right through it.”
He slowed his horse and looked around. “It devastates me that we must part company continuing to misunderstand one another, Miss Lucas.” He bowed again. “But good day to you, and I wish you good fortune at the farm.” He clucked to the horses and they moved off again.
She gripped her damp gloves together and wiggled her toes in her soggy boots.
“I had a plan,” she shouted. “And I brought with me sufficient funds. I did not go off half-cocked on this mission. I had a plan.”
He seemed to be too distant to hear her. She ground her teeth and muttered, “True gentleman, my mother’s virtue.” She threw back her shoulders. “All right, I apologize!” Then not quite so loudly, because frankly she could not bear the humiliation of it: “Please come back.”
The black horse halted, and the other too. Mr. Yale drew them around and returned. Several yards away he dismounted, left the horses standing in the road and walked to her, the dog trailing at his heels. His attention was entirely upon her as though she were the only thing in the world, his usual manner, which of course she had liked very much until now.
He halted quite close, tall and dark and wide-shouldered, his black topcoat swirling about his taut thighs and fine boots, and very much like a man she might be afraid to encounter upon a deserted road in the rain if she did not already know him. But in fact she did not know him, not well, and mostly through her stepsisters. And the night before, when he touched her although he should not have, her knees had buckled. But for his strong hands holding her between the wall and his chest, she would have collapsed.
“Your plan was nonsensical.” His eyes glittered. She could not believe it was anger. A true gentleman, like both her fathers, held his temper from ladies. But the spark in Mr. Yale’s eyes now looked like anger. And a true gentleman did not stroke a lady’s behind in a dark stable.
Her breaths stuttered. “My plan was not nonsensical.”
His stare did not waver.
“All right,” she admitted. “It was. Somewhat. But only insofar as it took a bit longer for you to appear on that coach than I imagined.”
His brow dipped. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, my plan was only nonsensical in that it took a bit longer for you to—”
“For me to appear. Yes. You hadn’t any idea I would be on that coach yesterday.”
She wiggled her brows. “ ‘Are you so certain of that?’ ”
“Mimicry does not suit you, minx. And, yes, I am quite certain, by the simple fact that I hadn’t any idea.”
“ Really? How inconvenient for you. I always have a plan for everything.”
“I am coming to see that.”
“How is it that you came to be on this road without planning it?”
“I was at a house party and the entertainments wore thi—” He halted abruptly. “Naturally, that is immaterial. You did not know I would take that coach.”
“No. I did not know you would, that is true. But I hoped to find a hero to help me. And then you appeared and you have quite the air of a hero about you, Mr. Yale. I have always thought so.”
“I suppose I ought to be flattered by your words and no doubt sent to my knees by those dimples that have conveniently appeared at this moment—”
“I thought so until last night, that is.”
His handsome features went still. “Miss Lucas,” he said in an altered tone, “pray allow me to beg your pardon for—”
“You needn’t speak of it. Men will do foolish things when they have been drinking excessively, after all.” She did not want to hear him apologize for
Learning to Kill: Stories