Temptation and Surrender by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

majesty, a watchful sentinel, pale gray against the black velvet sky.
    She drew in a deep breath. Remained silent and still before the window, letting the unaccustomed peace slide over and through her.
    She refused to think about Jonas Tallent, or the challenge she’d taken on with the inn. Refused to dwell even on her hunt for her family’s treasure.
    Through the dark of the night, calmness, serenity, and something deeper—something stronger, more enduring—reached her.
    Soothed her.
    When eventually she turned, picked up her candle, and headed for her new bed, she felt—unexpectedly—as if she’d finally come home.
     
    T he next morning at ten o’clock, Em stepped out of the front door of the Red Bells. With Henry beside her and the common to their left, she walked briskly up the road along the row of cottages.
    She’d donned her Sunday bonnet, appropriate as they were off to visit the rectory. When applied to that morning, Edgar had suggested that she speak with the curate, a Mr. Filing, about tutoring Henry.
    The inn’s kitchen had been surprisingly comfortable when they’d gathered there for breakfast. Issy had happily supplied pancakes, and the tea discovered in one of the pantries had proved perfectly palatable.
    Edgar had arrived at eight o’clock to open the front doors and sweep out the taproom. When, rather disappointed, Em had commented on the lack of morning customers, he’d broken the news that he rarely saw anyone before noon.
    That would change.
    By nine, Em had spoken with and rehired Hilda, the local woman who had previously served as cook—that she’d immediately started exchanging recipes with Issy had been an excellent sign—and also two girls, Hilda’s nieces, to work alongside her. She’d also hired Hilda’s cousin’s strapping daughters, Bertha and May, to start on the dusting and cleaning.
    As she’d informed Jonas Tallent, culinary improvements were at the top of her many lists. Once she had Henry settled, she would turn her mind to the very real imperative of replenishing the inn’s supplies.
    The day was fine, a light breeze whipping the ends of her bonnet’s ribbons and flirting with the ties of the spring green spencer she wore over her pale green walking gown.
    They’d just passed the duck pond when she heard a heavy footstep behind her.
    “Good morning, Miss Beauregard.”
    She halted, drew a quick breath to steel her senses—and turned. “Good morning, Mr. Tallent.”
    His eyes locked with hers. The breath didn’t help; her senses still leapt, her lungs still seized. He was wearing a light hacking jacket over buckskin breeches that molded to his thighs before disappearing into well-polished riding boots.
    After an instant’s pause, his gaze switched to Henry.
    Who was studying him, one step away from bristling in her defense.
    “Allow me to introduce my brother, Henry.” To Henry she said, “This is Mr. Tallent, owner of the inn.”
    She hoped the label would remind her brother of the necessity of being civil to her employer.
    Jonas found himself looking at a young but distinctly male version of his innkeeper; there was the same brightness in the youth’s eyes, although they weren’t of quite the same color. The lad was tall, almost a head taller than his diminutive sister, and lanky at present, although doubtless that would change. Regardless, no one seeing the pair would miss the connection, which explained, at least to Jonas who had a sister of his own, the incipient glower in Henry Beauregard’s eyes.
    Jonas held out his hand, nodded politely. “Henry.”
    The boy blinked, but grasped his hand and shook it, nodding in reply. “Mr. Tallent.”
    Releasing him, Jonas glanced at his sister. “Taking the air—or do you have a destination in mind?”
    The latter was obviously the case; she’d been striding along at a determined clip. She hesitated for a second, then said, “We’re on our way to the rectory.”
    Turning, she resumed her march. He fell in