The Coachman's Daughter by Gayle Eden Read Free Book Online

“You mistake the matter, m’dear. It has little to do with
her.”
    “I am sure I understand perfectly.” She
placed a hand on his shoulder and eased him back a bit. “This is
not our first trip to this particular tavern.”
    “Right.” He captured her hand before she
could move it, never taking his eyes off her. Haven did not know if
he was aware of retaining it, but he did and rasped, “My protector,
Haven Mulhern, making sure the Wimberly heir doesn’t get gutted by
some doxie or break his neck whilst foxed.”
    “Just so.” She refused to look from his stare
or react to his mocking tone. She’d already let him push her;
effect her, more than she dared.
    He was unconsciously rubbing his thumb over
her hand, and his mussed hair tumbled on his brow like that did not
help. His shirt was partly undone, the firelight showing his
natural dark skin and sinew. It was disgusting that such a… Rake,
could look so good.
    Whatever he saw of her own features, whatever
the fire enhanced, she heard him murmur, “In a gown, I believe you
would be quite ravishing, Mulhern. Decidedly not, like a watchdog.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered and then came up to meet
hers. “I would almost dare that you could pass for a Lady of
quality.”
    “I have no such desire.” She pulled her hand
free and glanced away from him. “Go find your wench, my lord, so
that we may return home before another downpour.”
    He sighed and stretched out his legs a
moment, withdrawing his arm from around her chair back long enough
to finger comb his hair. “It seems I am to be deprived of both
oblivion and pleasure, Mulhern.” He slid his feet back and stood.
“I’ll meet you outside.”
    She did not move for a moment, wondering at
his mood, then stood and drew on her coat, eyeing him in the
process of raising her hood.
    He stood backlit by the fire, his expression
too enigmatic for a man who should be foxed. Oh. God. She really
needed to heed her own good sense sometimes.
    With a nod, she left and went out into the
damp night. Going to the head of the team, she stroked the horses
and spoke to them before climbing up on her perch. When he came
out, hat on, coat on, he did not look at her before climbing
inside.
    It was slow going, thanks to fog, though the
horses could find their way by instinct, so well did they know the
roads.
    They were already on Wimberly lands when he
knocked on the door.
    She slowed and expected it when he emerged
and jumped a ditch to reach the clearing beyond. Haven set the
brake and got down; reaching inside the coach, she pulled a case
from under the seat and took out a cloth and flask. The flask had
lemon water in it. She went in his direction, feeling her boots
sink and slide in mud. Finding him at length, slightly bent over,
hands on his knees.
    “Here.”
    He took the items blindly, uncapped, rinsed,
spit, wet the cloth and cleaned his tongue and teeth, and then
wiped his face before straightening and doing the mouth rinsing
several times.
    Taking the empty flask, she pushed her hood
back and watched him arch his neck, drawing in deep breaths through
his nose repeatedly.
    When he lowered it and glanced at her, she
refused to let herself respond to that handsome visage. He deserved
his misery.
    “I was taking my time.”
    “For a change.” He smiled slightly. “I half
expected to be thrown about as usual.”
    “I was tempted, but the fog is too thick, I
wouldn’t risk the horses.”
    “I am glad you have a care for the horses,”
he said ironically.
    She did not know what to think about that
twinkle in his eyes.
    He searched in his watch pocket a moment and
then extracted peppermint, sliding it between his white teeth
whilst still watching her.
    After a moment of staring at her, he
murmured, “Men don’t have a passion for women like that,
Mulhern.”
    “I don’t recall asking if you did.” She
turned to walk toward the coach, hearing him walking a bit behind
her.
    A few steps from the coach he