The Coachman's Daughter

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

Book: The Coachman's Daughter by Gayle Eden Read Free Book Online
Authors: Gayle Eden
Tags: Romance, Historical, Sex, Regency, love, gayle eden, eve asbury, coachmans daughter
said in the
foggy night, “I haven’t made love to a woman in years.”
    “I’m sure you have.” Her foot was on the step
to climb up when he caught her arm. She was forced to lower it,
stand there, with him holding her arm and very close behind her
whilst he leaned his head down and whispered, “These suitors you
mentioned, do you make love with them.”
    “No.”
    “No….” He repeated and then spread chills
over her skin when his lips nearly touched her ear. “Neither do
I…make love.”
    “You have bedded half of London.” She tried
to pull away but the coach was before her.
    He snaked his arm across her waist,
effectively trapping her for a moment, and Haven was too uncertain
of his mood and intent to do more than still herself.
    Somewhere against her hair, he husked,
“Bedding. No, not even that. I have nearly forgotten what the heady
feeling of desire is. Women are drawn to me, to be sure. They are a
complete blur in my mind.”
    “I pity them, then.”
    “Yes. You should. I should be more gallant
and turn down all the offers.”
    She snorted and drew in her breath. “What do
you expect me to say, that I feel sorry for you? You may well be
used, but you do so in turn. If that isn’t what you desire, it’s
your fault.”
    “True. Do you know, until recently I did not
give much thought to you as woman grown, Mulhern.”
    “It’s nothing to you.”
    “Are you a virgin then? Pure, untouched…”
    “That’s none of your business.” She reached
for his arm, pushing it down, and moving her body away.
    Turning to look at him, she saw his slightly
mocking smile and said, “You’re intoxicated. I am quite used to
your being so. There is no point in trying to provoke me, my lord.
Get in the coach. We’re only a mile from home.”
    He reached out so that his fingertips touched
her cheek in the shadow of the hood, and then they grazed her lips.
Haven’s knees shook. Foxed or no, she was struggling to resist the
thrall of him. She was coming to realize what that “effect” he had
on her was, and knowing him as she did, knowing too much, she
needed to resist.
    His sooty lashes half-mast, a particular glow
in those green eyes, he drawled huskily, “Women who don’t know
their appeal are rare, very rare. And such a woman… can intoxicate
a man in every way.”
    Her breath shallow, Haven watched that hand
drop and did not swallow until he moved and got into the coach. For
a while, she leaned against it, eyes closed, fingers scoring over
her lips. Dear God. She had experienced his drunken sarcasm, his
curses, even comical and embarrassing moments with him, but never
this. Whatever was his mood, she had not seen it before. He hid
everything behind raking and drinking. This was the rake, the
seducer, and no wonder women succumbed.
    Once in her seat, having the ribbons, she
hardly saw the foggy night or registered the distance. (We do not
make love), he had said. She was not so green as to not know he
meant being intimate with passion and desire. She had long observed
that he took what was offered, and that females cared not
apparently. She did not feel sorry for him, but she wished she did
not know he made the distinction—and apparently thought much about
it.
    They could not arrive at the coach house soon
enough for Haven.
    She silently unhitched the team after the
Marquis alighted, and then led the horses down to the stable, where
she was met by two sleepy eyed lads who took them.
    Back at the coach house, she removed her coat
and smoothed her hair, the lads showing up smartly, to back the
conveyance in the proper place for cleaning the next morning.
    Sitting on the thick lower step to her
father’s apartments, she had assumed Deme was gone, on his way to
the manor house. However, after the lads left, she heard splashing,
and left her coat where it was, walking to right to find him
coatless too, his hat lay with it on a stool, while he washed his
face in a pail of water.
    From a lantern left for her

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