The Gentleman's Quest by Deborah Simmons Read Free Book Online

And Miss Ingram’s nearly imperceptible nod of approval told him he had made the right decision—for now.
     
    Raven liked to claim he had trained her well, but nothing had prepared Hero for her current situation: riding behind Christopher Marchant, her arms wrapped around his torso. Given his startling effect upon her, it did not seem to be a wise position to be in. But she had refused to dangle sideways and insisted upon riding astride, her cloak tucked around her legs. And if Mr Marchant was shocked, he did not show it. In fact, the man seemed undisturbed by anything, from gun-wielding robbers to wild-eyed hermits.
    His capability was appealing, and Hero had to fight the urge to lay her head upon his strong back and lean upon him, in more ways than one. She could feel his warmth even through their cloaks, and for someone who was perpetually cold, it was like cozying up to an oven, only better.
    Yet she could just as easily be burned.
    Despite her scattered wits, Hero realized that Mr Marchant was not what he seemed. At first glance, he appeared to be a simple rural resident whose every thought was visible upon his face, but he had surprised her too many times for her to believe that. And Hero did not like surprises. They were too dangerous.
    Just who was this man? The shabby gentry did not own enough land to include an abandoned churchyard. Nor did they have the skills to snatch a women off her feet with one arm while riding on the back ofa horse. Nor did they hide beneath their simple clothes and relaxed demeanor a body that was hard with muscle.
    Her suspicions aroused, Hero wondered whether Mr Marchant was spiriting her away for his own purposes. But pressed so close to him, she could not muster any panic. For protection, she had her pistol, though she did not know whether she would be able to fire at him. And what else was she to do? Hero could only follow instincts honed through years of doing Raven’s bidding.
    Was that what he had planned? Surely, even Raven could not have anticipated her reaction to the attractive Mr Marchant. And yet, it was just the sort of thing he would find amusing, toying with her or testing her, safe in the knowledge that nothing could come of it.
    “I’m going to ride right up to the house,” Mr Marchant said. His low voice dragged Hero from her thoughts and sent shivers dancing up her spine. “So we can get you inside as quickly as possible.”
    “And then?”
    “I’ll have someone go for the carriage, but you should be safe at Oakfield. I’ll send word to your uncle and hire some extra men to make sure we get you home as soon as can be arranged.”
    He turned his head toward her, and the nearness of his face made Hero’s heart hammer. His skin was not pasty and pale like the antiquarians she usually met, but a deeper hue that bespoke time spent out of doors. His lashes were long and thick, his hair as dark as his eyes, and Hero wanted to reach up and push a stray lock from his forehead.
    Instead, she shook her head. “What we need to do is find what they’re after. The book.”
    Mr Marchant groaned. “Not that again! What of your coach, your footman, your chaperone ?”
    “I think we both know that we can’t go back there, and they provided little in the way of protection,” Hero said. “We’re better off by ourselves.”
    Mr Marchant slanted her a dark look of speculation. “We can’t travel, just the two of us, unrelated and unmarried.”
    “If you refuse to help me, I will have to go alone.”
    “You’re not going anywhere alone,” Mr Marchant said with sudden ferocity, and Hero had to suppress a shiver.
    “I assure you that I won’t accuse you of compromising me,” Hero offered.
    “I’m not worried about myself!”
    “Well, there is no need to worry about me,” Hero insisted. “I am a nobody with nothing to ruin.”
    “Except your good name and your future,” Mr Marchant said. “Your uncle would hardly approve.”
    “Raven couldn’t care less