The Rogue's Proposal by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online Page A

British Itinerary Luke had laid on the seat, Emma had determined they should stop at a place called
     the Cambridge Inn near the village of Slimbridge.
    “Good,” Luke had said. “We will continue on this route to Worcester. We should arrive
     there tomorrow night, and then we’ll stay there an extra day and night before continuing
     northward.”
    “Why?” she’d asked him, frowning. Now that they were on their way, the thought of
     any delay made her squirm. She wished she could simply close her eyes and transport
     them both to Edinburgh in an instant.
    “I’ve some business to attend to there. Trust me, I’m as eager to find Morton as you
     are, but this is something I must do.”
    And that was the only explanation he’d offered. Emma folded her hands in her lap and
     said nothing. She was wildly curious. But whatever he needed to do in Worcester was
     technically none of her concern.
    She settled back in her seat and watched him. In an instant, he went from being easygoing
     and relaxed to firm and commanding. His eyes would flash with bright humor and then
     simmer in darkness.
    He was a complicated man. He confused her. Unsettled her. He was nothing like she’d
     expected him to be. But now she realized her expectations hadn’t been fair. He was
     the Duke of Trent’s brother, and she’d pictured him as the embodiment of his brother’s
     stellar reputation. Probably even the Duke of Trent himself wasn’t the embodiment
     of his own reputation.
    Ultimately, she was glad Luke wasn’t anything like she’d expected. If he had been,
     he’d never have allowed her to come with him.
    And…this man was far more fascinating than she ever could have imagined.
    He glanced at her, his blue eyes catching a gleam from the fading sunlight. Something
     inside her clenched hard. He was so handsome—that was one thing about him she’d predicted.
     But her reaction to his beauty was far, far more intense than she’d expected.
    “You’re staring at me,” he observed mildly.
    “Sorry.” She jerked her head away and stared out over the horses’ heads. “Does it
     make you uncomfortable?”
    He laughed, that quicksilver joy shining through before it evaporated just as rapidly.
     “No, Emma.” His voice was husky. “Look all you like.”
    “Very well, I shall.” She was feeling mulish and twitchy inside her skin. And it was
     growing colder, the wind biting through not only her pelisse and dress and undergarments
     but the blanket on her lap as well. It would probably snow at some point on their
     journey—and then he’d see what little good that silly hood would do.
    She pulled the woolen blanket he’d bought tighter over her lap and shivered. She wished
     she’d brought a heavier coat—she hadn’t predicted she’d be journeying outdoors on
     an open seat.
    Maybe she should stop having expectations at all when it came to this man.
    Do you like to be bound, Mrs. Curtis?
    She shivered again.
    “Are you cold?” he said.
    “No,” she lied.
    “I see.” He slanted a glance down at her. “Pull up the blanket to cover your shoulders,”
     he ordered.
    She bristled at the rather high-handed command, but she did as she was told, wrapping
     the blanket over her chest and tucking it behind her shoulders.
    “Better?”
    “Yes,” she admitted.
    He turned the horses around a sharp bend in the road. Emma hung on for dear life;
     every time they turned, it felt like the curricle would flip them to their deaths.
    “Oh, it’s not that bad,” he said, clearly amused.
    She glared at him. “This carriage is meant to shoot about on London’s perfect roads,
     not to traverse the ruts and rocks of England’s country lanes.”
    “Ah. I see you’ve never been to London.”
    “I have been to London,” she retorted. “I had two Seasons there.”
    “Is that where you met your husband?”
    “It was. Not at any of the Season’s events, mind. I met him in London during my second
     Season.”
    “How long was