Page 8 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

A shley’s gaze swept over the interior of the stables, starting at the hayloft where their bed had been prepared, her eyes taking in the rough wooden beams, the flickering shadows cast by the lantern, and the shuffle of horses in their stalls. There truly seemed to be a first for everything. For all her daring and boldness, she had never imagined herself here—facing a night surrounded by hay, horses, and the man she intended to ruin. The thought was utterly absurd. Laughable even.

The very idea of spending the night under these circumstances, with him , made her stomach knot in ways she couldn’t explain.

She had expected the stench of manure, the damp rot of straw, but to her surprise, the air was rather…pleasant. Earthy, rich with the scent of hay, leather, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It most certainly wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was grounding. A far cry from the cloying perfumes and the stiff, polished airs of London’s drawing rooms. It felt real—like the world stripped of pretense and nonsense.

Like him.

Which was even more absurd!

Perhaps this was why the arrangement made her so uncomfortable.

Her gaze flicked to Linsey, who was speaking in low tones to his driver, helping the man settle the horses in their stalls. She watched him quietly, trying to make sense of the man before her. He moved with a kind of ease, a familiarity that spoke of someone at home in the countryside, at home among the dirt and the animals. It was so at odds with the image of him that she had constructed in her mind—the beast-like earl, who had ruined a man’s life over a simple wager.

But watching him now, as he took the reins from his driver’s hands and murmured something softly to his horse, she found herself questioning that image. Could a man who cared for his horses with such tenderness, who made jokes at her expense with such warmth, truly be the heartless rogue she believed him to be?

It doesn’t make sense, she thought, her brow furrowing. If he is so heartless, why does he seem so human?

But then, it was easier to love animals than it was to love people. This much, she had seen with her own eyes. Her mother’s annoying pug came to mind—an obnoxious creature with a bark far worse than its bite. The countess would forever choose that beady-eyed animal over anyone else.

She inwardly scoffed.

Linsey suddenly looked up and grinned when he caught her staring. Ashley’s ears heated, and she suddenly recalled their kiss. An infuriating, heart-pounding, earth-shifting moment that she had not planned for. The way his lips had lingered, teasing, tempting—she had been caught entirely off guard.

“What are you grinning at?” she muttered at the man.

His grin turned roguish, and an unrepentant glint entered his gaze. Hah! She ought not forget that there were many sides to a man. “I’m grinning at the woman who is staring at me.”

“I’m observing. There is a difference.”

That grin widened a notch. “A stare is a stare no matter how you look at it.”

She snorted. Incorrigible.

Before she could respond, the innkeeper’s wife bustled into the stable, carrying a tray with bread, cheese, and a jug of wine. “I thought you might need something to line your stomachs,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm through the night.”

Ashley blinked, momentarily startled by the woman’s kindness. “Thank you,” she said as Linsey hurried to accept the tray. She’d never been so grateful to see wine!

“This is most generous of you,” Linsey said. “We shall enjoy it.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. You’ll find the loft cozy enough once you settle in.” With a nod to the earl, she disappeared again. The driver followed, having offered to help with the repairs that would last through the night.

Linsey carefully brought the tray up to the loft. “Is this not heaven?”

Ashley scoffed. “Are you sure you live in a house and not a stable?”

He chuckled. “This is familiar to me. Comfort.”

“I can see that. You must have been born a horse in your last life. Why are you so delighted to sleep in the stables?”

He inhaled deeply. “Don’t you just love the smell of livestock and fresh straw?”

“It’s not my most favorite scent in the world.”

He chuckled. “This is the simple life.”

“You truly are a country bumpkin, aren’t you?”

He shot her a grin. “You sound rather disgruntled at the thought.”

Disgruntled? Her, a lady? Absolutely not. It had nothing to do with her whether he was a country bumpkin or not. What did concern her, however, was how she found him mucking about the stable rather attractive. In a pure, raw sort of way. He’d stripped to just his shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows—exposing his muscular arms and the hint of a vein popping up on the underside.

Urgh! It’s the stables, Ashley! There is nothing pure or attractive about it. Raw, yes. The rest, no.

She turned to the makeshift bed of hay and blankets in the loft. “Cozy, she says,” she murmured. “What a quaint way to describe sleeping in a barn.” But it wasn’t all that bad. It did look cozy. The bed might not sleep all that comfortable, though.

“Just where do you expect me to sleep?” It was best to focus on the immediate matter at hand rather than the man’s muscles.

“With me.”

That wine would be good right about now. Perhaps even cognac, not that she had any. Nor did she have any clever retort.

“What? You can kiss me but not sleep next to me?” He raised an eyebrow.

She had honestly tried not to think about it at all.

“Nothing some wine can’t fix,” he replied, setting down the tray and pouring her a cup. A cup! Not a glass at a nicely set table. Their first meal was going to be wine at the stables.

Well, at least this betrothal wasn’t going to mature into more than she’d planned.

“Agreed.” She accepted the wine, taking a sip and secretly savoring the warmth that spread through her.

“Good?” he murmured, pouring a cup for himself.

“Exceedingly so.”

“Very well, then. We have ourselves a feast.” He gestured toward the bread and cheese. “A night in a stable with fine cuisine. Who could ask for more?”

Ashley tried but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Only you would find excitement in muck and hay, Linsey. I suppose it beats the latest ball, where one is required to nibble delicately on pastries while dodging unwanted suitors.”

“Only because it comes with such delightful company,” he countered smoothly, raising his cup in a toast.

Ashley felt her heart flutter at his words, and she raised her cup in return, her gaze locking with his. “To scandal and stables,” she said, laughter dancing in her voice. “May we survive the night.”

She would survive, but she’d hoped for more triumph than that.

And it was only their first night together.

*

Thomas leaned against a wooden beam in the hayloft, staring at Lady Ashley with a smile before his gaze shifted over at the bed of hay in the corner.

Swallowing another sip of wine.

He could do with something stronger.

“Not so inviting after all?” Her teasing voice came.

“Not at all.” Quite the contrary. The thought of sinking into that prickly mound made his heart race with nerves. He glanced back at Lady Ashley, suddenly laughing at her suspicious look.

“So long as we are warm, nothing else matters,” he remarked, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, keen to lighten the air that seemed to thicken with unsaid thoughts. Now that he knew with how much boldness she kissed, that lumpy bed looked like a dangerous weapon. He gave another curse as his mind conjured all sorts of hot images of sharing a bed in the stables.

“What if there’s a mouse?” Her eyes trailed over the drafty planks that made up the stable walls. “I can tolerate many things, but I’m not sure about a mouse crawling over me.”

“Why would there only be one? The cats would starve.” She was too adorable not to tease a little.

He noticed the rise of goosebumps tracing her neck. “But do not despair. There is no animal that will get past me while I watch over you sleeping.” And he meant it. Her gaze lifted to him and there was a fleeting crack of her usual composure. An allure that made him feel more man than his title, estate, and any riches ever had. “I promise. No mouse will touch you.” He’d gladly slay not only a rodent but even dragons on her behalf.

Ashley laughed. “Oh, I can take care of myself, rodents or not. And while I am taking care, I shall take care of you, too.”

Thomas’s chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, but he’d leave her that. Her wit still sparkled with the sharpness of cut glass, and he found himself unwilling to look away, captivated once more. Or captivated still; he couldn’t tell. This was all too new for him. It was a curious thing, this magnetic pull she had over him—a mystery he hadn’t given much thought to solve but now found himself entangled in.

“This bedding shall do,” she finished with a nod, taking another sip of wine.

“Very well,” she said, settling onto the bedding with a resolute nod, picking up a piece of bread from the tray. “This bedding, this straw , shall not defeat me.”

Hmm…bedding.

Bloody hell, Thomas.

He eyed her as she nestled into the straw, her deceptively delicate air completely at ease. It was not the marriage of convenience he had envisioned—no, here beneath the wooden beams he sensed the stirrings of something far more powerful than convenience.

Perhaps all was not lost.

Thomas made a silent vow. She might be his fiancée by circumstance, but he was responsible for her and would ensure her wellbeing, and he was going to steal her heart right from under her bold toes.

He plopped down himself, tearing off a hunk of bread for himself. They ate in companionable silence, the quiet punctuated by the occasional snort of a horse or rustle of hay.

“You are welcome to invite your friends to visit,” Thomas suddenly said. “It must be hard leaving them behind.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Then I shall send them a note before we leave tomorrow.” She cocked her head. “Why did you suddenly think of them?”

He shrugged. “This might be a marriage of convenience, but I still want you to be happy.” And it seemed her friends made her happy. To win her heart, happiness was key, was it not?

She sent him a riveting smile. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. My home is your home after all. Speaking of which, I’m surprised your father agreed so readily that you travel with me.”

She waved a hand. “Ah, well, Papa has always wanted me to live a life I chose. He wanted me to have no fewer privileges than a son would have.”

“And yet, you’re obviously not one. A son, I mean.”

“No. But I received as many privileges as a daughter could. Tutors, books, and any luxury I ever desired.”

“He must love you very much.” Thomas tasted the words. It would probably be easy to love her, spoil her, and give her everything she wanted. Except that he didn’t quite know yet what exactly she wanted from him, really wanted…besides the obvious marriage to become his countess.

“Well, he said it was an investment in my future.” She tugged at her dress as if the conversation of her future almost unsettled her.

“Very forward thinking of him,” Thomas remarked. “I understand now why you dare to be so bold. What of your mother?”

She pulled a face and took another sip of wine. “That surprise I shall not spoil.”

“Now, I am terrified.”

A small laugh. “You should be,” she murmured. “What about you? What about your family?”

His family .

“Nothing too overly complicated or terrifying. I’m the heir and the spare. You know how these things go. My mother is touring the continent with her new husband. So, it’s just me.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“Well—”

“Well,” she interrupted. “You also have a stable family, don’t you?”

Thomas gave her a deadpan look, then laughed, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe she made such a joke! “I do have a stable horse family; you are not wrong.”

“You know,” she murmured, her lips pursing in thought. “I don’t believe we have one thing in common.”

They didn’t? “I don’t believe that is true.”

“Oh? And what do we have in common?”

“Mettle.”

“ Mettle ?” A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “I suppose that is true.”

“We also value our friends.” He thought of Sebastian. He might only have one true friend, but that was enough for him.

“And gumption.” Thomas’s leg brushed against hers.

Her body tensed slightly at the contact, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned to him, her eyes glinting. There was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes—a dare almost, wrapped in that silky, teasing tone she wielded so well. She was daring him now, in ways she perhaps didn’t even realize.

“These are not things that keep conversations flowing.”

True. But . He shifted closer, feeling the heat of her body against his side, her scent—something faintly floral—wrapping around him, teasing his senses. His pulse quickened. The hay bed beneath them felt increasingly irrelevant. “But then we also have…”

Her eyes twinkled. “What? What do we both have?”

He swallowed, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. The desire to close the small gap between them was becoming harder to ignore, but he didn’t move. Not yet. Instead, he leaned in just slightly, enough to feel her breath hitch in response.

“Determination,” he said quietly. “Neither of us backs down easily. And I’m certain we shall find things we very much have in common.”

Though the thought of discovering what those are may just undo me .