Page 23 of One Night with a Prince

He pounced on her slip. “‘They’?”

“It,” she said hastily. “The contents.”

“You said ‘they.’”

The panic in her eyes was unmistakable. “You misheard me.”

“Ah.”Misheard you, my arse. She’d said it twice. So there was more than one piece of property. A whole set of jewels? Documents? Documents made more sense, in light of Prinny’s interest in the things. But what sort of documents?

“So where are we going?” she asked brightly.

He smothered a chuckle. He’d never heard a more blatant change of subject. Despite her testy demeanor and aggressive stance, she was at heart an honest person. Keeping this secret was probably killing her.

Which is why he’d have to make it easy for her to unburden herself when the time came. Surely if that idiot Haversham could get it out of her, Gavin could do so. He’d simply get her into his bed, where she belonged. No woman could keep silent for long when cocooned in the intimacy of the bedchamber.

“Byrne?” the fetching female prodded. “Where are we going?”

To bed, I hope.“Rotten Row, of course.” He flicked the ends of the reins at her. “Why? Do you want to drive?”

Her face lit up. “Oh, could I?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlHe’d been joking, but how could he resist when she looked as if he’d just offered her the keys to the city? “Do you know how to drive a cabriolet?”

“I’ve driven a phaeton. It can’t be any harder than that.”

“A phaeton? And you didn’t turn it over?”

“No, indeed!” She looked insulted. “I’ll have you know I’ve never turned a vehicle over in my life.”

Suppressing a grin, he handed her the reins. “Then try not to turn this one over, will you?”

Her eyes went wide, then she broke into a smile of such delight, he didn’t even mind risking his cattle. “I won’t, I swear,” she said in a rush.

She took control of the cabriolet as if born to it, expertly controlling his team of matched grays, settling them at once when they showed some rebellion.

“You enjoy driving, do you?” he asked.

“The only thing I love better than driving a rig like this is riding my gelding. In the country, I either ride or drive myself everywhere I can.”

“That explains why you do it so well. I’ve never seen a woman—and few men, for that matter—handle a rig so competently.”

Eyes twinkling, she glanced over at him. “Some of us womendo have abilities beyond the bedchamber, you know.”

He chuckled. “Then I shall have to hire you as my coachman. It would certainly liven my jaunts about town.”

She threw her head back and laughed. None of that ladylike tittering for Colonel Christabel, oh no. Hers was a hearty, deep-throated laugh that resonated deep inside him. And when her bonnet flew off to go tumbling down the road, she only laughed harder, her pretty cheeks flushing with the sheer joy of being in perfect control of her fate on such a pleasant day.

When was the last time he’d gained joy from that simple a thing? Not since he was a very young boy, almost certainly. Before his mother had exhausted all attempts to get Prinny to continue her annuity. Before they’d moved from lodging house to lodging house, each one meaner than the last. Before the fire that had tossed him into the cold world at twelve to fend for himself. Shaking off the dark memory, he laid his arm behind her back. “I noticed that your butler wears an eye patch. Why?”

“He went blind in one eye when a stray bullet shattered his cheekbone.”

“Not one of your bullets, I hope.”

“No, indeed! He was in the war. But after he was wounded he could no longer serve in the army, so weGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlhired him.”

“You and Haversham? Or just you?”

She shrugged. “He was in my husband’s regiment. I couldn’t very well let the man starve, could I?”