Page 14 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)
The arrival of their meal provided the perfect opportunity. Daisy busied herself washing her hands, pouring water into the bowl while Vaughan directed the servant to put the dinner plates and glasses on the table.
When it was his turn to wash, she pulled the tiny flask of laudanum from her jacket pocket and tipped a few drops into his glass.
The liquid was clear, but she quickly topped it up with wine from the bottle of burgundy the girl had left. She slid into her seat, her heart pounding guiltily, and slipped the little vial back into her pocket.
Vaughan crossed the room and took his place opposite her, and the table was so small that his knee brushed against hers. She shifted her leg and tried to concentrate on the delicious scent of shepherd’s pie, instead of the prickly heat that tingled up her thigh.
“This looks delicious,” she said, taking a large sip of her own wine.
The intimacy of the scene struck her full-force.
There was barely enough space for the plates and glasses, and there were no servants hovering about to act as silent chaperones.
The sound of the taproom filtered up from below, a general hum of laughter and conversation, and the fire and single oil lamp provided a cozy, flattering glow.
Vaughan started on his food and she forced herself not to stare at his lips or the way the muscles in his jaw moved as he chewed. She took a bite herself, willing him to take a sip from his glass, but he seemed more intent on eating than drinking.
She’d already finished half of her own wine by the time he finally reached for his glass.
His long fingers toyed with the stem, rolling it back and forth so the liquid swirled in a deep red wave, and she held her breath.
She wasn’t sure exactly how much he’d have to drink; Ellie had said a few drops would be sufficient to make a big man sleep.
He raised the glass to his mouth. Daisy followed the movement, but when he paused with the rim just pressed against his lower lip, she lifted her eyes and found him watching her with a devilishly amused expression.
“Daisy, my treacherous little darling, why don’t you tell me exactly what’s in my wine?”
She inhaled sharply. “What?”
He gave the contents of the glass a cursory sniff. “Arsenic? Hemlock?” His lips curved as she shook her head in automatic denial. “Don’t bother to deny it. I saw you in the mirror.”
Her horrified gaze flicked to the long cheval mirror positioned in the corner of the room. The damn thing was perfectly angled so that he would have been able to see the table—and her—while he washed his hands.
And he’d obviously been watching.
Bloody Hell.
Heat scalded her cheeks but she managed a careless shrug. She’d been caught. No point in denying it. “A sleeping potion. Ellie makes it. It contains laudanum, amongst other things.”
His brows rose, but he looked more amused than annoyed. “Were you hoping to leave me here and go after the runaways on your own?”
“No. We’ve already agreed that would be a stupid idea.”
“Ah, so you were trying to render me insensible to have your wicked way with me.” There was laughter in his tone. “That’s rather unsporting. I do like to be conscious when women make scandalous advances.”
“I wasn’t going to make scandalous advances,” she said crossly. “I was trying to make sure you don’t bother me in the night.”
“Bother you? How do you think I might bother you?”
The teasing glimmer in his eyes showed just how much he was enjoying making her squirm. The beast.
“You might snore,” she said. “Or steal all the covers.”
“I might do those even if you drug me. And that’s not what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid I’ll be the one making scandalous advances.”
“I’m not,” she said with perfect honesty. “There must be half a dozen pretty, willing barmaids in the vicinity. You’ll have no problem propositioning one of them, if you’re inclined. You’ve no need to resort to someone like me.”
He tossed the doctored wine into the fire, where it hissed and spat on the hot logs, then slid her glass toward him, topped it up, and took a healthy swig.
His eyes met hers. “I won’t touch you, Hamilton.”
She started to exhale, just as he added, “Not until you ask nicely.”
His lazy grin was thoroughly obnoxious.
Daisy bit back a snort. She reclaimed her glass and downed the rest of the wine, but a knock on the door saved her from having to say more.
She kept her head down, hiding her face and attending to her dinner as two burly footmen carried in a copper hip bath and placed it in front of the fire.
More servants followed, filling it with several buckets of steaming water, and Vaughan accepted a bar of soap and linen washcloths from the blushing chambermaid with a murmur of thanks.
The little procession filed out, and Daisy eyed the tub with a wistful pang. She was cold from the rain and achy in every muscle from bouncing around in the carriage. The water looked ridiculously inviting. But she’d stab herself with one of her own knives before she’d strip in front of Vaughan.
“Being the gentleman I am, I’ll let you have the water first.”
She glared at him. “I told you. I’m not bathing with you here.”
“It’s sweet of you to consider my modesty, Hamilton, but I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve encountered more than one naked female in my time. Unless you’re a mermaid, I doubt you’ve got anything I haven’t seen before.”
She crossed her arms across her chest.
He gave a theatrical sigh. “Fine. I’ll go and have a beer in the taproom with Finch. You’ve got fifteen minutes, no longer. I refuse to bathe in cold water.”
Daisy held her breath as he turned and went out, scarcely able to believe that he’d conceded so easily. Was it a trick? She waited until his heavy tread disappeared down the stairs, then sprang into action.
With a glance at the clock on the mantel to gauge the time, she propped one of the dining chairs up against the door to slow him down in case he decided to come back early and surprise her. Then she stripped off her clothes.
The bath wasn’t huge, not like the glorious copper one Tess had installed at Wansford Hall, but it was big enough. She could submerge her shoulders if she bent her knees, and she gave a sigh of happiness as she folded into the water.
It was almost too hot—just how she liked it—and her skin turned pink as she hastily scrubbed herself with the washcloth and soap. She was too worried about Vaughan returning to wash her hair, but she managed to step out and dry herself with five minutes to go.
Out of habit, she slipped the knife from her boot and placed it under the left-hand pillow on the bed, then dressed in a clean shift, shirt, breeches, and stockings. If Vaughan thought she was going to share a room with him wearing only her shift, he was grossly mistaken.
She’d just removed the chair when he knocked at the door, and he seemed amused to find her fully dressed again.
Daisy backed up and sat on the end of the bed to give him more room, but it was only after he’d removed his boots, shrugged out of his jacket, and unwound his cravat that the true awkwardness of their situation dawned on her.
“I can’t go down to the public rooms to give you some privacy.”
He glanced up from untying the neck of his shirt. A deep V of tanned skin was already visible at his throat, and Daisy felt her cheeks heat.
“True enough. It’s risky to lurk about in the corridor too. There’s no end of people coming and going. You’ll just have to stay here while I bath.”
She tried to inject a mocking note into her voice. “Do you like having an audience?”
His lips quirked. “Not usually. I like having a partner, but since these are unusual circumstances, and a very small tub, I’ll forgo the pleasure. I’m sure you’ll spare my maidenly blushes and promise not to peek.”
He tugged the shirt from his breeches and pulled it over his head without any further warning.