Page 27 of Road Trip With a Rogue

Chapter Twelve

The rain eased a little as they arrived at Newark for lunch. Vaughan and Finch went into The Blue Bell, and Daisy grumbled to herself at the fact that she had to remain outside.

Then she remembered the basket of food Mrs. Ward had packed, and her mood improved considerably. She felt absolutely no guilt about eating the delicious array of pastries without saving a single one for Vaughan. He was probably warming himself by a nice crackling fire, while she was trying to ward off the creeping chill of the damp air.

His lips quirked as he climbed back into the carriage and saw the debris of wax paper, cake crumbs, fruit cores, and cheese rinds scattered across her seat.

“It’s a miracle you still have all your teeth, considering the number of cakes you eat,” he said drily.

“Life’s too short to deny yourself something delicious.” She shrugged, then blushed at the heat that kindled in his eyes as she realized the potential for double entendre. He didn’t disappoint.

“Do you know, I’m beginning to think you’re right,” he purred.

She gave an inelegant snort. He wasn’t flirting with her, however much she might wish he was. It was simply second nature for him to tease. He’d had no problem “denying himself” five years ago, and she doubted he’d be any different now.

She busied herself with packing the picnic away.

“It might interest you to know that our fugitives stopped here a short while ago to change horses,” he said.

She glanced up quickly. “Really? How long ago? Can you tell Finch to spring the horses?”

He shook his head at her sudden enthusiasm. “No. There’s more rain expected as we head north, and the roads are already bad. I won’t risk an animal getting injured, or a broken wheel.”

Daisy begrudgingly admitted that he was right. “I don’t suppose Violet will be going any faster. At least they won’t be increasing their lead.”

“Glad to hear you’re looking at this sensibly,” he said, with a tone of teasing condescension that made her want to punch him.

But that would mean putting her hands on him, and she definitely didn’t want to dothat.

Daisy opened the copy ofSense and Sensibilityand did her best to ignore him for the next few miles. She’d read the book before, of course—Ellie had given her a copy for her last birthday—and as ever she found herself wanting to give Marianne a good shake for being so foolish over Willoughby and for taking so long to appreciate Colonel Brandon.

The rain returned in earnest about an hour later, drumming deafeningly on the panels and tapping at the glass, and Daisy felt sorry for Finch, getting wet up on the box.

The roads became muddier, slowing their progress toalmost a crawl, and she bit her lip, wondering if Vaughan would decree that they stop at the next change.

She was about to ask, when Finch let out a shout, and the coach lurched dramatically, flinging her forward before she had time to grab the leather strap by the window. She threw out her arms to break her fall, and gave a strangled cry of horror as she tumbled onto the floor right between Vaughan’s parted thighs.

Her right hand landed just above his left knee, while her left clutched his other thigh, mere inches from his groin. Her cheeks flamed as his muscles shifted beneath her hand. She tried to rear back, but he’d reached out to catch her, too; his long fingers were gripping her upper arms, holding her in place.

Her breath hitched as she realized their faces were only inches apart, and that his lips were curving into a smile of unholy delight.

“Flinging yourself at me, Hamilton?” he chuckled. “How delightful.”

She pushed herself back and onto her own seat, curling her fingers into fists to banish the feel of rock-hard muscle and soft buckskin beneath her palms.

“Not in this lifetime, Vaughan.”

The coach was still tilted at an unnatural angle, and Finch was swearing like a sailor above them. With a sigh, Vaughan pulled on his greatcoat and stepped out into the road. A few moments later he opened the door again and held up his gloved hand to her.

“You’re going to have to get out. We’re in a deep rut, at the bottom of a particularly steep section of road. The horses need to pull the carriage out, then carry on up the hill without stopping. We need to make it as light as possible.”

Daisy groaned. She shrugged into her own greatcoat and stuffed her hair up under her hat, then took Vaughan’s hand and stepped down into the downpour. Her boots immediately sank into the cold, sludgy quagmire of mud and water, and rain poured down the back of her neck.

Oh, wonderful.

She squelched unhappily to the side, tugging the sides of her coat around her for warmth, and found a small patch of grass on which to stand.

They were in a deep, tree-lined lane, with steep banks of earth and tall hedges on either side, and an unusually steep incline before them. Small rivers of rainwater were flowing down the hill, filling the ruts made by previous carts and carriages and adding to the muddy nightmare.