Page 28 of Road Trip With a Rogue
Finch remained up on the box, trying to calm the horses, but to her amazement Vaughan went round to the rear of the carriage and placed both hands on the back panel.
“Dukes aren’t supposed to push carriages,” she called out, just to needle him. “You’re expected to get back inside and wait for someone to come and help.”
“There’s hardly anyone else out in this weather. We could be waiting for hours. And besides, I was a soldier before I was a duke. I’ve pushed plenty of carts out of ditches. At least this one’s not full of ammunition. Or bodies. Ready?” he shouted up to Finch.
“Aye. Now push!”
Vaughan let out a grunt as he leaned his whole weight into the carriage. It moved forward a few inches, then slipped back into the muddy groove. He tried again. The seams of his coat strained, and mud sprayed everywhere as the wheels slid sideways, spinning uselessly.
With a sigh, Daisy trudged over to join him, enjoyinghis look of surprise when she added her own weight to the effort. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
They both shoved hard, rocking the carriage back and forth to gain momentum, and the wheels suddenly found purchase. The carriage bounced forward, out of the rut, and Daisy almost fell flat on her face. She threw up her hands to shield against the splatter from the wheels, but it was no good. Cold dollops of mud flecked across her face and hands as Finch sent the horses plunging on with a snap of the reins, and the carriage clattered up the hill, veering wildly.
She glanced over at Vaughan and bit back a laugh. The front of his greatcoat, from hem to collar, was covered in mud, and his face was equally dirty.
“You’ve got mud freckles.” She snorted. “I hope you’ve got a change of clothes in those trunks of yours,Your Grace,because nobody’s going to believe you’re a duke looking like that.”
He swiped his forearm over his face, but it only served to smear the muddy spots into long streaks. His previously pristine black boots were ruined, and she tried to ignore the way the rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead.
“Come on, let’s go.” He gestured up the hill, and with a resigned sigh she set off, slipping and sliding in the mud.
The track was even steeper than it looked, and when she almost turned her ankle for the second time, arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance, he gave a deep growl of impatience, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her along behind him.
Daisy was grateful for the assistance, even if the feel of his fingers made her stomach flutter. When they finally reached the crest of the hill and found the carriage waiting, she was glad to dive back inside, out of the deluge.
Her overcoat was drenched, so she slipped out of it and threw off her hat, then rubbed her hands over her arms to try to warm up.
“There are blankets under your seat,” Vaughan said as he climbed in after her, also divesting himself of his coat. “There’s no need to shiver like a drowned rat.”
Bending over to open the storage compartment put her breeches-clad rear in scandalous proximity to his face, but the embarrassment was worth it when she pulled out two soft woolen blankets.
She tossed one at him and wrapped the other firmly around her shoulders, acutely aware that the front of her wet shirt had become almost transparent where her coat had been open at the front.
Vaughan raked his fingers roughly through his hair, and she had to turn away from how attractive he looked in such ruffled disorder. The rain seemed to have enhanced his scent, too, and her stomach curled as the delicious smell of damp earth and wet pine trees filled the carriage.
A few raindrops still clung to his temple and jaw, and she bit back a ridiculous urge to lean forward and lick them from his skin with her tongue.
Dear God, was wrong with her? She’d barely thought about such carnal things since Tom, but Vaughan’s presence was making her body come alive again, all the half-forgotten feelings reemerging like a butterfly from a chrysalis.
“Thank God we’re almost at Doncaster,” he growled, using his blanket to wipe his face. His cheekbones were stained pink, either from exertion or the stinging rain, and she pressed her thighs together against an unwelcome throb of awareness. Why did he have to be so bloody attractive? It wasn’t fair.
“Will we stop there for the night?” Her voice barely more than a croak.
“Yes. I’m not dying of pneumonia just to thwart a stupid elopement. I want a hot bath, a good dinner, and a soft bed.”
She suppressed another shiver. Vaughan had seemed adamant that he wouldn’t let her sleep the night in the coach, and in truth the desire to be warm and dry was a strong inducement to comply. Perhaps if the Fates were kind, she’d be able to get her own room.
Chapter Thirteen
The Fates were vindictive little bitches, Daisy thought furiously as Vaughan reemerged from the White Horse at Doncaster. This was the fourth establishment they’d tried, and there wasn’t a bed to be had in the whole town.
According to a previous innkeeper, they’d arrived during the annual horse fair, which also coincided with a much-anticipated local boxing match, and every hostelry for miles around was packed to the rafters.
“No room at the inn?” Daisy had growled when Vaughan told her the news. “That’s a bit biblical, isn’t it?”
His lips curved. “Should I have asked if there was room in the stables? I’m sure you have fond memories of rolling around in the hay with your farm boy, but I for one refuse to sleep on a bed of straw.”
Daisy clenched her teeth at his needling, wishing she hadn’t told him quite so much about Tom. He’d probably tease her mercilessly forevermore.