Page 79

CHAPTER THREE

brODERICK HAD TAKEN THE caravan as far as he could, but the clouds were about to dump a deluge on him and Providence. He needed to take refuge. His friends could wait. He still had time. Nothing really started until tomorrow.

As soon as he could, he pulled off the main road and found a very infrequently traveled road that led to an even less frequented inn.

He dismounted and was immediately greeted by a stablehand. “I’ve got a horse in the back. Can you take care of him?”

“Aye,” the man shouted over the sound of thunder. “Better get inside.”

Broderick grabbed his coat and a few items and was turning to go inside when the stablehand approached. “You know, it’s none of my business, but what do you want to do about the lady?”

The lady? Broderick schooled his features to remain stoic. God, had Matilda snuck into his caravan in hopes of a night together? He didn’t have time for this. Why the devil would she do something like that? Hadn’t he let her down gently, albeit a bit decisively?

With two hands, he scrubbed half of his face before marching back to the trailer.

He flung open the door and started demanding, “Now what did I tell you back at the race, M–”

He stopped himself. That was not the figure of Matilda. That was the slim, seductive–ack, vexing—figure of the too-stubborn-over-the-top-doesn’t-know-what-she’s-doing-but-is-doing-it-anyway lady.

Gad! What the devil was he supposed to do with her?

The stablehand cleared his throat. “Like I say…none of my business, but this storm might get rough.”

“M—my wife likes to sleep next to her favorite horse sometimes.” There. That was actually not a full blown bounder.

The stablehand gave him a curious look, but was busy holding Providence and leading him to the stable.

“You handle the horse. I’ll handle the-the wife.”

“Better you than me,” muttered the man as he walked off.

“Couldn’t disagree more,” Broderick grumbled to himself. Then he reached over the partition and grabbed the woman, hauling her over his shoulder.

When she didn’t wake up, a small pang of concern flooded him. Odd, that.

He reached up and checked for her pulse, she seemed fine.

Thunder cracked. He would have to do a more thorough check of her body later.

Solely for the purpose of looking for injuries.

Nothing else. Definitely not the something that caused his cock to twitch at the feel of her breasts against his shoulder.

Forget all that. Just get inside.

Stomping over to the inn, he barged inside. “Need a room for the wife and me,” he bellowed.

Presumably the tavern owner came ambling over. “Of course, sir. This way.” After showing them a room, he added, “I’ll bring some food up for you and your wife shortly.” Then he left them alone.

Broderick gently placed his wife on the bed.

His wife. He shuddered. She was the impulsive type to just do whatever she wanted, acting with no concern for others. She probably never helped anyone with anything. Oh yes, she was definitely the third type. The type to stay away from.

And he could imagine the shouting matches they would have. No, thank you.

But she was still unconscious, so he checked the visible areas of her skin, not seeing anything until he noticed a small bump on her head. Well, there was his answer. Now he just needed to wait until she regained consciousness.

Not the thunder, not the hauling of her up the stairs, but the faint smell of beef broth was what woke her up.

A soft moan from her lips rendered him speechless. And when she lethargically stretched her arms over her head, he watched enraptured. And when she curled up her legs into her chest with a small smile on her face, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

And then she whispered one word that caused a thickening where there really shouldn’t be any thickening going on.

“Broderick,” she murmured coyly.

Gad! She was dreaming of him. All kinds of thoughts whirled through his head. None that made sense. He only knew he needed to wake her up fully.

If only he knew her name…

He sat on the bed, causing her to roll toward him. He poked her. Yes. That was a safe move. “Lady,” he said, poking her again. And then the thought of poking her caused a proliferation of singularly seductive thoughts to scorch his mind. No more poking.

“Lady,” he tried gently grabbing her shoulder.

But God, she was strong in her sleep. And swift. She rolled over, taking him with her.

Now Broderick was hovering over her, doing his best to act the gentleman, which, if he was being honest with himself, had been a while.

He was inches from her. Could smell her sweet lavender scent. It was calming. Enticing. Lickable.

What? No. He couldn’t lick a sleeping stranger. He might be a rake, but he wasn’t a cad. He only took women that wanted to be taken. And first and foremost that required them to be awake.

And then she murmured his name again, and the word shot right to his core. And the oddest feeling emerged. Longing.

Rolling over again, she made it so that this time he was flat on his back and her head was nestled into his chest.

God, that felt strangely nice. Comforting to be a comfort.

She nuzzled into him. And what could he do…he just held her.

And then she added the strangest comment he had ever heard from a sleeping woman, though to be clear, he hadn’t heard that many (or any) sleeping comments from a woman since he never stayed this long into the night with one. Dreamily, with her hands clasping his shirt, she said, “Good bull.”