Page 13

M onroe set down the horse’s front hoof and patted the animal’s flank. Exhaustion was settling across his shoulders like a heavy yoke. He packed up the tools of his trade in the leather satchel he used traveling from estate to estate, and shops in the village.

Parks, his friend, a stable hand at the inn, paused to speak with him. “Just heard that the viscountess’s lady’s maid will be marrying Flaherty tomorrow.”

Monroe’s blood chilled in his veins. “What did you say?”

“Mary Kate Donovan is going to marry Flaherty tomorrow. A new maid will be taking on half of Mary Kate’s duties, as she’ll be splitting her time between Lippincott Manor and Chattsworth Manor.”

“Over my dead body!”

Parks grinned. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“I cannot kill the guard outright, but I could tear his heart out emotionally.”

“How? If she’s marrying him tomorrow?” Park demanded.

“By helping her see the error in her judgment tonight.”

“You plan to kidnap her.” It was not a question.

“Aye, if she will not come with me willingly. But I know she has feelings for me. She cannot have been gracing me with her warm and suggestive smiles for the last few months because she likes watching me shoe the viscount’s horses.”

“I know a number of the serving maids working at the inn like to pass the time watching you. Overheard a few of them commenting on your intense concentration and the obvious strength of your arms.”

Monroe’s eyes gleamed. “I have been gracious enough to give more than one of those winsome servants a tumble in the stables.”

Parks snorted with laughter. “Not a one of them has complained that I’ve heard.”

“And you would have, as you were standing guard to ensure that we were not disturbed. Have I thanked you for that lately, Parks?”

“You have not. I believe you owe me an ale or two.”

“Done. After tonight’s mission to secure Mary Kate’s affections, do not wander toward that Irish heathen.”

The men shook on it, and Parks returned to his duties in the stables, leaving Monroe to pack the rest of his tools and load them into his wagon.

He had one more stop to make before he could return to his small cottage on the outskirts of town.

Then he would empty his wagon and spread it with fresh hay, the quilt from his bed, a few strips of linen—that he reserved for bandages—and rope.

The linen to use as a gag, and the rope to bind Mary Kate’s hands and feet.

No use taking chances with her mercurial temper.

He planned to set the fire in her free, after he’d whisked her away from the viscount’s estate.

There was a heavily wooded area west of the village—he’d already set up a temporary shelter there in anticipation of the day that he convinced Mary Kate to run away with him. Time to make use of that lean-to.

Monroe was smiling as he placed his foot on the hub of the wagon wheel and hoisted himself onto the seat. He would bed the woman tonight, and finally get her out of his system!

Visions of the night ahead of him had the farrier whistling as he drove to his last stop for the day.

A short while later, he was packing his wagon and riding toward home.

He had just enough time to wash his face and hands—the rest could wait until later.

He was not finished exerting himself physically for the day.