Princess Charming (Legendary Lovers 1)

Maura couldn’t stifle her own laugh at his similarity to Kate. It was just like a Wilde to consider a desperate escape as an adventure.

Even so, her own spirits suddenly felt lighter. Now that she could take a breath, the fear that had burdened her for the past fortnight had eased somewhat, in large part, she acknowledged with reluctance, because Beaufort was with her.

They rode on for several more hours. By then, Maura was growing weary and chilled from the damp air seeping into her bones. When another half hour had passed, she began looking for landmarks from the map Gandy had drawn for her. When she judged that they’d reached the correct turnoff, she guided Frip onto a country lane.

“Gandy has a friend who owns a small farm in this area,” she explained to Beaufort. “Unfortunately, his cottage recently burned down, so he temporarily moved his family and livestock to his brother’s farm nearby. But the barn is still standing.”

A few minutes after she turned onto another lane, they came upon the blackened ruins of a stone cottage. Across the yard was a small barn with a thatched roof.

“This should do until tomorrow evening when it grows dark enough for us to set out again. See, there is a fenced meadow with a stream for the horses to eat and drink. And Emperor’s disguise will protect him in this remote area. He will be safe enough there while we sleep in the barn.”

Beaufort nodded, but eyed the building without enthusiasm. “How delightful.”

Ignoring his ironic tone, Maura dismounted stiffly, aching after so many hours of riding astride, and headed to the barn.

She lit the lantern hanging just inside the door, which provided just enough light to see by as they led the horses inside. The interior was cluttered with tack and farm implements, so there was not much room to maneuver as they removed the saddles and unloaded the peddler’s baskets.

When they led the horses back out to the pastures, Emperor immediately galloped away. Just as quickly, he returned to Maura, snorting and prancing until she reassured him that she wasn’t abandoning him ever again. Whether or not he understood her words, he calmed enough to lower himself to the ground and roll, clearly delighting in his newfound freedom.

Swallowing the ache of relief in her throat, she returned to the barn with the marquis, who eyed the overhead loft with even less enthusiasm.

“Buck up, my lord,” Maura said brightly. “I have spent many a night in foaling barns waiting for mares to give birth, and I can assure you, straw makes a comfortable mattress. And we have a feast for

supper, if you can call dining on bread and cheese a feast. Why don’t you make yourself useful and draw some water from the well? That is, if you even know how to perform such a plebeian task.”

He chuckled at her gibe before going outside to do as she bid.

When he returned shortly with a bucket of water, they sat on two barrels and ate in relative silence. The quiet of the barn lulled her senses, and when they were finished, Maura suddenly realized that she was exhausted. She also became aware of another problem: The lack of privacy.

She had intended to remove her tight bindings, but now she decided against it. After a quick trip outside to the bushes, she discovered that Beaufort had taken the lantern up to the loft. Maura followed him up the steep wooden stairs and found him in the rear corner, using a pitchfork to make up a bed with fresh straw.

When he had spread out her cloak over the straw and staged a blanket to use as a cover, he gestured at his improvised pallet. “After you, my sweet.”

It was then that Maura realized he intended for them to share the bed.

She raised both her eyebrows at him. “Evidently I gave you the wrong impression. It is bad enough that I am traveling alone with you. I am not sleeping with you, too. I do have some notion of propriety.”

“You astonish me, vixen,” he said, beginning to untie his cravat. “You steal a prize racehorse, but balk at sharing a pile of straw, even though we are both fully clothed. Besides, it is damned chilly in here, so you will have to keep me warm. It is the very least you can do after putting me to so much trouble.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did not force you to come, remember?”

“No, but now that I am here, we can curl up together and share our body warmth.” Unwinding his cravat, he tucked it inside his hat. “If it will make you feel safer, you can think of me as your elder brother.”

Utterly impossible, Maura thought, shaking her head in exasperation. She did feel safe with Beaufort, up to a point; he wouldn’t let any harm come to her, she was certain. At the same time he was so very dangerous to her. He made her feel too much, assaulting her body with erotic sensations and filling her heart with inexplicable yearnings.

And yet, as she suspected, he wouldn’t allow her a choice. His tone turned a bit curt when he reprimanded her. “Quit being so missish, love. You have nothing to fear from me. I am too tired to attempt a seduction just now.”

Maura hesitated a long moment before reaching up to remove her floppy felt hat.

He waited until she lay down on the cloak before he snuffed the lantern flame. Then joining her, he spent another minute tugging off his boots. Finally, he drew the blanket up over them both and curled her into the curve of his body, her back to his front, his arm draped lightly over her waist.

Maura lay there rigidly in the darkness, wondering if she could trust him.

It was only a short while before his soft even breathing told her that Beaufort was asleep. She remained fully awake, however, watching as the faint light of dawn filtered through the shuttered loft window, much too aware of the hard, masculine body pressed against hers.

Ash awoke with his lust raging. From the sunlight streaming into the loft, he judged it to be midmorning.

He was painfully aware of Maura asleep in his arms, but he lay there savoring her warmth. This was certainly a first for him, spending a chaste night in bed with a beautiful woman, fully clothed. He could feel Maura’s lithe body beneath her many layers of peddler’s garb. Sometime during the past hour, she had sunk into a fitful doze, yet even in sleep, she had turned his loins hard and aching.