Fair Juno (Regencies 4)

‘Here, let me.’

She had to, for she could not have moved if the ceiling had fallen. His gentle touch, so simple but almost a caress, and the velvety quality cloaking his rumbling growl, drowned her senses in dizzying distraction. The effect he had on her was intensifying with time. How on earth was she to survive the evening?

As soon as he stepped away from her to drop the coat over a chair, Helen sank into the armchair by the fire. She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his intent gaze when he turned once more to face her.

Martin studied the vision before him, reading her unease with accomplished certainty. If circumstances had been different, she would have every reason to feel threatened. As things stood, she was safe. Or at least, he amended, safe enough. He knew she could sense his attraction and was hourly more entertained by her efforts to hide her consciousness of him. Entertained and intrigued. Clearly, fair Juno, if widow she was, was not one of those who dispensed her favours with gay abandon.

As he watched, a small frown creased Juno’s brow.

‘Why aren’t you travelling with a groom or tiger?’

Elegantly disposing his long limbs in the chair opposite hers, Martin smiled, perfectly ready to converse on such innocent topics. ‘My groom fell victim to a severe head cold. I left him at the Hermitage.’ Considering that fact, privately Martin owned to some relief that Joshua had not been perched behind, cramping his style.

‘Does the Hermitage have many farms attached?’

‘Six. They’re all leased to long-term tenants.’

Succeeding questions, which Martin was shrewd enough to know were far from artless, led them to a discussion of farming and the care of estates. He could appreciate Juno’s desire to avoid questions on town pursuits; such topics were likely to give him more clues to her identity. Yet her opinions on the organisation of farm labour and the problems faced by tenant farmers were equally revealing. Her knowledge of the subject could not have been acquired other than through first-hand experience. All of which added to his mental picture of fair Juno. She had spent a goodly portion of her life on a large and well-run estate.

A brisk knock on the door heralded the landlord. ‘Your dinner, m’lord.’ Carrying a heavily laden tray, he entered, closely followed by a buxom woman with tablecloth and cutlery. Together, they efficiently laid the table, then bowed and withdrew.

Rising, Martin held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’

Placing her hand in his, Helen ruthlessly stifled the thrill that shot through her at his touch, assuming her most regal manner as she allowed him to lead her to the table and seat her at one end. The slight smile which played about his lips suggested he was not deceived by her worldly air.

Thankfully, the food gave her a safe topic for discussion.

‘I have to admit to ignorance of the latest fads. Thirteen years is a long time away from the boards of the fashionable.’

Encouraged by this admission, Helen ignored the laughing understanding lighting his grey eyes and launched into a catalogue of the latest culinary delights.

When the landlord re-entered to draw the covers, Helen grasped the opportunity to retreat to the chair by the fire. She heard the door shut behind their host and wondered, a little frantically, how she was to manage for the next two hours.

‘Brandy?’

Turning to see Martin at the sideboard, decanter in hand, she shook her head. Did he but know it, he did not need any assistance to befuddle her wits.

Helping himself to a large dose, undoubtedly required if he was to sleep with Juno, alone, next door, Martin came to stand by the fire, one booted foot on the fender, his shoulders propped against the mantelpiece.

‘Your man is not going to be impressed with your boots.’

Martin followed her glance and grimaced. ‘I’ll have to entrust them to the boots here. Joshua will, in all probability, never forgive me.’

Helen smiled at his nonsense. Despite the tingling of her nerves, due entirely to her company, she felt relaxed and at peace, not a state she had had much experience of over her life. Content, she thought, searching for the right word. Engaged in a most scandalous escapade and I feel content. How odd.

Catching Martin’s gaze as it rested lightly upon her, she smiled. He smiled back, a slow, pensive smile, and she felt the heat rise inside her. Her eyes locked with his, smoky grey and intent, and she felt her will start to slip from its moorings.

Sounds of an arrival disrupted their silent communion. Martin turned to stare at the door. The noise beyond rose until it resolved into the clamour of many voices. An invasion had found the Bells.

Helen frowned. ‘What could it be?’

Equally at sea, Martin shook his head. ‘Too late for a scheduled stop, I would have thought.’ Inwardly, he hoped that whatever company had sought shelter at the inn did not include any who might recognise either Juno or himself. If it ever became known, there was no possibility that their escapade would be viewed as innocent.

The noise outside subsided to a steady hum. Almost immediately, the landlord arrived to satisfy their curiosity.

‘Excuse me, m’lord, but it seems a night for accidents. The night coach for Plymouth’s lost a wheel just up the road. The smith says as it can’t be fixed ‘til the morrow, so’s we’re having to put up all the passengers here. If it be all the same to you and her ladyship,’ he said, ducking his head in Helen’s direction, ‘I’ve put you in the main chamber. It’s got a huge bed, m’lord—you won’t be disappointed. But there’s more people than we have beds as ‘tis, so I didn’t think as how you’d mind.’

The man looked hopefully at Martin. Martin looked back, wondering how Juno was taking the news. From his point of view, the disaster was a damned nuisance. But if he insisted on separate rooms, they would probably end up sharing with some less suitable bedfellows—the sort who travelled on the night coach. And, all in all, with the extra men in the house, he would much rather Juno was safe by his side, even if he got no sleep as a result. ‘Very well,’ he replied in his most languid voice. He heard the hiss of Juno’s indrawn breath and suppressed a smile. ‘In the circumstances, your best chamber will have to do.’