Page 79 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

She was correct. The book was safely packed in Madalene’s satchel beside that glorious nightdress with the satin bow.

Georgie ticked off her fingers. “You will not be court-martialed; you are not going to jail; and I probably won’t kill the simpletons you left in my care.”

“Try not to cut off any critical body parts,” he said. “Unless they deserve it.”

She grinned and leaned close to whisper, “And do not fret about grandmother declaring thatsheis not good enough for you.” Georgie slid her gaze upward to Madalene, who patiently awaited from atop Stormy.

Hell and damnation. He hadn’t considered the countess’s opinion on his love life, and the woman was impossible. What would she do when she discovered he had rejected Arabella Beaumont? However, she had forgiven Alistair and adored Evangeline. Although Evangeline was carrying her first great-grandchild. But then again Madalene might also be… His heart thumped wildly. Fear? Excitement? Hope?

“Are you listening?” Georgie waved a hand in front of him. “I assure you, Madalene is too good for you.” His twin clutched her ribs as she chortled.

“Stop taunting your brother,” William called from atop his gelding. “We need to be on our way. I sent the missive last night. Moreover, I would like to reach the inn before dark, and I do not want to ride Lightning too hard.” He patted his horse lovingly.

“I will take good care of Saxton’s horses,” Georgie told Madalene. “Once these troubles are behind us, I will make sure they are returned. And I will try not to gut your giant and midget.”

“They will be on their best behavior.” Madalene winced, then smiled. “I will take good care of your husband and brother.”

Georgie gazed at William with affection before facing Stephen. “Do you have my pistol?”

He tapped his hip indicating the weapon was in its place.

“I do not need it back. I have two hat boxes full,” she said.

Of course, she did. Curiosity got the better of him. “Then where are your hats?”

“In the icehouse,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Of course, they were, for where else would Lady Georgiana Harrington, the Duchess of Astleyshire, keep her hats?

He gave her one last hug, then mounted his horse.

Considering their circumstances, the afternoon was quite pleasant. Madalene sat behind Stephen, intently studying Dupont’s book. William Harrington trotted along beside them, telling amusing stories. Either Georgie had rubbed off on him, or their Shakespearean talents were part of the couple’s mutual attraction.

Twice Stephen sensed they were being followed, but his sister’s words rang in his ear. “…stop fretting. You will send yourself to an early grave.” Despite Georgie’s eccentricities, she was wise. He needed to relax.

The sun took its time disappearing into the horizon, and the air slowly chilled. They pulled up to the inn just as the moon began her ascent. After stabling the horses, the three of them relaxed in the tavern, enjoying lamb stew with chunks of potatoes, fresh bread, ale, and pleasant conversation.

“…and the butler held his hands in the air.” William waved his palms and raised his voice a few octaves. “‘Please, Your Grace, can I take the apple off my head?’ ‘Nay, Miles,’ Georgie said. ‘You have the flattest skull of our household—besides my husband. But he no longer allows me to use him for target practice after an unfortunate incident with a tomato.’” William pounded his fist on the table as he roared with laughter. “Damn red juice and seeds ruined my new frockcoat.”

Madalene laughed so hard that tears dripped from her eyes. Every time she opened her mouth to say something, she giggled uncontrollably. At length, she composed herself.

“Good evening, Your Grace. Good evening, Captain. I shall head upstairs to my room now.” She cast a side-long glance filled with longing in Stephen’s direction.

She wanted to fuck after riding all day? The woman was delightfully insatiable, and he was happy to oblige.

William Harrington probably wouldn’t raise an eyebrow if an unmarried bloke hired a room full of whores. Still, Stephen should try to maintain proprietary and protect Madalene’s reputation.

“Good night, Madalene,” Stephen said. “I will see you in the morning.”

The duke smiled at her. “Good night, Madalene.”

Her hips swished in her signature feminine rhythm as she left the tavern.

Unfortunately—nay, fortunately—thoughts of Madalene kept Stephen from concentrating on William’s stories. Her naked figure, her round hips, her swaying shapely arse, her full bosom, her little mewls of pleasure, the way her hair fanned out around her on the pillow…

His growing bulge forced him to interrupt an anecdote about his sister’s pupeating an entire bowl of raisins and beef suet. “Please excuse me, William. I am quite tired. I shall head to my room,” he said.

“I’ll leave with you.” William chugged the rest of his ale and stood. “I’d like to be on the road at sunrise.”