Page 32 of Not a Fine Gentleman
As Connor led the nag—Ginger—and Meg down a narrow path amid hedgerows and sheep, clouds darkened the sky.
“Looks like rain,” Meg said.
Connor glanced up. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Those are rain clouds,” she insisted.
He shook his head. “They’ll blow away in an hour.”
“Do you always think you’re right?” Did amusement or annoyance colored her voice?
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “I usually am.”
“That sounds rather arrogant, you know.”
He glanced back at her narrowed eyes and pressed mouth. When had he developed a taste for ruffling the feathers of women several steps higher on the social ladder? Oh, right—because it was better than giving his heart to them. “I may seem arrogant to those who are unwilling to accept when they are wrong.” He grinned.
She made a scoffing noise. “Care to lay a wager on this?”
It was all he could do not to laugh. “With what? You don’t have a shilling on your person.”
She lifted her chin in a queenly pose. “As soon as my name is cleared, I will have access to my marriage settlement. My father saw to it that I had a jointure before I married.” She pulled her mouth to one side and shook her head. Softly, she said, “I should have listened to him.”
“About what?”
“Not marrying Hennessy.”
“Your father didn’t approve of the match?”
Her queenly pose never sagged, but something in her expression did. “He had misgivings regarding Hennessy’s character.” She huffed a disgusted laugh. “I was so infatuated with such a handsome, charming lord who said and did everything right, that I wouldn’t listen. A pity he was only infatuated with my dowry and connections.” She tossed her head. “I don’t care if it’s wicked; I’m glad he’s gone.”
Connor watched her. A few days ago, her comments would have suggested her guilt in his death. Today, he saw through her protective layers to the wounded woman beneath, a woman determined not to allow anyone to hurt her again. A survivor. A warrior.
Warriors were capable of murder.
The footpath widened and descended, meeting up with a road. They stopped after a few hours to rest the horse and to eat the bread and dried beef Connor had purchased from the inn.
Meg glanced pointedly up at the sky. “We need to find an inn soon, or we’ll get stuck in the rain.”
“It won’t rain.”
“You might not mind getting drenched, but I’d prefer not to. Besides, rain would turn the road into a bog, and Ginger is already tiring.” She rubbed a hand over the horse’s neck in long strokes.
Connor envied the animal. “Well, if it does rain, we’ll get wet. This isn’t the main highway, so I don’t know how frequently inns are spaced.”
She let out an impatient sound. “If you don’t know the way, then how…?”
He bristled. “I know the way. I normally use the highway, not this little side road, but I will get us there.”
“Perhaps we ought to ask someone for directions before we find ourselves well and truly lost.”
Aggravating female, questioning his leadership. “We don’t need directions. We’re not lost. We are avoiding the highway so we don’t meet up with that bounty seeker who is passing around your picture.”
She snapped her mouth shut. Truly, a satisfying moment. The next time he wanted to silence her, all he needed to do was remind her she was being hunted.
As long as they continued on a southeasterly direction, they should reach the main highway, and therefore a posting inn, before nightfall—unless Meg’s words proved prophetic. He glanced up at the sky again. Was it darker due to thickening clouds or the lateness of the hour?
A breeze stirred the trees, and dogs barked in the distance. Wind whistled through shrubbery and trees, and unwound Meg’s hair until it whipped about her.
