A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(23)

As Colin watched her go about her preparations, he reeled with the strangest emotion. Disappointment. A forceful pang of it.

That made no sense. Light had made its way into the cave. The space was no longer dark. He was going to leave this cramped, miserable hole in the earth in a just a few minutes’ time. And he was disappointed. Disappointed that he couldn’t stay here and kiss her a few hours longer.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

“Most likely.” She folded the blanket with efficient snaps. “And I may be joining you, after what we just did.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We were merely kissing.” Though he knew there was nothing “mere” about it.

“Well, it can’t happen again.”

Colin pressed a hand to his solar plexus. There it went. That sharp pang of disappointment. This cave was just full of surprises.

She stared at the footprint and her notes. Then she looked up at him, deftly winding her hair into a knot.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” she said, speaking around a mouthful of hairpins. “We must, if we’re to have any hope of reaching Edinburgh in time.”

He shook his head. “Pet, I thought I’d made myself understood. I—”

“I agree to your conditions. All of them. You can ride out. We won’t travel at night. And the part about the bed . . . ?” A faint wash of pink touched her cheeks. “That too. But we’ll need to leave tomorrow, if we’re going to make the symposium.”

He swallowed hard. The part about the bed . . . ? He really wished she hadn’t said that.

Colin had rules for himself where women were concerned. So far he’d always followed them, and his remaining self-respect dangled on that slim cord. But this was different. She was different, in ways he couldn’t yet define. He usually didn’t find innocence so alluring, but in her case it was sweetened by bold, unabashed curiosity. Given the opportunity, he wasn’t sure he could resist. And weeks of travel would present many, many opportunities.

Right this moment, he was entertaining a quite vivid fantasy of unwinding that knot in her hair, stripping that drab linen from her body, peeling away any layers of modesty beneath . . . and leaving those spectacles on. So she’d see him. So she’d know just who was making her twist and pant and moan with pleasure. So she’d watch each and every wince of pleasure on his face as he pushed into—

“Don’t come for me at the rooming house,” she said. “Too much chance of being intercepted. I’ll walk out and meet you by the road.”

Colin massaged his jaw, releasing a faint groan. He was a libertine with prodigious experience. She was a naïve bluestocking still tasting her first kiss. This was an exceedingly bad idea. No matter how much he wanted to leave Spindle Cove, no matter how much she claimed to want this journey . . .

It could not happen. Because now he wanted her.

“Colin?”

He shook himself. “Yes?”

She met his gaze. The vulnerability shining in her eyes plucked at his conscience.

“Please,” she said. “You will be there, won’t you? You won’t play me another cruel trick and leave me the laughingstock, standing all by myself while the coach passes by?” She swallowed hard. “Should I be worried about you?”

Yes, pet. That’s just it. You should be worried indeed.

Chapter Six

He wasn’t coming.

Minerva stared off in the direction of the castle. Then she checked her timepiece for the fourth time in as many seconds. Two . . . no, three minutes past six.

He wasn’t coming.

She should never have dreamed otherwise. She ought to have known he’d let her down.

The ground shivered beneath her. A rumble of hoofbeats reached her ears. Here it came, the coach. And it would pass her by. Leave her standing on the side of the road—an awkward fool of a girl, all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Hopeless.

She stared down the road, just waiting for the black shadow of the coach to crest the distant hill. So strange. The hoofbeats grew louder and louder, but no carriage appeared. By this point, she could actually feel the earth’s low rumble in her shinbones. Still no coach. She whirled, feeling confused and frantic.

And there he was. Lord Payne.

Colin.

Charging toward her on horseback, dashing through the early-morning mist. The wind rippling through his wavy hair. The sight was just like something from a fairy tale. Oh, he wasn’t riding a white stallion, but rather a serviceable, sturdy bay gelding. And he was dressed not in shining armor or regal attire, but in a simple, well-tailored blue topcoat and buckskin riding breeches.

No matter. He still took her breath away. As he slid from his horse, he was magnificent. Resplendent. Without a doubt, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

And then he spoke.

“This is a mistake.”

She blinked at him. “A mistake?”

“Yes. I should have said as much yesterday, but better late than never. This journey would be a mistake, of catastrophic proportions. It can’t happen.”

“But . . .” Looking around, she realized he had nothing with him. No valises. No bags of any kind. Her heart sank. “Yesterday, in the cave. Colin, you promised.”

“I said I’d be here at six. I didn’t promise I’d leave with you.”