Stranger in My Arms(53)

“Lady Hawksworth, Mr. Colby says he would prefer to stand watch outside. He has an umbrella and a greatcoat to keep the rain off, he says, and one never knows about the riffraff that travels the roads.”

“Very well,” Lara said ruefully, settling back against the seat. She suspected that it was her reputation and not her safety that the driver was concerned about. “You may tell Mr. Colby that I said he is a gentleman.”

“Yes, milady.”

Rain pounded on the disabled carriage, fat, aggressive drops that seemed to strike from every direction. Lightning shot across the sky, while rolls of thunder were punctuated by earsplitting cracks that made Lara jump. “What a misadventure,” she said aloud, hoping that George and Mr. Colby didn’t catch their deaths after being chilled and soaked through to the skin. She would hold herself to blame if either of them became ill.

The wait seemed interminable, but after a while there seemed to be some activity other than the storm outside. Lara stared out the window, but all she could make out were some blurry shapes moving through the grayness of the storm. She edged closer to the door and reached for the knob, intending to have a look outside. Just then the door was wrenched open, admitting a gust of wind and cold rain. Startled, Lara scrambled to the far side of the vehicle, while a huge, dark shape appeared in the open space.

The man, swathed in a black greatcoat, removed his hat. It was Hunter, a slight smile on his lips, his long lashes spiky and wet from the water that dripped down his face.

“I thought you were a highwayman!” Lara exclaimed.

“Nothing so romantic,” he assured her. “Merely your husband.”

A husband who was as dashing and unpredictable as any highwayman, she thought. “You didn’t have to come out in this downpour, my lord. The servants are well able to bring me home.”

“I had nothing better to do.” Although Hunter’s tone was offhand, he swept an assessing glance over her, and Lara realized that he had been concerned for her safety. The thought caused a little glow in her heart.

usily she reached for a mahogany compartment underneath the seat and pulled out a set of pattens.

It was the only way to keep the hems of her skirts from being ruined.

Hunter eyed the metal rings fitted on tiny stilts with frank skepticism. “You don’t need those,” he said as she endeavored to buckle the leather fastenings around her feet.

“Yes, I do. Otherwise my skirts will become muddy.”

That produced a hearty laugh. “I’m standing in ankle-deep mud at the moment, madam. You would sink up to your knees. Put those aside and come here.”

Lara complied reluctantly, tying her bonnet ribbons in a neat bow.

“You haven’t brought a carriage?” she asked.

“And risk having a second one stuck?” He reached for her and swept her into his arms, carrying her out into the storm. Lara gasped and ducked her head against his shoulder as stinging pellets of rain struck her face. She saw that Mr. Colby was seated on horseback, holding the reins of Hunter’s chestnut gelding as he waited for them.

Hunter lifted Lara into the empty saddle as if she weighed no more than a feather, and swung up behind her. The saddle was slick and smooth, with no pommel for Lara to hook her knee around. Instinctively she scrabbled for purchase, feeling herself slide across the horse’s back.

She was caught at once, a muscular arm locking around her.

“Relax,” Hunter said close to her ear, his voice caressing. “Do you think I’d let you fall?”

Lara couldn’t reply, blinking hard against the rain, shivering as it sank through her pelisse. With one hand Hunter unbuttoned his greatcoat and pulled her inside, enveloping her in a snug cocoon. It was warm against his body, and her shivers of discomfort changed to tremors of pleasure. Breathing deeply, she filled her nostrils with the smell of damp wool, and man, and Hunter’s familiar spicy scent.

She slid her arms around his hard midriff, feeling utterly safe, tucked inside his coat with the rain coming down around them. Evidently her bonnet annoyed him, for he jerked impatiently at the ribbon, pulled it off, and threw it aside as the horse began a bone-jarring trot.

Lara emerged from his coat in indignation. “That was my favorite-” she began, but a sheet of rain hit her face, and she ducked inside the greatcoat once more. The horse’s gait evened into a swift, smooth canter. She had only ridden like this once before, when she was a small child and her father had taken her on horseback to the village shop and bought her an ell of ribbon for her hair. Her father had seemed so large and powerful to her, so capable of solving all her problems. As she had gotten older, her father had somehow shrunk into human proportions, and she had seen with disappointment the way he had withdrawn from both his daughters after they were married. As if she and Rachel were no longer his responsibility.

Lord Hawksworth is your husband, Rachel’s voice echoed through her mind. You belong to him…

Hunter’s arm was hard around her as he held her through the cloak, his thighs moving smoothly to control the horse. A nervous pang went through Lara’s stomach as she thought of being at the mercy of this large, seemingly invulnerable man. He had promised to be gentle with her… but when a man was moved by his base desires, he had little control over his actions.

With those unhappy thoughts in mind, the proximity of Hunter’s body no longer seemed pleasant, and she shifted uncomfortably. Somewhere over her head she heard him ask something, but the storm and the thudding of the horse’s hooves made it impossible to hear.