Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(57)

As Rhys said, his attacker certainly could have finished the job, so clearly the incident had been meant as a warning. Not just a warning to Rhys, but a warning to her. Only a few weeks remained of the two months’ grace Gideon had extended. The other night, she’d worried aloud to Rhys that Gideon might make good on his threat to kill him, if he didn’t leave the village soon.

Rhys had only laughed, much to her dismay. He refused to see Gideon as a threat. While Meredith had no doubt that Rhys would come out the victor in a fair fight between the men, this wasn’t an army skirmish or a boxing match. Gideon had time to bide, knowledge of the terrain, loyal men to assist him. The ambush at the ruins proved all too well that Rhys was not as indestructible as he claimed. As she knew from experience, she couldn’t bear to stand helplessly by while he courted death.

There was a knock at the door just as Meredith finished tying the traveling cloak in front. Before she could even call, “Come in,” her father entered.

“Father.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re up early.”

“’Course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t see you off?” He patted her arm. “And I wanted to talk to you, just a minute, before you go.”

She bit her lip, making a great effort not to openly cringe. She hoped he didn’t mean to discuss the implications—moral or otherwise—of her traveling alone with Rhys. They’d never spoken of Maddox, not in any marital context at least, and though Meredith supposed her father must know she’d taken a few lovers since her husband’s death, they’d mercifully never discussed that, either.

“I’ll carry your valise down, Mrs. Maddox.” With that, Cora left them alone.

“Let’s sit,” she said, guiding him to the bed.

He sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, using his arms to settle his weight. The worse of his crippled legs extended at an awkward angle. Since the fire, when his leg was crushed by the weight of a burning rafter, he’d never regained the ability to bend it properly at the knee. Her heart twisted in her chest. After so many years, she suspected he’d learned to ignore his injuries better than she had.

The old man’s face was very grave. “Meredith …”

“I’ll stay,” she said, clasping his hand. “If you don’t want me to go, only say the word, and I’ll—”

“No, no.” He gave a gravelly chuckle. “Go, child. Enjoy yourself. I wish I’d been able to do this for you, for your mother. You deserve a holiday far grander than this. What I wanted to say was just …” He squeezed her hand. “Rhys is a good man, Merry. He’s had a hard time of it, but his heart is in the right place. Give him a chance.”

“Oh, Father,” she whispered. A bittersweet smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better. It’s Rhys who doesn’t believe in chance.” She squeezed his hand and whispered, “May I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“If you happen to see Gideon while I’m gone, make this little speech to him.”

“Are you ready to leave?” Rhys appeared in the doorway, dressed for travel.

Father stood and greeted him warmly. Meanwhile, Meredith took advantage of the diversion to discreetly swipe at her eyes. If Rhys did leave Buckleigh-in-the-Moor, her father would be so disappointed.

Between Rhys, Gideon, her father, the inn, the village—Meredith felt her loyalties stretched in too many directions of late. At night, she lay wrung out and restless in her bed, racking her mind for a solution. A way to keep everyone happy and secure. No answer had come to her yet.

Farewells were exchanged in the first gloom of dawn. Rhys handed her into the carriage, settling her on the front-facing seat. He spoke a few words to the coachman, heaved his weight onto the opposite bench, gave the carriage roof a smart rap … and then they were under way. The hounds yipped after them, chasing them all the way out of the village. Poor beasts, they’d probably miss Rhys far more than they’d miss her. They’d grown quite attached to him in recent weeks.

Meredith’s stomach danced with every swaying motion of the coach, and excitement fizzed through her veins. She stretched her fingers inside her traveling gloves, and the seams chafed her work-roughened hands.

Here we go, she told herself, as the village’s last thatched roof rolled past. This is really happening. She was truly departing Buckleigh-in-the-Moor, and not for a half-day’s bartering in Tavistock, but for an indulgent stay in Bath. Best of all, she was going there with Rhys. She resolved to leave all her worries in the village, where they belonged, and simply enjoy these precious days. A giddy smile stretched her face, and she unglued her gaze from the small window in order to share it with him.

He was asleep. Arms folded, chin tucked to his chest. Boots propped possessively on her seat, but thoughtfully well clear of her skirts. The coach swung into a turn, and a low, soft snore rumbled from his chest.

She pressed her wrist to her mouth to keep from laughing.

Well, he was a soldier. She supposed he could nap anywhere. And since she knew his sleep to be all-too-often disturbed by unpleasant dreams, she didn’t want to rob him of his well-earned rest. Not presently, anyhow. If she had anything to say about it, he’d be getting little sleep in Bath.

But for her part, Meredith could scarcely bring herself to blink. As dawn warmed the countryside, she kept her face pressed to the window glass, the better to greedily consume every detail. She’d never passed by this route before, and she might pass a lifetime without traveling it again.