Never Trust a Rebel. Sarah Mallory

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Never Trust a Rebel - Sarah Mallory

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Her heart leapt into her mouth and then settled high in her chest, where it beat a rapid and irregular tattoo that disrupted her breathing. It reminded her of the thrill of receiving admiring glances, or allowing a gentleman to kiss her fingers. Only ten times more exciting.

      And far more dangerous. Elyse realised that this was beyond anything she had experienced before. She was no fool, all her life she had been pampered and cossetted. She knew she had been protected from the harsher realities of life. Mr Scorton’s attempts to kiss her should have warned her that the power she had so far enjoyed over the gentlemen of her acquaintance might not always be under her control. It was also daunting to know that she was just as vulnerable; she could not rely upon her own body to behave itself, as proven by the fact that she had to make a conscious effort before her hand would release those long, lean, masculine fingers.

      Elyse sat down quickly, aware that Andrew Bastion was watching her but determined not to meet his eyes, lest he should see the consternation in her own. He jumped in after her, casting his hat upon the seat between them. Almost before the door had closed the chaise set off. Elyse had been so preoccupied she had not settled herself comfortably. Her skirts were tangled and without thinking she stood up to shake them out. At the same time the chaise lurched as it swung around the corner and out of the square. She lost her balance and collapsed back, directly into the lap of her companion.

      Drew reacted instinctively and caught her in his arms, laughing. She was very light, a deliciously scented, complicated bundle of serviceable twill and frothy lace, but beneath it was the tantalising outline of her body, hinting at luscious curves beneath those layers of cloth. For a moment she remained gazing up at him, her shock quickly replaced by a twinkling look as if she, too, realised the absurdity of the situation.

      ‘Well, this is an unexpected pleasure.’

      Why the deuce did you say that?

      The rakish response had been automatic and Drew cursed himself as the glow in her eyes fled, replaced by horror and alarm.

      ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon.’ Her voice was a little breathless as she struggled in his arms.

      Quelling the desire to hold her even tighter, Drew helped her on to the seat.

      ‘Pray do not make yourself uneasy,’ he said, leaning down to recover his hat, which had been knocked on to the carriage floor. ‘I am quite aware that you did not fall upon me intentionally.’

      He grinned at her and was pleased when she responded with a wary smile.

      ‘Thank you.’ She shifted her position to look out of the window. ‘I was taken unawares by the speed of the carriage. Shall we travel like this all the way to London?’

      ‘I have instructed the postilions to keep up a good pace, but it will be dictated by the state of the roads. The highways leading from Scarborough are in reasonable repair and as long as the weather remains dry we will make good time. I hope we need spend no more than three nights on the road. However, if it rains the track could turn into a quagmire and that could slow us down considerably. It might even take longer than a week to reach London.’

      ‘Oh, good heavens,’ she said, without turning around. ‘I do hope that is not the case.’

      ‘So too do I,’ muttered Drew, regarding the delectable view she was presenting. She had her back to him, but her close-fitting jacket hugged her body, tapering in at her waist before flaring out again over her hips and the soft buttocks that moments earlier had been resting in his lap.

      Drew settled himself into the corner of the carriage and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his blood was stirred at the sight of her. Even three days of this would tax his self-control to the limit.

      * * *

      They travelled long and fast, stopping only to change horses and swallow a mouthful of food and coffee before setting off again and at the end of the first day Elyse was so bone-weary she ate her dinner and retired, making no demur when her escort ordered a truckle bed to be made up in her room for a serving maid. The second day was better, she was anticipating the punishing pace and her youthful resilience made the journey much more enjoyable.

      She gazed at the unfamiliar landscape flying by, trying to take in as much as possible. Her companion spent most of his time lounging in the far corner, his hat pulled low over his eyes. If he was tired then she had no wish to disturb him for he was decidedly out of humour. She had tried to talk to him but while he had been coolly polite and answered the questions she put to him, he made no effort to prolong the conversation and she had the distinct impression he was not enjoying the journey, or her company.

      She thought ruefully that she could not blame him, for she had behaved very badly to him when he’d arrived in Scarborough. More like a spoiled schoolgirl than a young lady about to be married. And then the embarrassment of falling into his arms! It had been an unfortunate accident and she had been tempted to laugh it off until he had made the sarcastic remark that had filled her with shame and remorse. It did not matter that he had tried to recover the situation afterwards. The damage was done. One thing was certain; Mr Andrew Bastion was no gentleman.

      By the time they reached the Three Bells where they were to put up for the night Elyse was not only ready for her dinner but also longing for a little conversation—even if it was only with the vexatious Mr Bastion. Really, it was no wonder that she was out of temper with the man since he had been ignoring her most of the day. She listened to him issuing his orders to the landlord, who fawned and bowed in the most sycophantic manner, and recalled her aunt’s words, that Andrew Bastion was not a man to be crossed. Well, she did not wish to cross him. Elyse had by now recovered her natural sunny spirits and she hoped she might be able to charm him into a better mood.

      The private parlour set aside for them was comfortable enough and the warm weather made the sluggish fire irrelevant, so when Drew glanced around with obvious distaste she gave a little laugh, determined to be cheerful.

      ‘It is not palatial, but it will serve us for one night, sir.’ She waved to a tray on the side table. ‘May I pour you some wine?’

      She met his frowning look with a smile and proceeded to fill two glasses. She held one out to him.

      ‘We made a bad start, Mr Bastion, but I think we should put our differences behind us. After all, we have only each other’s company for the next few days. Will you drink a toast with me? To new beginnings.’

      ‘Trying to bamboozle me, Miss Salforde?’

      The look in his eyes dared her to try and she had to resist the temptation to look away.

      ‘Not at all, but surely the journey would pass much more quickly if we were not at odds with one another. Besides, it behoves me to be on good terms with my guardian.’

      * * *

      There was no guile in those velvet-brown eyes but Drew was cautious. He was too old and too experienced to be ensnared by a pretty face.

      The devil of it was that Elyse Salforde was not just a pretty face. She was intelligent, too. And spirited. A damned attractive package that brought out the rake in him. He had feigned sleep for most of the day to avoid making any more remarks like the one that had slipped out at the start of their journey. It had upset her, and shown him what a dangerous line he was treading. But it now appeared that his attempts to keep the attraction at bay had resulted in her thinking he was angry with her. She was offering to make peace and he could not bring himself to snub her.

      ‘I agree

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