The courtyard horn sounded and the stagecoach lurched into motion, pulling out of the inn yard and leaving behind the noises of the throng. The wheels dropped into the well-rutted road and it took only a few moments for the transport to gain its traveling pace. The coach fell into its familiar rocking rhythm. The only sounds remaining were the jingling of harnesses and the horses’ clipping hooves.
“It’s very strange.” Mrs. Briggs’ eyes narrowed, giving Randall a rather lengthy inspection. “I don’t recall seeing your husband yesterday.”
“My poor darling. He was hanging over the railing the entire time,” Larissa explained. “Water travel doesn’t agree with him.”
“A tragedy, Mr. Quinn,” Mrs. Briggs offered, in what she probably considered a sympathetic tone.
“Thank you,” he said and offered a practiced, friendly smile. He feared it was going be a long trip.
“Where is your maid, dear?” Mrs. Briggs had clasped her hands in front of her, while her face reflected a multitude of concerns.
“I am without one,” Larissa said, giving a demure lowering of her lashes. Her adorable mouth curved into an exquisite moue. “Mr. Quinn doesn’t see me a fit lady.”
Randall gasped. Why on earth did she have to say that?
Mrs. Briggs puffed up, her hands tightened into two small, hard fists. “An unfit lady? I’ll show you an unfit lady, me’lord!” Her knuckles were turning white. “Why, Mrs. Quinn is the most—”
Randall nearly choked on his breath. “You misunderstand my … my … my wife,” he stammered. “What she means to say is, at the moment we cannot afford such an extravagance. We have just returned from our voyage and all. We have not as of yet even settled into a home. We haven’t hired anyone.” He flashed a smile, one he hoped would dissuade her from the violence he imagined she might inflict were her anger unleashed.
Randall thought Mr. Briggs looked well cowed, a fate he would wish to avoid at all costs. “Believe me, there is no one in the world like my Larissa.” Which was the absolute truth. With an incline of his head, he brought their heads together so they just touched in what he thought was a show of affection.
“Ain’t that sweet?” Mrs. Briggs sighed. “Now, don’t you two make a lovely couple?”
Randall rolled his eyes toward Larissa, who gave a silly smile in return. One of adoration, he supposed. It was enough to silence Mrs. Briggs for the moment.
Mr. Briggs finally succumbed to the motion of the vehicle and dozed off. Randall watched Mrs. Briggs’ wandering eyes make a careful inspection, first over Larissa, then over him.
“You haven’t said a word to one another since we’ve left,” she said. Against Randall’s fervent hopes, Mrs. Briggs continued, “Have you had a spat? Lover’s quarrel already?”
“We’ve hit a bit of a rough spot, you might say,” Randall said in a confidential whisper to Mrs. Briggs and glanced back at Larissa, who to his amazement remained silent.
“That’ll never do.” Mrs. Briggs moved to the edge of her seat, closer to the couple. “If you don’t patch your quarrel now, you’re bound to end up like me and the mister.” Their attention momentarily shifted to Mr. Briggs, snoring away in the corner of the rocking coach. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.
Randall had to agree. One wouldn’t want to turn out like that. He certainly didn’t.
“Please, Mr. Quinn, say you’re sorry and give your bride a kiss.”
Randall looked from Mrs. Briggs to Larissa, who both stared back at him. He knew the type. Mrs. Briggs would never relent. He might as well submit.
Randall looked to Larissa again. She batted her long, thick lashes and gave a cherubic smile. Blast her, she was enjoying it all. He murmured a halfhearted “Sorry,” and brushed his lips against her cheek.
“Aggh, no! That’s a kiss you give your grandmother,” Mrs. Briggs scolded. “Look at her, man. She’s a beautiful girl! She’s your wife! Mr. Quinn, give her a husbandly kiss.”
He glanced over to Larissa again. She still wore that inviting smile. Randall saw her wink, goading him. He decided Larissa could use a sound kissing. Now he had his chance to shock some sensibility into her. At the same time, he’d certainly give Mrs. Briggs an eyeful and good cause to cease her meddling ways.
“You don’t want to spend another minute in anger. Go on, Mr. Quinn.”
All in full view of Mrs. Briggs, who sat front row center, Randall took action. He drew Larissa to him and gazed into her green eyes and uttered, “My darling, I’m terribly sorry for any discomfort I have caused you. You were right and I was wrong.” That would about cover the apology gamut.
Randall descended, covering Larissa’s soft lips with his own. The same sweet scent that lingered on Larissa’s cloak keeping him warm the night before rushed through his head.
With a shriek, Mrs. Briggs’ eyes bugged out in shock at the public display.
Randall ended the kiss and gave his solemn vow, “Dear heart, henceforth I shall do my utmost never to quarrel with you again.”
With a final cry, Mrs. Briggs rolled her eyes toward the heavens. A bout of the vapors overcame her and she fell into a heap against the cushions.
Satisfied with the reaction, Randall settled the limp Larissa back into her seat. She sat without saying a word, without the slightest movement and with her eyes wide as saucers.
Randall was quite pleased with the results. That would show the pair of them. He snugged his hat low on his forehead and spent the remainder of his trip in relative peace and quiet. Only the snores of Mrs. Briggs could be heard drowning out the wheezing of Mr. Briggs.
Sleep came easily for Randall after conversation in the coach ceased. But he soon woke to the pungent scent of roses and a weight leaning on his right arm. He forced his eyes open only to notice a slumbering Larissa snug and comfortable, holding his arm firmly with both hands. Her leg pressed tightly against his and her angelic face tilted upward.
A quick glance around told Randall the passengers all slept. “Miss Quinn,” he whispered. “Miss Quinn, wake up.” He took a second look to see if he had disturbed anyone. He moved his shoulder, trying to rouse her with no success. He did manage to stir her, only to have her wrap her hands more tightly about his arm and snuggle closer to him.
Chapter Three
Some hours later when Larissa awoke, she straightened from her semi-reclining position against the side of the coach and looked around. The nameless man in the corner still slept. Mr. and Mrs. Briggs across from her took turns punctuating the silence with their snores.
Larissa allowed herself to stare at the dozing Sir Randall. His head was tipped back and delicately balanced as he slept. Even after hours of travel, his dark, curly hair was still sculpted to perfection. His fingers were locked onto the brim of his hat, which rested on his lap, and his legs were crossed at the ankles, resting between Mr. and Mrs. Briggs.
Although she had not seen many men up close, she knew he certainly must be one of the most handsome. The memory of Sir Randall’s kiss was fresh in her mind. While she slept, she had replayed the moment over and over in her dreams, feeling the strong hold of his arms as he drew her down to his lap, the taut muscles of his thighs hard against her back and the spreading warmth in the places where their bodies touched.
So that was what it felt like to be kissed by a man. It was magnificent.
The thought alone sent the blood coursing through her. She had felt both frightened and exhilarated. Never had she felt so alive as at the moment his well-formed lips pressed against hers. She began to feel dizzy, whether from remembered sensation or lack of air she wasn’t sure. He had borne down on her, pressing her into his lap.
The stagecoach drew to a halt at the White Horse Inn and the passengers disembarked. Mrs. Briggs did not wait for Mr. Briggs, but made a quick escape from the confines of the coach. Not to stretch her legs, but to escape the company of the pervert Mr. Quinn.
A smug smile crossed Randall’s face. The more he thought about the incident, the less shocking
he thought it, and the more he enjoyed it. He knew Mrs. Briggs would never, ever speak to him again. That alone brought about the greatest satisfaction he could have imagined.
Randall followed Mr. Briggs and reached in for Larissa to help her down. “My dear.”
“Thank you, Sir Randall,” she murmured, taking his proffered hand. Her eyes did not meet his and he noticed the heightened color on her face. In his high humor, he had not considered her innocence.
In the dark interior of the coach Randall caught the movement of the remaining passenger and an unexplained flash. Was it a reflection of some type? Whoever the man was, he had slept the entire way and not made a sound. But who could have heard any conversation over the resonant snores of the Briggs?
Randall tucked Larissa’s hand in the crook of his arm, escorting her inside.
“Two rooms, please,” he said to the innkeeper. Randall scrawled in the register. He did not say whether this girl on his arm was his sister, wife, or paramour. Nor did the innkeeper ask. Randall had no intention of perpetuating the marriage lie they had so thoughtlessly originated.
“Betty!” the innkeeper shouted. “Take Mr. Trent and,” he squinted at the following line in the book, “the lady up to their rooms.”
Betty, a young servant clad in near rags, darted out from the next room. “This way, your lordship.” She dipped curtsy and led Randall and Larissa to their rooms on the second floor.
Betty swung open one door. “I ‘ope you’ll be likin’ this room, ma’am.”
Larissa stepped inside, nodded in approval and thanked her softly. Betty passed by Randall and opened another door.
“This is your room, your lordship.”
A quick inspection told him the bed was not large, but clean enough. He would welcome a good night’s sleep after spending the previous night at a table, resting against a wall.
“Will that be all, your lordship?”
“We will want to supper in our rooms.”
“Right away, your lordship.” Betty bobbed a curtsy and dashed down the hall.
Randall stood in the doorway feeling torn as to whether he should check to see if Larissa was properly settled, or respect her privacy. The decision was instantaneously made for him by the arrival of the innkeeper followed by a well-dressed man.
The innkeeper opened the door to the room on the other side of Randall’s. For the briefest of moments, the well-dressed man’s searching gaze met Randall’s. In the dim light, he saw the reflection of the gold-capped front tooth from the man’s wide grin.
Randall stepped into his room and closed the door. That man. Certainly it was the same man from the coach. He made Randall feel exceedingly uncomfortable. That gold tooth blinked like an all-seeing, all-knowing eye. He knew the man could not have known what took place in the coach. The man’s liquored state had seen to that, hadn’t it? The man could only have recognized him as someone who had disembarked from the coach.
Randall stretched out on the bed and draped his arm over his tired eyes. From now on, he would mind his own business and he hoped everyone else would do the same.
The latch made a soft click when Larissa closed the door. She laid her bandbox on the bed and removed her bonnet before opening her reticule and pulling out the letter from Aunt Ivy. Her eyes scanned the shaky scrawl. Her aunt must be quite old. The phrases that stood out were “you can help fill my days,” “it has been so long since I have had promise of such delightful company,” and “a companion to stead me through my declining years.”
It didn’t sound promising. Perhaps growing up in the confines of the seminary had prepared her for the rigorous days ahead. How sweet dear Aunt Ivy had been to offer her a place to live. Larissa was grateful. She would do what she could to make an old woman’s last years comfortable. Larissa had little medical experience to draw from. Small burns, cuts, and wounds she could manage, but caring for the infirm and aged, she thought, might be beyond her.
Larissa realized she might have to face those years without making any acquaintances of another man, but not without a memory. She had memories that would last Sir Randall and his—their kiss. She could dream of him night after night. Not that she had much choice, for he had made his imprint on her mind. He was the first thought she had when she awoke, and the last lingering image before she fell asleep. How could she ever forget him?
Randall’s room overlooked the inn’s courtyard. He watched Mr. and Mrs. Briggs step into another transport several hours later. Who knew when the other man would leave? That man was of no concern; he had been asleep and had heard nothing.
He could look forward to leaving Mrs. Briggs, the man with the gold tooth, and Miss Larissa Quinn behind. After tonight, he would never give the lot of them another thought. Tomorrow, life would return to normal.
He’d stay out of the public dining room. He’d asked for a supper of meat pies, vegetables, and two tankards of porter to be brought up for dinner. Randall removed a tankard and a pie for himself and would deliver the second plate next door to Larissa.
Thinking of that man with a golden tooth caused Randall to pause in his room with his hand motionless on the door latch. He shrugged the thought aside, opened the door, and stepped into the hall. A quick glance around the empty corridor made him feel more at ease. When he rapped on Larissa’s door, she was quick to answer and he was equally as quick to step inside.
Larissa’s room smelled fresh, but not from her refreshing presence, as Randall first thought. She had opened the window, allowing the air to circulate.
“I’ve brought you supper, Miss Quinn.” Randall set the tray on the table. “I think it best if we avoid the public dining room.”
“I’m sure you know best in these matters. Thank you.” She kept a respectable distance between them.
Randall had not realized how much of a schoolgirl she was, especially with her hair let down. How could she have changed from the teasing chit in the coach who taunted him into kissing her to this innocent?
“I’ll be leaving at dawn,” he added. “You’ll be safe if you stay in your room until it’s time to board your transport.” Why did he continue to feel responsible for her?
“I thank you for your concern,” she said in not much more than a whisper. She hugged her book tightly to her chest.
Was she frightened of him? Did she think he would do what he did on the coach? Or worse, perhaps? He wanted to reassure her that he had no such intention. Then, just as quickly, he changed his mind, thinking it was not necessary. It was best he leave.
Randall opened the door, then turned back to Larissa. Her green eyes stared up at him.
“In the future, I think it best if you ask who is on the other side of the door before allowing them in.” A smile washed over his face. One he hoped would relay warmth and kindness. Opening the door, Randall’s first glimpse outside the room was the flash of gold. He hurried to his room and closed the door behind him. He could not fathom why he found that man so disturbing.
A few hours later, Randall lay awake staring at the wall. He knew that just on the other side of that wall lay Larissa.
The sole niggling regret he had experienced upon the accomplishment of his minor indiscretion now blossomed into a tumult of doubt and self-recrimination. Guilt racked his brain, leaving him unable to sleep. Now he felt certain that the instant when their lips met, it had been the first time she had been kissed. He was leading an innocent astray.
That was likely why he couldn’t get her off his mind. He felt guilty. It was no wonder he tossed in bed. He would never see Larissa again and his conscience would not let him rest. He would have to make amends for his actions while he had the chance.
Randall ignored the lateness of the hour, drew on his trousers and slipped into his shirt. In bare feet, he tiptoed out his door to Larissa’s room.
He knocked softly while drawing one of his braces onto his shoulder.
“Who is it?” came her answer.
“It’s me, Randall, of course,” he repli
ed. A smile lit on his lips knowing she had taken his suggestion and was showing some caution.
The door slid open, revealing Larissa’s eye and a corner of her mouth. He shot quick glances down either side of the hallway looking for any sign of observers.
“Quick, let me in,” he urged. With that he pushed the door open and stepped inside. But not before someone rounded the far corner of the hallway. Before Randall could close the door, he saw the glimmer of gold as the man gave a lewd smile and winked at him.
In the absence of a wrapper, Larissa had thrown on her green traveling cloak to admit Sir Randall into her room. He swept in and latched the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour,” he said, more concerned with the man in the hallway than the woman in the room.
Larissa was glad, even excited, to see him. Especially in this state of undress. Bootless, no less. She actually preferred Sir Randall this way. He was less stuffy, less arrogant, less covered. He was all she dreamed of last night and all she wished for today. It pleased her to see how well she had remembered the planes of his face and the angle of his jaw, the arch of his dark brow and the gentle intensity in his eyes.
“There’s something I need to say.” He didn’t even look at her. Was she all that dreadful in her green traveling cloak? “What I did in the coach. When … I … kissed you.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Well, I only want to apologize. I’m frightfully sorry.” He sounded remorseful. “It was very heartless of me to do such a thing.”
It was the single most exciting thing in her dreary life. How could he say he was sorry?
“I wouldn’t blame you if you thought ill of me.” Her gaze followed his thumb as it ran under his brace from his shoulder along his well-formed chest to the waistband of his inexpressibles.
“I told you, Sir Randall. I am a very good judge of character. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Larissa admitted, “I, too, have regrets about my actions.”
“Ah, yes,” he sighed and finally met her eyes. “The ‘We’re married! Give us the last room’ incident.”
Miss Quinn's Quandary Page 2
