Never Kiss a Laird (4 page)

“I am in need of nothing of the
sort.”

“That’s what I love about you, Sally.
 
You are so self reliant.”
 
He advanced on her, and placed a hand on each
of her shoulders.
 
He bent his knees so
that his eyes were on a level with hers.
 
“But you needn’t be,” his voice caressed.
 
“I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”

Sally’s eyes blazed at his
familiarity and his infuriating inability to notice her lack of interest in
him.
 
“You mean you would be happy to
take care of my fortune.
 
And I have not
given you leave to use my first name, Mr. Atherly,” she reminded him coldly.

An injured look came into Simon’s
lovely blue eyes.
 
“But Sally, we have
been on a first name basis since we were children.
 
It’s far too late for me to change that habit
now.”
 
He met her scorching glare for a
full moment and then relented.
 
Dropping
his hands, he turned and threw himself onto the chair lately vacated by Sally,
and appeared to lounge at his ease.

“So tell me how you come to be
here, all alone and unprotected, at such an ungodly hour of the morning.”
 
He
steepled
his
fingers, placing the tips under his chin, crossed his ankles, and regarded her
as if fascinated.
 

“If you must know, Beau strained a
tendon or something last night on the way home from visiting with Patience.
 
Miles was to walk him back to the Manor and
send Tom in the gig to pick me up.
 
I
very much am afraid that Beau must have been more badly hurt than I thought,
because they did not come for me.
 
I am
sure that someone will be by directly to collect me, though, so there is no
need for any rescuing, and you can go about your business, sir.”

“For my part,” Simon ignored her
last suggestion, “I left the
Cartherson’s
rout party
early and went over to Giles’s for a few hands of piquet.
 
The only person I went to the rout most
especially to dance with was not there, you see.”
 
He turned a soulful blue gaze upon Sally.

“More likely, you left when you
realized that the
Cartherson’s
did not put out card
tables,” Sally replied cynically.

A wicked smile lit Simon’s blue
eyes.
 
“How well you know me, Sally.
 
You could always see through me, even when we
were children.
 
Why won’t you smile on my
suit,
m’dear
?”
 
He surveyed her closely, from her shining red-gold curls, her enchanting
face, down to the pale blue evening frock she wore over a slim but shapely
figure.
 
He rose to his feet, and crossed
the short distance between them quickly.
 
He put a hand under her chin, tipping her face up so their eyes met.
 
Her eyes sparkled angrily and she tried
unavailingly to turn her face away.

“Pretty Sally,
always so cold and aloof!”
 
He
dropped his hand and smiled.
 
“And such a temper.
 
But
fate has favored me, and I shall be your knight errant.”

He turned and presented an arm to
her, and Sally could smell the faint aroma of brandy on his breath. She was not
alarmed, but Simon Atherly was unpredictable when he had been drinking.

“I think not, sir.’
 
Sally informed him.
 
“Tom will be here with the gig at any
moment.”

“I would be honored if you would
allow me to take you home, Sally,” Simon bowed gracefully and held out one
hand, stepping in her direction.
 
“I’m in
my carriage, so you needn’t fear the elements.”

The snow seemed like the least of
her problems, Sally thought to herself, as she noted the implacable look in
Simon’s blue eyes.
 

“Tom will be here directly, Mr.
Atherly.
 
If you will excuse me, I think
I will just ask Barrow to bring me some coffee while I wait.”
 
She moved towards the door, but Simon stepped
adroitly between her and the exit.

“You’re out of luck there, Sally.
 
Barrow is obliging me by loading some brandy
into my carriage.
 
We have a little
arrangement, but I know you won’t betray me.”
 
He gave her a conspiratorial smile, and leaned forward to take her hand
and place it on his arm.

Sally considered her
situation.
 
Something must be seriously
amiss for her family not to have come looking for her.
 
Her options seemed to include further waiting
while she sent a groom with a message to Denham Park,
or allowing Simon to drive her home.
 
Not
really liking either option very well, Sally shrugged.

“Very well.
 
I thank you, Mr. Atherly.
 
I would appreciate it if you would convey me
home.”

“There’s a smart girl,’ he intoned
smugly.
 
“Barrow should be done loading
my brandy by now.”
 
He picked up his
great coat and flung it negligently over his shoulders.
 
Holding out her cloak to her, he enquired,
“En
avant
?”

Sally allowed him to place her
cloak around her shoulders, and, retrieving her gloves from a table, she
preceded him from the room and down the hallway to the front door.
 
Simon pushed the door open, and Sally stepped
out into the cold air.
 
Her breath
immediately formed little puffs around her mouth, and the chill seeped through
her cloak.

She was grateful to see Simon’s well-sprung
carriage waiting, the last of several small barrels being tied onto the back.
 
Two handsome chestnut horses stamped their
feet, clouds of mist around their aristocratic noses.
 
In her hurry to get out of the cold, Sally
did not see a patch of ice in her path, and as she stepped forward, her foot
went out from under her, and she waved her arms trying to catch her balance.

She would have fallen had Simon not
stepped nimbly forward and scooped her up into his arms.

“There,” he said triumphantly,
cradling her easily in his arms.
 
“Is that
not much better?”

“For heaven’s sake, Mr. Atherly,
put me down,” Sally fumed, struggling against his tight grasp.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Simon
teased.
 
“I quite like this
situation.
 
Besides, it is in keeping
with my role as rescuer to carry you to the carriage.”

“Put me down at once,” Sally said
between clenched teeth, her temper rising.
 
“Or you will regret it.”

 
“Very well, but only if you call me by my
first name,” he bargained.

Sally met his eyes, and was not in
the slightest bit swayed by his handsome face and mischievous blue eyes.
 
The smell of brandy was more apparent this
close to him, and Simon had a stubborn look in his eyes that did not bode
well.
 

“Simon,” she uttered coldly.
 

“There,” he laughed gently, his
breath tickling her ear.
 
“Was that so
hard?”

Sally heard the sounds of a vehicle
coming down the lane to the posting yard, and some of the tension left her
body.

“Do you hear that?” she exclaimed,
her eyes shooting shining in triumph.
 
“That will be Tom in the gig.
 
So
you can just set me down, Mr. Atherly.
 
Tom, as you might remember, is an extremely large and very loyal
servant.”

“Then I’d better take advantage of
my time while I have it.
 
I have
been wanting
to do this for a very long time now.” Simon’s
voice deepened and he lowered his head and captured Sally’s lips with his own.
 

Sally clenched her lips together
against his probing tongue and tried unavailingly to turn her head. Her eyes
narrowed and her hand formed into a small but serviceable fist.
 
Not for nothing was Sally the possessor of
two older brothers.
 
With her thumb on
the outside of her fist, as Harry had taught her, she pulled back her arm, and
swung, connecting sharply with Simon’s shapely chin.
 

“
Ow
!” the
surprised lord said, pulling his head away from Sally’s abruptly, eyeing her
with much less favor.
 
“Dammit, Sally,
why did you do that?
 
You made me bite my
tongue.”

“Why do you think?” she asked, her
fist still poised.
 
“Now set me down
before I do it again.”

“Gladly, miss,” Simon sulked.

Sally shook her head in disbelief
at his conceit.
 
He actually seemed
surprised that she had hit him.
 
She let
her fist fall, but before he could set her feet on the ground a voice intruded.

“Sarah Denham!”
 
A stout matron stood stock still in front of
her carriage, impeding the egress of her equally stout spouse, whose head
bobbed about behind her trying to get a better view.
 
Lady Greenly’s eyes were as wide as saucers,
and her many chins wobbled in shocked amazement.
 
She had been vociferously annoyed with her
spouse who had insisted on conveying her to the Saracen’s Head to meet up with
an old friend traveling through the county, but at this moment she was calling
blessings down upon his head.
 

Lady Greenly instantly committed to
memory the image of Sally Denham suspended in Simon Atherly’s manly arms.
 
It was obvious that they were emerging from
the Inn and heading for his carriage, and at a
very early morning hour. Had they been there overnight?
 
This was a more delicious scenario than Lady Greenly
had ever hoped to see in her wildest dreams.
 
She was already rehearsing the phrases she would use when she relayed
this image to every one of her acquaintance.
 
She would be shocked, and appalled, but not necessarily surprised that
Miss Denham would behave so irresponsibly.
 
The girl had such a temper, so impatient of
rules, and had always been very forward.

Simon Atherly gaped at the matron,
while Sally hissed at him to set her down.
 
When he finally did so, Sally quickly straightening her gown, and pulled
her cloak firmly about herself.
 
She was
unaware that her red-gold curls were tousled messily from sleeping in the
chair, one tendril falling down across her shoulder, and that her blaze of
anger had left a lovely flush on her cheeks that was open to misinterpretation.

“Lady Greenly,” she blurted in
consternation, very aware that it behooved her to tread warily.
 
To be found in such a compromising situation
and by the biggest gossip in the entire village was the sheerest misfortune imaginable.

“I am shocked, Miss Denham,” the
matron informed her in gleefully outraged tones.
 
She could barely keep the grin from her
face.
 
“What would your Papa say to see
you here in such a
way.
 
And Simon Atherly.
 
For shame!”

Simon, a travesty of his urbane
smile on his face, opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged.

A positive giggle escaped Lady Greenly.
 
Sally’s temper finally came to her
rescue.
 
“There is nothing untoward going
on, Lady Greenly,” she assured the happy matron in quelling tones.
 
“My horse was lamed, and I stopped here to
wait for my servant to come in the gig.
 
Something must have happened to delay them, and I passed the night
here.
 
Alone.
 
Mr. Atherly arrived but a few minutes before
you and offered to convey me home.
 
It’s
really very simple.”
 

Lady Greenly nodded with false sympathy.
 
“Just as you say, my dear,” she
tittered.
 
She exchanged a glance with
her husband, who had finally extricated himself from the carriage.
 
A look that plainly showed
her disbelief and glee.

For the third time that morning
Sally heard a conveyance pull into the posting house yard.
 
If it was not Tom this time, Sally was
determined to walk the whole way back to the Manor.
 

She pulled her cloak more closely
about herself, putting up one hand to brush her disheveled curls back.
 
The very tardy Tom pulled the gig into place
behind the
Greenly’s
carriage, and jumped down.

“Miss Sarah, I am ever so glad to
see you,” he exclaimed.
 
“There was ever
so much trouble up at the manor.”

“That’s fine, Tom,” Sally said,
with a quelling look.
 
“We’ll discuss it
at home.”
 
Her forced smile softened the
words, and Tom let down the step to hand her up into the gig.

Sally turned with one foot on the
step, casting an appealing glance at Lady Greenly.
 

“I am sure I can count on your
discretion in this matter, Lady Greenly,” she said hopefully.
 
“My presence here last evening was the result
of an accident to my carriage, as you can see by my groom’s presence.
 
Mr. Atherly arrived just before you yourself,
and offered to escort me home.”