Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,78

under attack,” Rowden finally said. “That’s what Draven believes. It was a mistake and Murray’s fault because he probably stormed in here like the lunatic he is. Notice when I arrived, I was a bit more circumspect.”

“You’re still not safe. My mind could go back there. I could shoot you, and I’m unfortunately and unwillingly sober now. I wouldn’t miss.”

The paper rustled as though Rowden was either reading it again or setting it aside. “I would prefer you didn’t carry your pistol with you at all times, but so long as Clopdon is in possession of the powder and balls, I feel somewhat better.”

Nash didn’t feel better. Clopdon had found a new hiding place two days ago, and Nash hadn’t discovered it yet. He reached into his coat pocket and touched the pistol there. Pru was right that he didn’t seem to need the comfort of it as he had before. He still liked to have it close by, but he didn’t need it as much.

“You think you will shoot Miss Howard as she climbs into your bed one night? If you did, you’d be an even bigger rattlepate than I thought. And no one is that much of a nodcock, not even you.”

Nash sincerely wished he could find his powder and balls. If anyone deserved a hole in his head, it was Rowden.

“I suppose you think you’re being noble and protecting her.”

“And what would you have me do?” Nash asked. He still didn’t fully trust himself to keep Pru safe, but he hadn’t expected to miss her this much. Surely, he could see her one more time.

“Send for her—no, better yet. Go to her. It’s time you made some effort.”

“I made a clean break,” Nash said. “I should leave well enough alone.”

“If you don’t want to see her, fine. Be a nodcock. But the more I think about it, the more I think it would be wise for you to go into Milcroft. Show yourself. We want word to reach your father that you’re doing well. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”

“You want me to march into Milcroft and what—go shopping at the general store?”

Rowden stood. “Excellent idea, but you shouldn’t march. You’re the son of an earl. We’ll go in a carriage. Unfortunately, nothing will be open today and most people will be home. It’s Sunday. We should go tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to go into Milcroft.” The idea made him shiver with loathing. He didn’t want to be exposed to the villagers. Everyone would stare at him. There would be whispering and murmurs behind fluttering fans.

Pru would be there.

“I didn’t want to come here,” Rowden said. He opened the paper again, or at least Nash assumed that was what the rustling of the pages and the accompanying silence indicated.

Nash went to stand by the window. He couldn’t see the view as he once had, but he could feel the sun on his skin. Funny how Pru had made him take notice of little things like the feel of the sun on his face or the breeze in his hair. Funny how, hard as he tried, his thoughts always returned to her. Even now, if he allowed his mind to wander, it would return to that night of the storm and the feel of her trembling with need beneath him. The rake of her nails against his back and the deep-throated moan she gave when he slid into her.

Nash wanted to moan himself. He wanted her back and in his bed. And he also knew that sending her away had been the right decision. For both of them.

He heard a sound like a baby’s cry and went completely still. He knew that cry. Once all of Wentmore seemed to echo with it. Once Wentmore had echoed with laughter and voices. It hadn’t always been the silent tomb it was now. But the peacocks were gone and so was the joy.

Nash felt very much akin to the lone peacock calling outside, crying for his companions, his mate. Crying for a time that would never come again.

“HOW MUCH LONGER, GIRL?” Mrs. Northgate asked as Pru stood behind the privacy screen in her boudoir and waited for Sterns, the lady’s maid, to do up the last of the buttons on her new dress.

The dress she had sewn—well, mostly sewn. It was ready and Pru was both thrilled to finally be able to try it on and also a little sad that her daily visits with Mrs. Northgate would