Ten Ways to Ruin (The Daring Drake Sisters #1) - Christie Kelley Page 0,80

her. “I have no intention of putting your life at risk, even if you have such low regard for anyone else’s safety.”

“That is not true.”

“You put Ainsley, the passengers of that carriage, and me, all in danger because of your reckless behavior.”

“I never asked for your assistance.” She glanced away from him. The last thing she wanted him to see was how badly his words affected her. Blinking away the tears that stung her eyes, she sighed. He was right...again. She had put others at risk. Even if no one had chased after her, the others on the road were in jeopardy because of her inexperience.

Someone might have been hurt because of her actions. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“We will talk more about this later.”

“Where are we going?”

“As soon as we get to the next town, we are stopping for a rest, and then I will return you to your mother.”

“We might as well finish the race, Simon. I don’t believe we are all that far from St. Albans, assuming that was the finish.”

He remained silent as he drove.

The stony silence was broken only by the clop of the horses and the occasional gust of wind. As looked up, Emma noticed the sky had turned an ominous shade of gray. But before she could mention it to him, she heard his muttered curse.

“What is wrong now?” she asked.

“We are about to get very wet.”

“Is there nowhere to stop?”

He flicked the reins to get the horses trotting. “Hold on,” he shouted. “If we have any luck at all, maybe we make St. Albans before it turns into a downpour.”

Emma held onto the seat as drops of water pelleted her face like shards of ice. The temperature had fallen, and she couldn’t help but shiver from the cold. Her lightweight pelisse was no match for the downpour. As the rain increased, he had to slow the carriage down. Time seemed to slow to a halt as they made their way through the now muddying road.

She watched Simon, who had to keep his eyes on the horses and road. Staring at his profile, he looked more like his brother than she had previously thought. Both men had strong jaws and a long straight nose. However, Simon’s blue eyes were more prominent and framed with those long black lashes. And she didn’t remember Harry having a dimple when he smiled. Perhaps he did, and she’d never noticed it before.

“Are you all right?” He turned his head slightly and then frowned. “You are soaked to the bone.”

She shrugged. “I am well.”

“St. Albans is just up ahead. We’ll find a room and get warm.”

A room. A room? As in one room for them both? The idea sent warm heat flooding her body. She suddenly didn’t care how her cold, wet clothing clung to her body. Closing her eyes, she imagined him taking off the offending pelisse, slowing stripping her soaked muslin off her shoulders until it fell to the floor by the warm fire. Not that she needed a fire with him standing behind her. Lost in her erotic dream, she didn’t hear him call her name until he gave her a shake.

“Emma! Are you well?”

She blinked as her cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“Woolgathering?” He laughed. “I should think you’d be pleased that we have arrived.”

“Yes, of course.” Emma looked up and noticed that they had stopped in front of The Fighting Cocks. At this point, she only cared about getting a room, a warm fire, and some food.

Simon jumped down and walked around the horses as a stable lad come up to him. After giving the lad instructions and a coin, he held out his hand to her. “Come along, let’s get this over with.”

Emma frowned as she walked beside him in the rain. So much for her erotic musings. Obviously, being stuck with her was nothing but a chore to him. He held the door open to her, but seeing her scowl, he placed his hand on her back and escorted her inside.

“Just let them have their ribbing. It’s what you deserve after your foolishness this morning.”

She had no idea what he was referring to until she heard the shout from the corner of the tavern.

“Well, she made it after all!” Stanton bellowed from his position near the bar. “Ainsley, you owe me a guinea. I told you she wasn’t about to let Kingsley turn around and take her home.”

“Oh, ye poor girl!” A heavy-set woman in her late forties approached them.