Protecting The Princess - Nadine Millard Page 0,15

scrambling out of the conveyance.

She didn’t bother waiting for any sort of assistance, since someone had already placed a step at the door.

Harriet stood fuming whilst the driver and coachmen removed the luggage from the top of the coach, throwing them, rather haphazardly to her mind, on the muddy road below.

She kept herself rigidly still, her mortification, exhaustion, and hunger all vying for first place in her turbulent thoughts.

How dare he? He was a cad. A blackguard. A scoundrel!

Harriet’s bags suddenly hit the ground at her feet with a thump, and she immediately moved to retrieve them.

Her muscles screamed in protest, sore from a bumpy night trussed up against that awful man, but she didn’t care. She’d rather die than let him offer any sort of assistance.

She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him gentlemanly or charming.

Harriet bent and hefted one of her bags. Straightening back up, she almost toppled over with the weight of it, but she managed to stay upright, even if she staggered a bit.

Huffing out a breath, she eyed the next bag, trying to figure out just how she’d manage it.

She looked hopefully at the men who’d worked on the coach, but they’d finished throwing luggage on the ground and were even now moving off toward the stables of the inn.

Harriet wondered fleetingly where Mr. Lauer had gone, but she absolutely refused to turn around to look for him.

“Right.” She took a deep breath, shifted her bag to one hand then leaned down to pick up the next.

The heavy bag she held swung forward, and she had to drop it lest she fall into the muck.

Harriet threw her eyes heavenward, praying for patience.

She was starting to sweat from her efforts and the bright morning sun beating down on her back.

“Come on, Harriet,” she mumbled to herself. “You can do this.”

With renewed determination, she flung back the material of her cloak, pushed up the sleeves of her simple muslin gown and bent forward to clap both bags.

With a very unladylike grunt, she heaved the bags up, managing to lift them both a few inches off the ground.

She thought longingly of the small gig she’d stolen from the palace grounds so she didn’t have to carry her bags before abandoning it near the public coach.

She felt as though her arms would fall off with the weight of the bags, but at least she was carrying them.

Taking a huge breath, Harriet turned—and smacked straight into a solid wall. A warm, rather nice smelling solid wall.

She gasped aloud, the bags dropping to her feet. She would have fallen backwards onto the dirt if a large pair of hands hadn’t shot out and grabbed her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded through gritted teeth, her annoyance at his earlier teasing, coupled with her annoyance that he’d made her drop her hard won luggage, making her more than a little grouchy.

“I wondered if I might be of assistance, Miss Royal?”

He was all politeness and charm. But she wasn’t fooled by it. The man was a veritable cad, teasing her and flirting with her and making her heart beat inexplicably fast.

“No, thank you,” she answered as primly as she could considering he still held her, his big, overgrown hands searing her even through the material of her gown.

The cloak was still flung over her shoulders in a ridiculous fashion. Her skin was burning, her eyes were stinging, and she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Harriet found herself wishing for a moment that Christopher had sent someone charging after her. If she were to be dragged back to the luxury of the palace, she could protest quite vocally about it and pretend she wasn’t secretly pleased.

But she was committed now and truth be told, Harriet didn’t think she could face another journey like the one she’d just taken so soon. Especially not alone.

“Remove your hands from me at once,” she bit out, aware that she couldn’t have sounded haughtier if she tried.

Mr. Lauer immediately removed his hands, holding them up in a manner that was probably intended to placate her but merely served to anger her further.

How dare he stand there with his hands up as though she were the one being unreasonable?

“Your companion doesn’t seem to have made an appearance, Miss Royal.” He dropped his hands and stepped forward, forcing her to stumble back, tripping over one of her loathsome bags.

“And?” she huffed.

In truth, Harriet had never been so unfriendly, nor so ill-tempered.

But there was just something about the handsome stranger that set her