Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Caldwell, Christi Page 0,29

the only thing he should be focused on was the upcoming meeting and what that meant for him and those monies.

And yet as he guided his chestnut stallion, Bandit, away from the Black Seal and out onto the road leading back to London, he wasn’t thinking about the lost funds or the people he might help. Or in this case, the people of the Rookeries, whom he could no longer help.

But then Temperance always had that effect on him—she’d always invaded his every thought and set up a permanent place there. She was the only person who had truly mattered to him. The only person he’d let matter, even as he’d known that with his thievery, he’d no place letting himself get close to anyone. Yes, he helped the masses . . . but he deliberately kept a distance between himself and those he helped because nothing good could come if—when—he failed those same souls.

The steady thump of an approaching mount cut through his reverie.

There was a frantic speed to that galloping horse; the pounding of its hooves drew closer . . . and louder.

Cursing, Dare drew on his reins, and quickly guided Bandit to the edge of the old Roman road . . .

Too late.

A horse barreled over the rise, and—

The blood whirred in Dare’s ears as Bandit whinnied loudly. The panicked horse danced wildly under him to escape peril.

Adjusting his hold on the reins, Dare gripped his legs tight to maintain his seat, and kept the mount grounded as the other rider yanked on the reins. That grey mount pawed and scratched at the air before settling back onto all fours.

Dare’s heart pounded in his chest as the immediate peril receded. “Bloody hell,” he thundered. “What do you . . . ?” His words died as the initial haze of danger lifted and he was presented with the reckless rider.

Her cheeks were flushed, and at some point, her hair had come loose from her braid, leaving her curls to hang in a magnificent tangle about her back, a glorious curtain of dark waves he ached to stroke his fingers through.

Only . . .

She didn’t ride.

Dare blinked wildly. “Temperance?”

She smiled sheepishly. “I fear I overestimated the timing you would make this morn,” she called down breathlessly.

Which meant . . . she’d come, seeking him out. Swinging a leg over the side of his stallion, Dare dismounted. Bandit immediately wandered off to graze in a nearby swath of overgrown grass.

And for the first time in the whole of his life, he, Dare Grey, glib with speech, ready with any necessary response, couldn’t get his tongue to form a single word. Not a single one that made sense.

Temperance shimmied down from her horse, but holding on to its reins, she led it over to Dare. “I expected you’d be gone,” she said, her words running together. “You always were an early riser, and as such, I went to the Black Seal.”

He cocked his head. “The Black Seal?” he echoed, still wholly dazed.

She’d long had that effect on him.

She nodded enthusiastically. “The inn?” she clarified.

Were they . . . really discussing the inn he’d just left? “I’m . . . familiar with it,” he said slowly, trying to pick his way around not only her presence here but also that she’d sought him out and that she rode and . . .

“A rather silly name, is it not?” she rambled on. “The Black Seal, that is. I mean, if it was Suffolk or Dorset or North Yorkshire or Cornwall”—he struggled to keep up with that cataloging—“I might understand ‘the Black Seal.’ But we are quite landlocked in the Cuckmere River Valley. Why, there isn’t even a nearby water.”

At last she went silent.

For a moment.

“That is, there isn’t a nearby ocean. There are lovely rivers. Just . . . not waters fit for seals,” Temperance finished weakly.

“I . . . trust this isn’t what you sought me out to discuss? The name of the village inn.”

“No.” That, however, was all she said. No.

She wetted her lips, and he followed the path her tongue took over that plump flesh. And a wave of desire coursed through him, as strong now as it had been the first time he’d spied Temperance, her cheeks flushed with fury as she’d taken on a ruthless street tough who’d been bullying a boy. She’d always been beautiful, but the sight of her as she was now from her wild ride put him in mind of warrior princesses of old,