Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)

“Yes, ma’am.”


“And don’t go wandering the countryside on your own. The moor can be dangerous if you don’t know your way. If there’s anywhere you need to go, the stable hand will take you.”

“Not at the moment, he won’t.” A deep voice interrupted them. “Darryl’s occupied putting up my mare.”

Meredith turned to spy Gideon standing in the doorway between kitchen and tavern. Leaving the rolls to Cora, she hurried to meet him. God, she hoped he hadn’t …

“No. No wagon today,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “I’ve come on horseback, just to suss matters out. Brought your newspapers, though.” He held them aloft. “There’s a fine bottle of port in my saddlebag, and …” His gaze drifted over her shoulder.

“And bloody hell, who is that?”

She looked over her shoulder at Cora. The girl was covered in flour to her wrists, industriously pulling the yeasty dough and shaping it into knots. The lumps of risen dough bore a marked resemblance to her pale br**sts, overflowing her bodice in two healthy scoops as she leaned over the table.

“That’s Cora,” she said, turning back to Gideon.

His unshaven throat worked. “She looks like a harlot.”

Meredith pulled him through the doorway, out from the girl’s hearing. “Well, she was. Until recently. Now she’s my new barmaid.”

He scowled. “You’re taking in whores? I thought this wasn’t that kind of inn. You’re always talking about making the Three Hounds a respectable establishment.”

“It is respectable. As I said, she’s not working that trade anymore.”

“Oh, I see. So this is your new charity project, rehabilitating fallen women?”

“No. She’s a friend of Lord Ashworth’s, and she needs a place to stay.”

His jaw clenched. “Ashworth’s still here?”

“Here in the inn? No. Here in the neighborhood? Yes.”

Gideon swore. “So he’s moving his personal whore into the inn. And what’s next? Don’t let him get cozy here, Meredith.”

“She’s not his whore.” She sighed. This wasn’t how she’d hoped to break the news of the construction partnership. “Sit at the bar,” she told him. “I’ll bring you something to eat, and we’ll talk.”

Back in the kitchen, she praised Cora’s progress as she poured a mug of tea and heaped a plate high with hot rolls and a cold leg of chicken from the night before. She set both mug and plate before Gideon on the bar. As was the case with most men, his mood usually improved after a meal.

“Now listen,” she said as he fell on the food, “I won’t hear anyone speaking that way of Cora. She had a bad lot of luck when she was younger, and circumstances forced her into a less-than-honorable occupation. Which makes her not so different from some smugglers I know. Anyhow, she won’t be taking any customers here.”

“Are you certain?” He washed down his third roll with a gulp of tea. Craning his neck, he curved his gaze around Meredith to gawk through the kitchen doorway. “Old habits and all that. With looks like hers, she won’t lack for offers. What if she just gets bored? What if she takes a fancy to some traveler who pays her a few compliments, and takes him to her bed?”

“Then she wouldn’t be much different from me, now would she?” Side-stepping to block his view, she said icily, “For a man with no aspirations to the clergy, you’re frightfully judgmental today.”

“I just don’t like it. She’s trouble.”

“Most of my favorite people are.”

When he failed to respond, she studied him close. He’d downed four rolls and the chicken now, and he still had that gleam of hunger in his eye. So here was the explanation for his ill humor. He wanted Cora. He desired the girl, and he was annoyed with himself for it.

To be truthful, Meredith was a mite annoyed with him, too. She was used to Gideon making eyes at her over his mug of tea. But Cora was younger, prettier, and decidedly more buxom. She supposed a man couldn’t look at her without his mouth watering, any more than he could stand dry-mouthed before a juicy, well-seasoned roast of beef.

Still, it hurt her pride a bit.

“The men will be brawling over her every night,” he said, a mulish set to his jaw. “If both Symmonds boys survive the week, I’ll be shocked.”

“They’ll be too worn out to brawl.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ll be working.”

He made a dismissive snort. “Not likely. While Ashworth’s still in the area, I can’t resume with the wagons. The men are on furlough.”

“They’ll be working for me. And for Lord Ashworth.”

“Meredith,” he growled. “Tell me you’re joking. And do it fast.”