Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)

“Well, I did leave the excess inside the seams, just in case,” Cora admitted, reaching to undo the row of tiny closures down the gown’s back.

As Cora helped her change from the red silk gown into her plain, serviceable traveling habit, Meredith drilled the girl on all the details of minding the inn. Where to find the extra stores of Madeira if wealthy guests happened through, how to start watering down the drinks a good hour before closing, and where to find Skinner’s mother if he had one of his bad nights.

“Don’t be so anxious, ma’am,” Cora said, packing away the silk gown. “With Mr. Lane and Darryl and Mrs. Ware all helping, we’ll be fine.”

Meredith wished she could tell her to call on Gideon Myles in an emergency, but she couldn’t trust him anymore. They’d scarcely spoken two words in the weeks since Rhys’s “accident” at the ruins. Much as Meredith hated to believe Gideon was responsible, it was the only explanation that fit.

As Rhys said, his attacker certainly could have finished the job, so clearly the incident had been meant as a warning. Not just a warning to Rhys, but a warning to her. Only a few weeks remained of the two months’ grace Gideon had extended. The other night, she’d worried aloud to Rhys that Gideon might make good on his threat to kill him, if he didn’t leave the village soon.

Rhys had only laughed, much to her dismay. He refused to see Gideon as a threat. While Meredith had no doubt that Rhys would come out the victor in a fair fight between the men, this wasn’t an army skirmish or a boxing match. Gideon had time to bide, knowledge of the terrain, loyal men to assist him. The ambush at the ruins proved all too well that Rhys was not as indestructible as he claimed. As she knew from experience, she couldn’t bear to stand helplessly by while he courted death.

There was a knock at the door just as Meredith finished tying the traveling cloak in front. Before she could even call, “Come in,” her father entered.

“Father.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re up early.”

“’Course I am. Did you think I wouldn’t see you off?” He patted her arm. “And I wanted to talk to you, just a minute, before you go.”

She bit her lip, making a great effort not to openly cringe. She hoped he didn’t mean to discuss the implications—moral or otherwise—of her traveling alone with Rhys. They’d never spoken of Maddox, not in any marital context at least, and though Meredith supposed her father must know she’d taken a few lovers since her husband’s death, they’d mercifully never discussed that, either.

“I’ll carry your valise down, Mrs. Maddox.” With that, Cora left them alone.

“Let’s sit,” she said, guiding him to the bed.

He sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, using his arms to settle his weight. The worse of his crippled legs extended at an awkward angle. Since the fire, when his leg was crushed by the weight of a burning rafter, he’d never regained the ability to bend it properly at the knee. Her heart twisted in her chest. After so many years, she suspected he’d learned to ignore his injuries better than she had.

The old man’s face was very grave. “Meredith …”

“I’ll stay,” she said, clasping his hand. “If you don’t want me to go, only say the word, and I’ll—”

“No, no.” He gave a gravelly chuckle. “Go, child. Enjoy yourself. I wish I’d been able to do this for you, for your mother. You deserve a holiday far grander than this. What I wanted to say was just …” He squeezed her hand. “Rhys is a good man, Merry. He’s had a hard time of it, but his heart is in the right place. Give him a chance.”

“Oh, Father,” she whispered. A bittersweet smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Believe me, I’d like nothing better. It’s Rhys who doesn’t believe in chance.” She squeezed his hand and whispered, “May I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

“If you happen to see Gideon while I’m gone, make this little speech to him.”

“Are you ready to leave?” Rhys appeared in the doorway, dressed for travel.

Father stood and greeted him warmly. Meanwhile, Meredith took advantage of the diversion to discreetly swipe at her eyes. If Rhys did leave Buckleigh-in-the-Moor, her father would be so disappointed.

Between Rhys, Gideon, her father, the inn, the village—Meredith felt her loyalties stretched in too many directions of late. At night, she lay wrung out and restless in her bed, racking her mind for a solution. A way to keep everyone happy and secure. No answer had come to her yet.