Page 38 of Along Came a Rogue

Chapter Seven

A knock at the door cut through her sleep, and Emily woke with a start.

Her eyes darted around the strange room, lit brightly by the morning sun pouring in through the window. She blinked, taking a moment to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here, why she was naked…and what happened last night. Her chest warmed with happiness. For once, being in Grey’s arms hadn’t been only a dream.

With a smile, she turned over to reach for him—

The bed was empty.

Her smile faded with a sharp pang of disappointment. He was gone, having left while she’d been asleep. And judging from the cold mattress beneath her fingers, most likely before dawn.

The knock came again, and her heart skipped hopefully—foolishly—even as she knew it wasn’t Grey. It couldn’t be. After all, the man who’d laid bare all her secrets last night and ravished her so thoroughly wouldn’t have knocked.

Crawling out of the bed, she reached for the greatcoat he’d left tossed over the chair and scrambled into it to cover her still-naked body, her fingers buttoning it closed to her neck. Then she opened the door.

A young woman stood in the hallway, the same buxom maid from last night who had so blatantly offered herself to Grey.

“Yes?” Emily asked stiffly, unprepared for the jealous stab in her chest.

“G’mornin’, missus.” She smiled and lifted up a small tray. “The major ordered breakfast. Said ya prefer t’ take it in yer room this mornin’.”

“Of course,” she mumbled politely, stepping back to let the woman pass. Once again she was struck by the contradiction Grey embodied. The gentleman in him was thoughtful enough to make certain she had breakfast, yet the rake couldn’t bring himself to stay until morning.

The maid placed the tray on a little table beneath the window. “Cook made it special fer ye.”

Emily lowered her gaze, feeling guilty that the cook went out of her way, especially since she had no appetite. “I’m certain it will be delicious.” She forced a grateful smile. “Please thank her for me.”

The maid answered with a nod, then sashayed toward the door. Emily followed, thinking the woman was leaving, but then the maid stopped and reached into the hall to retrieve the bundle of fabric and bucket of hot water she’d left there.

“The major asked m’ t’ give ye this, too.” She set the bucket by the washbasin, then handed her the bundle of fabric.

Emily unfolded it and held it up. A blue-print gingham dress with long sleeves and a high waist that would serve well enough to keep her dressed for the rest of the ride to London. And just baggy enough to hide her belly.

Her throat tightened. Leave it to Grey to think of that, too.

“The major said ’e ’ad to see t’ th’ team an’ carriage,” the maid told her over her shoulder as she retreated toward the door, “but that ’e’ll see ye downstairs once yer dressed.”

Her heart sank with disappointment. So Grey wasn’t coming back. She stonily forced out a polite, “Thank you.”

The door shut behind the maid with a gentle click.

Closing her eyes tightly, Emily sank onto the edge of the bed and tried to clear the riot of emotions fogging her mind and painfully tightening her chest. If Grey thought less of her this morning because she’d given herself so freely last night, she didn’t know how she’d bear it. Or worse…what if he thought nothing of her at all?

His scent still clung to the sheets and covers, that masculine smell she loved of leather and soap now swirled together with the musky odor of sex. It clung to her body, too, like an invisible imprint branding her as his, and she resisted the urge to crawl back beneath the covers and wrap herself in it, to fall back into the dream of being in his arms.

But she couldn’t. He was waiting downstairs, and although she had no idea what she would say to him this morning or what kind of emotions—if any—she would see in him, she had no choice but to face him.

With a deep sigh of resolve, she pushed herself off the bed. She might not have a choice in how he felt about her, but she was determined not to let him see how confused she was about him. But what was there to be confused about? She scolded herself. Last night was only physical intimacy, after all. It wasn’t as if she had fallen in love with him, for goodness’ sake!

Yet an hour later, after she’d bathed, dressed, and fixed her appearance as best she could, her heart still beat anxiously as she made her way downstairs to the courtyard where Grey would be waiting. She dreaded seeing the disdainful or disinterested way he might look at her now, and heavens, how would she keep from crying when he did?

The morning was beautiful. The sun shined clear and bright with the kind of slight chill in the air that often followed a violent storm, and the day promised nothing but white clouds and warming breezes. Except for scattered mud puddles, there was no sign of the storm that had been unleashed on them yesterday. Yet she barely noticed any of it, her mind too distracted by last night’s events and what she would say to Grey when she first saw him.

The team was already hitched to the battered carriage when she entered the stable yard, and Grey and Hedley stood beside it, their brows furrowed in concentration as they assessed its condition. At the front of the team, Dalton finished checking the harness buckles to make certain everything was in place before they set out for another long day of travel, one that would bring them to within a half-day’s ride of London.

Hedley gave her a polite doff of his hat as she approached. “G’ mornin’, missus.”

Frowning at the carriage, Grey looked up distractedly at Hedley’s greeting and saw her. For a beat, he froze. Then a slow and knowing grin tugged at the corners of his sensuous mouth, and he politely bowed his head. “Lady Emily.”