Read A Lady’s Secret for Free Online Page A

became aware of their position and pushed fiercely away.
    But then the coach rocked violently to the left, perhaps even sliding toward a ditch. Robin braced for complete disaster, preparing to shield her as best he could, but then it corrected and hurtled on. He hoped the postilion still had command of the horses, but if not there was nothing he could do now other than ride the wild motion and keep his charges from injury.
    Sister Immaculata had stopped trying to escape, but she was trying to close her legs without losing safety, wriggling in the process. When she accepted defeat she was still straddling him, but he was in danger of firing off. And oh, Jupiter, her scent—earthy, not perfumed, but intoxicating.
    One day he would have a perfume designed for her. Nothing heavy or cloying, but not sweet, either. Something fresh, even astringent, to be used lightly, very lightly. Perfumed water for her silken underclothes, perfumed lotion for her skin, perfumed oil for her bath. Which he would share with her…
    He needed her breasts in his hands, her nipple in his mouth. He needed to be pounding into her with each jolt of the coach, needed another kind of lightning storm.
    Maledizione, as she had so aptly said.
    “Is it over?” she whispered, as if the god of storms might hear.
    Robin realized the lightning and thunder had definitely moved on, though the rain still pounded and the carriage still rocked. One storm was diminishing, but the other still raged, and she looked so very ripe for love.
    Over? My sacred jewel, it has only just begun.
    Then the coach stopped.
    Her eyes widened. “What now?” But then she realized her position and pushed away from him just as he let her go. She flew back across the coach to thump into her corner. Her “No!” clashed with his “Are you all right?”
    They stared at each other, both breathing hard.
    Robin turned away, glad of the excuse to lower the window and find out their situation. Deep in the mire, he thought, and he was not thinking of the road.
    “Are we stuck?” he called.
    “Not yet, sir,” said Powick, “but soon. There’s something ahead. A light probably coming through shutters.”
    “Thank God. Tell the postilion to go forward carefully, and you ride ahead to ask for shelter.”
    As the coach moved forward, Robin peered down, ignoring the rain on his head.
    “How bad is it?” Sister Immaculata asked.
    He pulled his head in, raised the glass, and turned to her, pulling out a handkerchief to soak up some of the wet in his hair. She offered him her own—a square as plain and white as his, but smaller.
    He thanked her and used it. “There’s six inches of mud, and the rain’s showing no sign of ending soon. Pray, Sister, that this place will offer shelter.”
    She grasped her rosary. “Of course, but how long will we have to stay?”
    “Until the road firms up again. We’re in no hurry. At least,” he said, considering her, “I’m not.”
    Her pale face was now tight. Had her only problem been the screeching Sodworth? He suddenly wondered if she were a thief. He’d taken her word that the trunk belonged to her. It was a very nunlike piece of luggage, to be sure, but perhaps he’d been too trusting.
    A faint whine startled him. He’d forgotten Coquette. He opened the hamper and grimaced. “She’s stained your cloth in her fright. Is that sacrilege?”
    “No.”
    He extracted the still-frightened dog, leaving the soiled cloth behind. “What is it?”
    “A reminder of the cloth Saint Veronica used to wipe the face of Christ. The Sisters of Saint Veronica care for the poor and injured in the streets.”
    Comforting the dog, he turned that over in his mind. A strange detail to invent. And if true, an extraordinary calling—and one that made her journey to England even more puzzling.
    Robin suddenly wanted to smash something. She was a nun, after all, and even to him a true nun was untouchable, no matter how beautiful, how enticing her body, how hotly she