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kissed.
    “Your food’s ruined, too,” she said.
    “Ours. A shame, that, for heaven knows what we’ll eat tonight.”
    Where the hell were they and what was this place? It shouldn’t be so dark this early, but the storm had brought its own night and rain still blurred the windows. All he could make out was a long, low building on Sister Immaculata’s side of the coach. He leaned across to lower the window.
    She flinched back. “Sir!”
    He probably had brushed against her breasts, but no more firmly than a butterfly’s wings. “I need to open the window to see better.”
    She shoved him away. “I’ll do it.”
    She struggled with the catch, but he judged it wiser not to assist. When she loosed it, the window rattled down too fast. Just possibly one of those Italian curses escaped her.
    He’d forgotten those promising curses.
    A nun or not a nun, that was the question.
    Then again, not all nuns were virtuous.
    A saint or a sinner? Could a person be both?
    “It’s a long, low building,” she said, “but it doesn’t look promising.”
    He leaned to see, careful not to touch her. “It’s here or nowhere, and it promises dryness, warmth, and a bed for the night.”
    “Beds,” she corrected, raising the window again with a fierce push.
    Robin settled back onto his side. “I meant nothing else, Sister.”
    She glared. “You kissed me.”
    “You kissed me back.”
    “It was the storm. I was frightened.”
    “I was born during one, they say, and they drive me mad.” He smiled at her bafflement. “Your headdress is awry. Would you like me to straighten it?”
    She blushed and gave it a sharp twist, but a dark tendril still showed, and her blush turned beauty into magic. Robin could hardly breathe. He hid his expression by considering the damage to the contents of the hamper.
    “You must never do such a thing again,” she said.
    “Put Coquette in a safe container?”
    “Kiss me!”
    “Or?”
    “I thought you feared God.”
    “Sister Immaculata, He already has so many counts against me that a mere kiss, even with a nun, will hardly weigh an ounce.”
    “Then why aren’t you raping me?”
    Robin simply stared. “I don’t rape,” he said coldly, “and I promised you safety. The one sin I have never committed is to break my given word.”
    She flinched back. “I’m sorry, but cease such folly. I will never succumb.”
    “The future is a mystery.”
    “No. It is ours to shape.”
    When she turned to look outside, Robin absorbed that statement with admiration and doubt. Mysterious as the future was, he predicted trouble for Sister Immaculata. She was alone and vulnerable in a dangerous world.
    He saw Powick arrive at the building. The people there would have to give them some sort of shelter. Which could present some problems.
    “Sister.”
    She turned back to him, prepared for another fight.
    “We may need a story.”
    “Why?”
    “Our hosts may wonder why a nun is traveling without female escort. Especially with a man such as I.”
    “You are every inch a rake,” she agreed.
    “Then why come with me?”
    “Lady Sodworth.” But her eyes slid away.
    “Then I hope you’ve learned your lesson. She’s doubtless enjoying a cozy supper before settling into a warm, dry bed, and we’re faced with, at best, straw and soup. Come to think of it, I could be in the same comfort. I’d have stayed safe at Abbeville if not for you.”
    Her eyes widened. “Are you suggesting this is all my fault?”
    Robin addressed the rapidly recovering dog. “She’s an unreasonable, argumentative woman, is she not?”
    “I am not!” she protested.
    “Facts are facts.” Before she could complain about that, the carriage jerked to a stop. “Open the window and tell me what you can see.”
    Muttering her opinion of him, she did so, letting in cold, wet air. “We’re by a lane leading to the back of the house. Your man is talking to someone at the front door. The ground’s covered with water.”
    Robin