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growls of pleasure.
    “Good day, Miss Lucas. I hope I find you well.”
    “Of course you don’t find me well.” Her brow was tight. “But I can only expect you are happy about that.”
    “On the contrary, madam. I am far from happy.”
    He did not look happy. Despite his measured tone he looked remarkably displeased and a little dangerous atop his ebony horse and wearing all black, with a shadow of whiskers upon his jaw and his cravat tied rather hastily it seemed. Diantha had never seen him out of perfect order, which could only mean that upon discovering her missing from the inn, he had hurried after her. Which, despite the resolve she’d made to herself the moment she saw him round the bend, made her belly feel tingly again. Even a little hot, the way his hand on her behind had made her feel in the stable.
    “You may help me now, if you wish.” She frowned. “And I will appreciate it. But if you attempt to force me to return to my friend’s house or to go home I will refuse.”
    “Miss Lucas, why are you standing here with your luggage?”
    “Because it suits me.”
    He tilted his head. “This sort of stasis is unlikely to bring you closer to Calais.”
    “You are very clever, Mr. Yale. I’d thought before that I liked that a great deal about you. But I am coming to revise my opinion.”
    “Thank you.” A glint shone in his gray eyes. “And I am coming to see to whom I might apply whenever I feel the need to not be complimented.”
    Her lips—agents of betrayal her entire life—twitched. For a moment his gaze seemed to focus upon them, and the tingles inside her turned to decidedly vibrant sparks. Her cheek had accidentally brushed his chin the night before. His whiskers had felt hard and rough. Her skin was still tender there from the scratch.
    “I could not leave the dog behind, you see,” she explained a bit unsteadily, though that was perfectly silly because of course a man’s jaw would feel rough if one touched it in the middle of the night so many hours after he had shaved. But she could not help wondering if she touched his jaw now would the whiskers be even rougher. She wanted to. “But several people inside the coach with me didn’t like its smell of the stable—”
    “It cannot be wondered at.”
    “—and it would not remain in my lap when I sat on the roof. I think it is afraid of heights. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous, a dog afraid of heights?”
    “Preposterous, really.”
    “You are quizzing me. But I could not strand it all alone on the road. So I was obliged to disembark prematurely. I am waiting here for the next coach.”
    “You will be waiting until Thursday.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Obviously I read the schedule at the posting inn too. I only said that to—”
    “To see my reaction.” A slight grin slipped across his mouth.
    Who knew a gentleman’s mouth could be so very . . . intriguing ? Or that looking at it could make her feel hungry, though it was only an hour since she had eaten the snack the innkeeper’s wife packed in the wee hours while trying to convince her not to leave without him. Diantha had never noticed any gentleman’s mouth before. Noticing Mr. Yale’s now also seemed silly.
    But for a moment the night before, his mouth had touched her ear, his breath hot upon her neck, and she hadn’t felt in the least bit silly. She had felt hot, and not just on her neck. All over. Merely recalling it now made her hot again.
    “I said it to stall for time,” she uttered. “I am still deciding what to do. I saw a farm a mile or so back. I am considering walking there and asking for help but I haven’t perfectly worked out my plan yet.”
    “Ah.” He looked very grave amidst the light rain that was quite like the color of his eyes. “Then let me not disturb your ponderings. Good day, ma’am.” He bowed from the saddle and with an elegant tip of his black hat, started off.
    She couldn’t help smiling. For a man so usually elegant he