In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 16

Soft and languid, at first. Slow strokes of his tongue. Gentle laps at her lips. He would work his mouth down her chin to her neck, nipping and sucking.

Claymore's gaze fell to the area in question - the rapidly beating pulse. He wondered if Charlie knew what was happening. How her body was coming alive for him. Had she been kissed? He wondered. And more so, would she wish for his lips to be feather light? Or would she desire a rougher touch? His hands burrowing into the silky tresses of her hair and clenching the mass in his fists.

Charlie sucked in a sharp breath, and Claymore's eyes snapped to hers. His body ignited at the lust dilating her dark eyes, turning them a luscious shade of blue. She teetered back from him, and Greyson's hand shot out, her booted feet forgetting the width of the stair. He wrapped his grip around her slim wrist as he pulled her forward.

Charlie collapsed against his chest. They stared at each other silently. Her puffs of breath landed on his chin. His fingers clenched on the curved hips decked in trousers. Greyson's eyes clamped shut. He almost groaned. Dreams of her in these breeches would haunt him for eternity.

Greyson's predicament bowled over him, and he had to wonder what the bloody hell he thought he was doing.

Was he honestly going to let her charade continue? Was he going to have her labor for him in his stables? Walking about in such attire?

But Greyson didn't know the circumstances, the stakes, that Charlie was facing. He could only guess she was hiding from something. Perhaps running from someone. Greyson thought back to the common room when Charlie had recognized him. She had bumbled about quite unsuccessfully trying to remain unseen. What other possible reason could there be?

His only other option was to let the lady travel on alone, but he discarded the ludicrous idea. Greyson could no more walk away from her - leave her unprotected to the elements and other dastardly villains - than he could dispense of his gentlemanly honor. Then he could ignore his instincts.

What if Charlie's disguise was a matter of life and death? For why else would a lady resort to traveling about, alone, unprotected, in the guise of a poor gentleman?

Mayhap it was simply a quest for adventure - a quality he knew Charlie possessed from the little amount of time he had been acquainted with her. But Greyson's instincts told him there was a deeper meaning at play. Her panic upon seeing him suggested just such a thing.

And now his curiosity was thoroughly peaked. The lady had challenged him again and again. Infuriated him. Made him lust for her. Greyson couldn't ignore the part of him that demanded he keep her.

That left him with discovering the cause of Charlie's charade slowly. Getting her to trust him.

He could take a blow to his pride if it meant one less lady of the ton harmed. Her, in particular.

Greyson opened his eyes, looking down into her pale, upturned face. He had a feeling he would do quite a bit more where Lady Charlotte was concerned.

Stepping back, Greyson released her. He turned on his heel to climb the rest of the stairs as he led her to the last room on the right. It was his room for the evening. And, as of a few minutes ago, hers as well.

"While I can understand your...ire with me," Charlie's hesitant words were met with Greyson's snort. Ire was too small of word for how the woman angered him. She continued, speaking over him. "I rather think it unnecessary to be sharing a bedchamber."

Greyson didn't turn around. The floral-wallpapered hallway shifted past him in pastels and pale yellows as his boots thudded on the plush carpeting. Greyson halted at the door, raising a brow as he turned to face Charlie. "Do you?"

"I agreed to your terms, my lord. I'm not so foolish as to take my chances traveling at night now."

That had his protective hackles rising once more. His hand clenched the doorknob, the skin of his hands whitening. "Now?" Greyson said, his voice low and modulated. "Are you saying that you had been travelling at night? Alone?"

Surely, she must be jesting.

Charlie's back went up proving him wrong. She stopped a few feet from him, her hands on her hips. Did the lass know that if her disguise hadn't been cast to shreds already that it would have been now? What lad would possibly make such a ladylike gesture? "Of course. I didn't have much choice -"

She broke off, her face closing off. Greyson's ears perked up. He was sure the lady had been about to reveal an important tidbit. When she spoke no further, Greyson wondered what possible plan she had for her disguise. "Don't you have family hereabouts? A friend, mayhap?"

"My..." Her eyes shifted away, a gesture that tipped Greyson off that an untruth was about to be uttered. "My...my family had a change in fortune. It was up to me as the...eldest to see to provisions. I was heading to a post with a relation in Northumberland."

Greyson studied Charlie's face. It appeared a good enough ruse for her purposes, no doubt. But what were those purposes? He thought, irritated. Did she really have a relation in Northumberland? What change in fortune had proceeded so dire an action?

It would appear that for tonight it would have to appease him. Greyson could see by the tightening of Charlie's lips, as well as the way her body slumped, that she was worn out, not up for giving any further information to him.

He had time to draw the information from her, he knew.

Greyson would make sure of it.

"Well," he began, opening the door, "I'm glad you see the folly of your ways. I can assure you, we won't be travelling further until the morrow. We should reach my estates by late evening, and you begin work the day after." Greyson stepped aside, allowing Charlie to pass by him. It wasn't until after she had entered the room that Greyson realized the oddness of his action. She was disguised as a lad. A lord would hardly hold open a door for his servant.

Although, one would hardly share a room with one either.

Semantics, and all that.

It wasn't, however, until he closed the door behind him, snicking the latch, that Greyson realized he had overlooked something entirely.

He would be sharing a bedchamber with an unmarried lady. Or as much as he had surmised, considering the lady had been remarkably tight-lipped with him about her identity. Charlie's reputation would be in tatters regardless if anyone were to discover her gender.

Which was made simply more confusing seeing as the lady in question was dressed as a gentleman. One who would be working as his stable hand for an undetermined amount of time.

One Greyson had an undeniable attraction for that defied his wildest imaginings.

He cursed beneath his breath.

By God, what had Charlie thought of him earlier when his eyes had been trained on her lips and his hands tightening on her person?

She had a knack, he grumbled. Greyson stalked past Charlie - her spine stiff and straight as she stood like silent a sentinel in the center of the room. The lady had a bloody knack for getting him into the most peculiar situations.

As he loosened his cravat, Greyson kept his gaze as far as possible from the four poster bed in the center of his room.

What else could possibly go wrong?