Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)

“Out!” she shouted, jabbing a finger at the door. “Now!”


As they shuffled toward the exit, jostling and grumbling amongst themselves, an anxious-looking Darryl called over the din. “It’s only temporary, gents! Don’t count out the Three Hounds. We’ll have this place fixed up in no time, me and Mrs. Maddox, and we’ll be serving pints again before you know it.”

“Don’t make promises, Darryl,” Meredith said. “Go see to the horse barn. Surely there’s a stall that needs mucking out, if you’re in the mood to shovel excrement.”

“Now, Mrs. Maddox.” Darryl moved toward her, apparently choosing not to take offense. “I know the place looks bad, but we’ll have it back to form in no time. And it will all work out for the best in the end. It’s like you said. Men come and go, but this road is always here. And so’s the inn. We always have the Three Hounds. It’s our home.”

“Thank you, Darryl.” The youth’s words were well-meant, she supposed, but they didn’t offer her much consolation. This inn didn’t feel like home, not anymore. “Now, if you don’t mind … I really would like a moment to myself.”

“Of course, Mrs. Maddox. We’ll sort out the glassware this afternoon.”

Meredith stared after him, wondering if she needed to talk with Darryl about minding his place. The young man was growing a touch presumptive.

Once he’d left and she was alone, Meredith sat in one of the few remaining sturdy chairs. She looked around at the building she’d worked so hard to improve, taken so much pride in running with efficiency and style. She’d always said her heart was in this inn. And perhaps it had been, once. But it wasn’t anymore. Her heart was with Rhys, and he was gone. She stacked her arms on the table before her and bent her head.

Barely a minute had passed before strong hands landed on her shoulders, massaging gently. “There, there, Merry. It’ll be all right.”

“Oh, Father.” She wiped her eyes with her wrist as her father rounded the table and slid into the chair opposite. She hated to tell him this, but postponing the inevitable wouldn’t help. “He’s gone. Rhys left.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you must be disappointed.”

“Me? Don’t worry about me, child.” He wrapped her hands in his own scarred, arthritic grip. “Rhys will be back. You’ll see.”

“You truly believe that?”

“I’m not the only one. They’re already starting another betting pool in the courtyard. Skinner’s taking wagers as to when Lord Ashworth will return.”

“Band of fools,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Bloody ingrates. After the way this village treated him, why would he ever want to come back?”

“For you, Merry. Everyone knows he’ll come back for you.” His eyes warmed and crinkled at the edges. “And my money’s on tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-six

“Oh, God,” Cora said. “What’s happened?” Rhys braced himself as the carriage began to move. Slowly at first. Then it picked up speed, rattling unimpeded down the slope they’d just climbed. “We’ve come unhitched from the team. Must have been the jolt just now.”

“Lord,” she said. “We’re all going to die.”

“Eventually.” Rhys stood, as much as he was able, and braced his hands on the hardtop carriage roof. Leveraging his strength, he kicked at the carriage door, blasting the latch to pieces. “But not today.”

“What are you doing?” Cora asked.

Rhys offered her his hand and a one-word explanation. “Jump.”

Her mouth dropped open as she looked toward the now-open door and the accelerating landscape rolling past. “Are you mad?”

Rhys took a brief glance out the carriage’s rear window. Just as he’d feared, the coach was speeding straight for the coastline—and those dramatic cliffs.

“It’s jump now or plummet later,” he insisted. When she still didn’t move, he motioned to Bellamy. “Get her out of here!”

“Right.” Bellamy shook off his surprise and leapt into action, grabbing Cora by the wrist and tugging her toward the open door. He stood behind the girl, wrapping one arm about her midsection and bracing the other on the rooftop.

Rhys would have jumped with Cora himself, but he could barely fit through the door on his own, much less with a girl in his arms. He hoped Bellamy didn’t c**k it up. “Put your legs into it,” he said. “You have to clear the wheels.”

Bellamy nodded grimly. “On three, Cora. One … Two …”

Cora cringed. “Can’t we do it on five?”

The carriage jounced against some obstacle, and she screamed as the whole business teetered on two wheels.

The moment the coach crashed back to all four, Rhys made the decision. No more hesitating. Planting his boot on Bellamy’s backside, Rhys flexed his thigh and shoved with all his strength. “Three.”