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“I should have known he never intended to honor it.” Closing her eyes, Aubriella leaned her head back, the motion pushing her bonnet forward. This unforeseen delay gave her time to ponder her future and the Ladies of Opportunity.
And to think about Jack.
His handsome face had invaded her mind the second she’d lowered her eyelids.
When had her feelings transferred from irritation and annoyance to something much warmer? Much more dangerous to her heart? She’d never had to guard herself against affection before, and perhaps that was why the wily emotion had sneaked up on her.
What she felt for Jack Matherfield most assuredly was not aggravation or exasperation.
But that didn’t matter.
Not anymore.
Smelling the odoriferous man before he spoke and swallowing a gag, she opened her eyes. He stood a mere two feet in front of her and Roxina.
Lord, above.
When was the last time he’d bathed or donned clean clothing?
A sloppy, drunken grin splitting his unwashed face and bits of food embedded in his crusty beard, he asked, “Would you pretty lad-dees care to join me an’ me friend?” He veered his attention to his table, where his eager chum regarded them with unconcealed lust. “We couldn’t help but notice you ’aven’t eaten. We’d be happy t’ share our meal.”
Hell would freeze over first.
“No, thank you, but your kindness is appreciated.” Aubriella kept her tone coolly pleasant as she forced the insincere words past her lips. She fashioned a small smile. Who knew what might set this blighter off? “We’re waiting for someone. They’ve been delayed.” She waved her hand toward the dusty window. “The inclement weather, you know.”
Taking Aubriella’s cue, Roxina nodded and squinted into the darkness beyond the dirty windowpane. Snow pelted the glass, which didn’t portend well for an early morning departure. “Indeed. They should have arrived by now.”
A sinister sneer replaced his buffoonish grin.
“There ain’t no one meetin’ you. You were on the mail coach.” He loomed over them, hands fisted at his hips. “You think yer too good fer us, uppity wenches?”
Resisting the urge to lick her lower lip, Aubriella scanned the faces of the patrons, nearly all staring in her direction. Not a single person, including the innkeeper, could hold her gaze.
Cowards, the lot.
Heart pounding, Aubriella shrank against the wall as the brute reached for her. Unexpectedly, his eyes rounded in astonishment. He dropped his hand to his side, remaining motionless.
Jack stepped from behind his broad back, a pistol in one hand and a blade pressed against the cur’s bull-like neck. “She told you she was waiting for someone. We’ve arrived.”
Standing in the center of the taproom, apparently not the least bothered that he pointed a pistol at the other infuriated sod, Shelby Tellinger winked at the barmaid. “Be a love and bring a pot of tea, bread, cheese, and whatever else you have on hand that’s fresh and vermin free.”
He waved the pistol toward the other lout. “The Cowen brothers were just leaving, and we’ll take their table.”
How did Shelby know who they were?
The frazzled barmaid gave a cautious nod before disappearing into the kitchen.
Not a single patron moved, their focus fixated on the scene playing out before them.
“The ‘ell we are.” The miscreant half-rose, but Shelby pointed the gun at the bounder’s face, and he slowly lowered himself into his chair again.
“Did I fail to mention my name.?” A lethal tone Aubriella had never heard laced his voice. “Tellinger. Shelby Tellinger.”
The transformation in the men, including the blackguard Jack held at knifepoint, would’ve been comical if Aubriella could have drawn a breath to laugh. Truth be told, terror riveted her to the bench and stalled her breathing. On the other hand, her pulse raced faster than a horse competing in the Royal Ascot.
Evidently, the troublemakers knew something Aubriella did not, for they wasted no time tossing a few coins on the table and skulking from the inn despite the snowfall.
Why had the men reacted the way they had to Shelby?
