New excerpt from A Bachelor No More

Here is a new excerpt from upcoming Book 1 of the Quest for the Shroud series, A Bachelor No More.

In this scene, Avalon Society Member and known rake, Lucien Saintmaur, aka Wyldhurst, deals with the prudish Miss Hazel Grimm.

 

“Are you quite certain we cannot make it?” Hazel asked again.

“Miss Grimm. We are in the midst of a torrential rain. The roads are nearly impassable at present and will only get worse. True, we are not far from Gryffestone, but had we continued onward, we might have well spent the rest of the night inside the carriage when the wheels became mired in the mud. We would be stuck and in a very precarious position if your attackers came upon us. This inn is our safest option,” Luc took her hand and helped her from the carriage. Actually, it was more like a quick jerk of the hand that led to the dragging of the irritating lady behind him. He quickly situated them inside the dry entry of the Badger Inn.

After requesting the largest set of rooms available, which unfortunately turned out to be only one room with a small parlour, he followed Miss Grimm up the narrow steps.

Maids scurried about the room before leaving them to their privacy. The food he had requested was laid out upon the table. A warm fire blazed in the hearth.

When he threw the bolt to bar the door, Miss Grimm nearly jumped from the chair she had taken near the fire.

Her grey-blue eyes grew wide with fear as she watched him. He was convinced the woman would jump at the sight of her own shadow. 

He sighed heavily. “Once again, Miss Grimm, I assure you, you are safe from me. I bolted the door to protect us, to keep harm out and for absolutely no other reason.”

What was it Damien had told him? Oh, yes. She was jittery around men. There was no doubt, she was. There must be a legitimate reason men frightened her. He decided that was none of his concern. Tomorrow morning he would deliver her to the Earl of Kinross who awaited her at Gryffestone, and be done with her.

“Yes, of course,” she expelled a relieved sigh. Her eyes darted around the room. Beyond an open door, she could make out one bed in the room. “There is only one bed?” Hazel regretted that her voice came out resembling a high-pitched squeak.

“You will sleep in the bed, Miss Grimm. I’ll keep watch here, in this chair,” Luc said as he plopped down in the only comfortable chair in the room. It wasn’t large enough for his tall, muscular frame, but it would have to do. He shrugged. At least the woman was talking now. She had remained silent for the last hour in the carriage after he admonished her for complaining non-stop.

“Eat,” he waved toward the cold collation on the table. He continued, “And get to bed. Hopefully the rain will cease and we can get an early start to Gryffestone on the morrow, eh?” A smile turned up the corners of his mouth when he noted the whiskey on the table beside him. He poured himself an ample dose of the dark, amber liquid. Whiskey, it was the very best thing about being in Scotland.

“You are imbibing in spirits?”

Again, she gave him that wild-eyed look then those same eyes narrowed into a stony, gray glare.

“Yes. I am indeed. It is a fine whiskey. Would you care for a dram, Miss Grimm? It will warm your bones.” He seriously doubted it would do much to loosen up a disagreeable spinster like her, though.   

“I wish you would not drink. Men lose their wits when they drink strong spirits,” she informed him in a derogatory tone.

Her tongue was bitter, true, but there was that haunted, fearful look in her eyes again. Yes, yes, whiskey made men lose their wits and breasts made them sin. She had lists of sins and he had heard them all since he first laid eyes on her earlier that morning. Little wonder Miss Grimm was a spinster, and shoved as far back on the shelf as a woman could get. He smiled at his own witty jest. What Miss Grimm needed was several shots of whiskey and a good, hard…tumble. The corner of his mouth lifted.

Hazel wondered why he smiled. He seemed amused. He had already demonstrated that he could be trusted. He saved her life after all. She would not have survived the assault he spared her from this day. Why then did she fear him? Was it those black slashing brows or his unreadable green eyes. Perhaps it was the sheer size of him. The man was tall with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen. His arms and legs were muscled; in fact, the man was nothing but muscle. She didn’t understand it. She felt uneasy and on guard around him every moment.    

She was still glaring at him. He grimaced. He was certainly not the man to give that woman a tumble. Although that riot of bright red hair fanned out upon a pillow might be a sight to see, he was not willing to go far enough to find out, thank you very much.

“Fine. I won’t drink,” Luc growled in irritation as he slammed the crystal glass upon the table. Yes, a day of Hazel Grimm’s company was more than enough. He rose and walked to the table. He perused the cold platter that had been left for them. He picked up a hunk of bread and took a bite. It was tasty, fresh even. With one physical need completely ruled out for the evening, for he would not be going there with her, he turned to fulfilling another. The food was fresh and flavored well despite it being cold.   

“You will come eat,” it was a polite command.

“I don’t think I could,” Hazel shook her head. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Yes, that was it. He made her nervous. He watched her too closely. That was why she was uneasy in his company.

Did she frown all of the time? “Suit yourself,” he shrugged and threw a grape into the air, catching it with his open mouth. Quite amused by her snort of displeasure, he sat and entertained himself with some more tidbits upon the platter. A piece of beef, a nip of cheese. His entertaining game lasted all of five minutes, until he realized she was still staring at him wide-eyed. It unnerved him to the point he decided to do something about it.

“Miss Grimm, would you mind not staring at me? If you continue, I shall be forced to believe that you find me devilishly handsome and wish to be seduced this eve. Do you want to be seduced? Do you wish to let me have my way with you?” He pretended to begin to rise from the bench.

“Sorry, I – I,” she stammered as she hastily rose. “No! I will retire,” her voice was a desperate whisper, her cheeks flamed bright red, not far from the color of that glorious hair.

“Do not bolt the bedchamber door, Miss Grimm,” he barked. He smiled inwardly. He could be just as disagreeable to her as she had been to him the entire day.

“Why not?” She whipped around to face him.

He noted a flash of defiance in her eyes. Hmm? Interesting. He explained calmly, “If someone came in through your window, I could not prevent them from taking you.”

“Oh. I see.” Another blush “I will not bolt it then.”

“Suit yourself.”

He watched as she picked up both her bags and entered the bedchamber. She closed the door. He did not hear the bolt slide.

Hazel admonished herself. When he mentioned seduction, why had she felt…pleased? She never wanted to, well, she just could not. The sins of her past could not be erased. She could not think of marriage or that. Ever.

Why after all these years did she feel disappointed? She shook her head. She was being a complete ninny. It was the first time she had ever spent so much time in the company of a man not of her relation. And he was rather handsome. That must be why she was uneasy, timid, and felt quite out of place. Or what was she felt temptation? The kind that would lead her to sin. No! She would overcome such feelings and prevail.   

With a sigh of relief and a grin, Luc returned to the chair and his whiskey. He downed what remained in his glass then poured himself another. He lifted it toward the closed door and whispered, “Thank goodness there are warm, talkative, and willing women in the world who appreciate men, for Miss Hazel Grimm is certainly not one of them.” Pleased with himself, he let go a boisterous laugh.

It was too bad that Miss Grimm was such a sourpuss. Her fiery hair could indeed tempt a man. Those plump breasts, what little evidence he saw of them earlier, and when not flattened by that ridiculous binding she insisted upon wearing, could definitely fill a man’s hand. He found her gray eyes quite interesting when she wasn’t glaring at him, or when they grew wide with fear. He wondered for a moment, and only a moment, what desire would do to the silvery blue of her large eyes.

He sighed. Hazel Grimm was the worst kind of spinster, for she truly hated men. So he would think on her no more. It would be a complete waste of his time.