Desiring Lady Caro by Ella Quinn Page A

the map.”
    A few minutes later, Caro entered the room dressed in a morning gown. A frown marred her lovely countenance. “Dalle told me about the marchese’s man.”
    Huntley spread the map out and put his finger down on the town of Ala. “This is where we are. If we change every time the horses tire, we could make forty or fifty miles a day on a good road. But we’re going uphill, and it’s going to get steeper the farther north we go. I suggest that to-morrow we try for Bolzano, and if we make it that far, spend the night in Frangarto. It’s off the main road by a few miles.”
    Caro leaned over the chart. She was close enough he could smell her light, lemony scent, mixed with chocolate. He breathed in and was distracted by the thought of running his tongue over her ear and down her neck to her . . . Good God, the woman was temptation incarnate.
    “We’ll have to leave even earlier than we’d anticipated,” she said.
    He bent over her, lightly caging Caro in his arms. “To ensure we make it, yes.”
    Rather than moving away as he thought she would, she measured off the miles with her fingers. “See here, if we stay in Frangarto to-morrow night, we might be able to reach Vipiteno or Brennero the next night. Though I don’t think we want to cross the pass in the evening.”
    Exactly what he’d been thinking, when he wasn’t engrossed in her. Nothing could convince him to start across the pass after noon. “I agree.”
    He straightened when Caro started to stand. Little by little he was making progress. Her hair was pulled back into one long, thick braid; tiny curls escaped around her face, and he longed to caress the wispy ones on her neck.
    She glanced at him with a strange look on her face, as if she didn’t quite know what he was thinking. All things considered, that was a damn good thing.
    “Well then, my lord”—Caro’s brows came together just the slightest bit—“I shall see you in the morning. If you will let Dalle and Raphael know our plans?”
    Huntley walked her to the door. “Certainly.” Keeping his desire from her was becoming more and more difficult. She was so close it was all he could do to stop from kissing her. “Until then. Five o’clock?”
    “If you wish. I can always sleep in the coach.”
    He accompanied her to her chamber, then returned to the parlor and called for Collins, Dalle, and Raphael. When the men arrived, he explained the plan. Huntley glanced from one to the other. “Do any of you have a comment to make?”
    Raphael and Dalle spoke in a rapid colloquial Italian that Huntley had trouble following. Dalle looked at Collins and Huntley before saying, “If we stop just long enough to change horses, and if we don’t have to wait for them, we can do it, my lord.”
    He stared at the map and nodded. “Which means we’ll have to bring provisions with us.”
    “Yes, my lord,” Collins said.
    “Very well. We still have some of what Lady Horatia gave us. I’ll have Maufe speak with the innkeeper and the cook.”
    Raphael spoke quickly to Dalle, who frowned. “Raphael says that it’d be better if we were to even out the loads. The coaches would be able to travel closer to the same speed, and that would make it easier to keep everyone together.”
    Under the circumstances, that was an excellent idea. “Very well, distribute the baggage between the carriages.”
    Dalle glanced down and shuffled his feet before saying, “Raphael says it would be better to move . . . The thing is, he wants Miss Nugent to ride with Maufe.”
    The devil! Were they trying to get him murdered? Huntley took a large breath and tried not to think about Caro’s reaction to that suggestion. “I could ride with Maufe.”
    “No, my lord. That won’t work,” Dalle said. “We need to keep the weight the same.”
    Huntley dragged his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps it would be better if I hired a horse.”
    Collins shook his head. “No, my lord. The marchese and his men know what you