The Hired Hero by Andrea Pickens Page A

fear, then confusion.
     “It’s all right,” he repeated, taking gentle hold of her shoulders. “You were having a nightmare.”
    “Oh! I’m...sorry,” she managed to reply as she struggled to gain control of her ragged breathing.
    He could feel her still trembling through the thin fabric. Instead of returning to his own bed, he let his hands move to the back of her neck where they began to massage the knotted flesh. “Take a deep breath,” he counseled.
    All at once, the fight drained out of her and her head slumped forward, coming to rest on his shoulder. Without thinking, his hand came up to stroke lightly over the cascade of curls hiding her face. It was a few minutes before he spoke again.
    “Better?”
    She suddenly stiffened and pulled away, drawing the thin blanket up to cover the front of her nightdress and looking away in embarrassment.
    Davenport dropped his hands to his side but didn’t move.
    “I...I didn’t mean to...disturb you. I won’t let it happen again.”
    He ignored her words. “Would you like a glass of water?”
    She shook her head. Her eyes were still averted.
    “Miss,” he began.
     She started and turned towards him, as if to speak. But her eyes abruptly stopped at a spot somewhere below his chin, then widened in shock.
    Puzzled, he followed her gaze down to his bare chest. He had retired clad only in his breeches—and usually he did without those. “Come now, it isn’t as if you have never seen a man without his shirt on.”
    She continued to stare in fascination at the sight of the dark curls and the tanned skin, chiseled into taut planes by the days of manual labor.
    “Ahhhem.” He reached for where he had dropped his shirt and tugged it on.
    Her head came up quickly. “You needn’t concern yourself any longer, sir. I shall not bother you again.” She made as if to lie back down, but he stopped her.
    “Make sure it has passed before you try to sleep again.”
     She looked confused. “Why...”
    “Do you have them often?”
    “No. At least, not until recently,” she replied truthfully.
    He gave a short laugh. “I can’t imagine why.” Even in the faint moonlight she could see that his face held no edge of unkindness, that, in fact, his usual scowl had softened into something akin to a smile.
     Her knees drew up under the meager bedcover and her arms wrapped tightly around  them. “Would that the rest of this was only a nightmare as well, and that I could simply wake and find myself free of it all,” she said with a heavy sigh.
     “Mayhap that will be very soon,” he  replied softly. To his surprise, he found he cared more than he wished to admit that his words would prove true.
     
    * * * *
    So the farmer hadn’t been too deeply in his cups to make an accurate observation, noted the gentleman. He let the curtain of the carriage window fall closed and settled back against the soft leather. The hat may obscure the features and the jacket cover up the slender figure, but to an observant eye, nothing could  hide the fact that the “groom” did not move quite like a lad.
    No, there was no doubt. It had to be her.
    But what was the chit up to? Who was the man with her and did he know what she was up to? That would add complications....
    Then his mouth curled upwards as he recognized her traveling companion. The Duke’s daughter could not have chosen a less likely protector! It took little imagination to picture what the infamous Earl of Davenport was up to. How he had managed to strike up an acquaintance with the girl was a still a mystery, but his intentions most certainly were not. He was known for his outrageous larks, especially when it came to seducing innocent young ladies. This masquerade had to have one purpose, and one purpose only.
     Well, that suited his own purpose quite nicely. The dissolute nobleman would hardly interfere with his plans for the girl. No doubt he was already bored and, having ruined the chit, would be more than ready to move