Through the Smoke by Brenda Novak Page B

the confident way he’d let himself into the shop. It had almost been as if he had a right to be there. As though the McTavish wench would welcome him.
    And after all her airs and self-righteous rhetoric about helping the poor working class! Evidently she’d found a way to improve her own lot and had jumped at the chance.
    The earl’s whore. Not a pretty title, but depending upon Druridge’s devotion, Rachel could change everything. An unexpected but bold move.
    Cutberth definitely needed to hear about this.

    Truman slammed his fist into the stable wall, scaring the horses. They nickered and whinnied in surprise, but he didn’t care if he woke the stable master, the stable master’s dogs and all the lads sleeping above.
    She was still with him, damn it. After five miles of slow travel, he couldn’t escape his desire for Rachel McTavish. He had left her standing in that humble bookshop, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted, waiting for his kiss, and he had managed to walk away. But he had regretted it the moment he climbed astride his horse—more with each passing mile. She did something to him, something he couldn’t quite combat. He’d chosen to ignore herand move on. But that wasn’t as easy as he’d expected it to be. Deep down, he believed that maybe, just maybe, a woman like Rachel would be the perfect antidote to his cynicism and doubt.
    Shaking away the pain in his hand and willing away the ache in his loins, Truman wished he’d never met Rachel. He’d been caught in her spell ever since he’d seen her on that ladder—a bit of revenge for Jack, were he alive to enjoy it. After last night, Truman was more enchanted than ever. He remembered the feel of her arms around his neck, the way she’d gasped as he moved inside her.…
    Ah, sweet torture
. But she was just one more thing to steal his focus from where it needed to be: solving the mystery of Katherine’s murder. Considering all that had transpired, Rachel would never have a kind thought for him.
    It was better to forget her. Certainly he’d be able to, eventually.
    The sound of hooves beating the damp earth and then clattering over the gravel of the drive echoed above the settling noises of the stable he’d just left. Truman stepped closer to the stone wall that separated the slaughtering house and chicken coop from the kitchens and waited for his cousin to shelter his horse. What kind of shape would Wythe be in tonight? Rough living and alcohol were taking a toll on his work at the mine, but he refused to believe he had a problem.
    Because Truman expected Wythe to be drunk, again, he was surprised to watch his cousin make his way toward the house on sure feet.
    “Another late night?” he asked, stepping into his path.
    Wythe didn’t seem startled. “Not as late as most,” he said, barely breaking stride.
    Truman fell in step beside him. “Did Elspeth close early?”
    “Elspeth never closes,” he said with a grin. “That’s what I love about her. But you wouldn’t know. You take your pleasure right here, eh, cousin?”
    Truman refused to let Wythe bait him, especially when he believed that Wythe was to blame for last night. “Actually, I’m glad you mentioned that. Rachel claims your horse threw her. You wouldn’t have any idea how that could have happened, would you?”
    Wythe slanted a glance his way. “She must’ve been dreaming. I told you this morning I merely made her an offer—one she apparently couldn’t refuse.”
    “That’s what I thought.” Truman smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. Just like I know you will stay away from her in future… because we wouldn’t want any trouble between cousins. Am I right?”
    Wythe stopped and gaped at him, shocked by the veiled threat. But Truman wasn’t about to back down. He wanted to make his point perfectly clear. Rachel might hate him, and he might want to keep his distance from her. But he would not allow anyone connected