Unlacing the Innocent Miss by Margaret McPhee Page A

before he masked it with a tight controlled expression. ‘Fit your stockings and your boots, Miss Meadowfield.’ He waited by the door, his gaze not on her but on the wall opposite.
    She did as he bid and came to stand before him, her cheeks burning, her gaze averted. She followed him along the passageway and down the stairs into the public room. They did not speak or even look at one another, as if pretending that nothing had happened, that everything was as it had been before. But nothing was the same; they both knew that.
    She did not think of the tenderness of her feet, or the slowed pace of his walking as they made their way down to the public room. She did not think of anything at all, except for Wolf and the power of what had just passed between them.
     
    Wolf did not sit down at their table in the public room.
    ‘I’ll ready the horses. See if the landlord has any bread and cheese to spare that we may purchase to take withus. We have wasted enough damn time this morning.’ He strode out of the inn towards the stables without so much as a backward glance, slamming the door behind him.
    He did not stop until he was out in the stable, standing by the stall in which his great grey stallion was housed.
    What the hell had just happened in there? He had gone up to her chamber intent on delivering her a warning, of ensuring that she knew he would not stand for her to play him a fool. And he had ended up on his knees, caressing her bare legs. Had not Kempster arrived when he did, Wolf knew that the footman would have interrupted something even worse. Wolf would have kissed her, and God only knew what else. He clasped a hand to his head, unable to believe it.
    What in damnation had he been thinking? She was everything that he despised. She led a privileged pampered life. She was from the sort of genteel social-climbing family that he loathed. Money and the ton’s opinion were everything to her, so much so that she thought she could skin her employer and get away with it. Because that’s what people of her station did, they took what they wanted without a single consideration for the outcome. They never saw the effects of their actions, never faced the consequences. And Wolf hated them for it…and he hated Miss Meadowfield just the same, for she was one of them.
    He hated her, and yet in those moments in that room, he had wanted her. Too damned long without a woman. There could be nothing more to it than that. She was young and attractive. He was just a man, after all. A man that should find the likes of Rosalind Meadowfield the least attractive of all women. Bloody fool, he chastised himself.
    ‘You all right?’ Campbell stood in the stable entrance.
    ‘I’m fine,’ Wolf said curtly and opened the stall gate.
    ‘You didnae eat your breakfast.’
    Wolf finished buckling up the leather straps around the horse’s girth. ‘I’m not hungry.’
    Campbell looked unconvinced. ‘Did you tell her there are no horses for hire?’
    ‘Didn’t get round to that.’
    A single eyebrow arched on Campbell’s face. ‘What did she say of her wee attempt at escape?’
    ‘Nothing.’ Wolf concentrated on finishing off fastening the tack.
    ‘Then you were discussing her thirty-mile walk?’
    ‘something like that.’ He did not look round at Campbell.
    ‘And will the lassie be walking the day?’
    ‘Not likely; her feet are cut to ribbons.’
    ‘Told you that did she?’ Campbell probed.
    Wolf ignored the question. ‘She’ll ride pillion as she’s told to.’
    ‘I’ll take your baggage upon my horse. Give you a bit more room for Miss Meadowfield.’
    ‘I’ll carry the baggage; the woman can ride with you or Kempster.’ What had just happened in her room was warning enough, and Wolf was no fool.
    There was a silent pause before Campbell moved to see to his own horse. ‘As you will, Lieutenant,’ and the fleeting gaze that met Wolf’s was too knowing. He lifted the saddle and sat it upon the horse’s back. ‘You