The carriage stopped, and Georgiana smiled.

Lord Hamish Montgomery must have found an inn, and when his footsteps padded from the driver’s perch to the door, she pulled the blanket about her and prepared to leave.

The door opened, and he appeared.

Outside him was only inky darkness, and not the cheerful glow of a coaching inn.

Uncertainty swept through her, and he sat down on the seat opposite. The space diminished in size, and she drew her feet toward her, conscious of long legs, broad shoulders, and a seductive fragrance.

“There’s no coaching inn,” he said.

“Then keep on going,” Georgiana replied.

The answer was simple, but for some reason the man was not moving.

“It’s dark, and the road isn’t good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the horses. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

Georgiana’s shoulders slumped. Lord Hamish Montgomery had been riding outside on the perch, but he could hardly be expected to sleep outside. No. They would need to share this tiny, compartment which wasn’t conducive even to pleasant sitting.

Traveling alone with a man was scandalous, but sleeping in a small, enclosed environment? Far from anyone?

Her heartbeat quickened, but she jutted out her chin and forced her voice to sound confident. “Let’s keep on going. The inn is bound to appear soon.”

“Very well,” he said after a pause. “But we really can’t do it for long. This lantern won’t last, and it’s too dim to be much help for the horses when they’re stepping over the road.”

“Ten minutes,” Georgiana said.

He nodded curtly. Soon the coach jostled to a start, and Georgiana leaned back against her seat. Her heart thrummed with too much force for her to feel relieved. She hoped she’d made the right decision.

Georgiana moved the curtains back and searched the darkness, trying to distinguish if any of the dark shapes in the night might be a building, the sort that would come with warm food and drink and a bed that wouldn’t rattle and sway in the night.

Boom.

The horses grunted, and the rhythm of the hooves became more frantic. The coach veered to the side, sending her sliding to the opposite side of the coach. Her shoulder smacked against the hard, polished wood just as he cursed.

She scrambled upright, rubbing her shoulder. The horses continued to neigh, and their hooves continued to pound against the ground, as if scrambling to right themselves.

Georgiana’s heart lurched in her chest.

The sound had been too large, but more worrisome was the fact that the coach was no longer moving.

It was supposed to be moving.

They wouldn’t be able to reach the next posting inn if the carriage couldn’t move, and right now proceeding even a few measly yards seemed an insurmountable feat.

Georgiana pushed open the door and rushed outside. For the first time the ground did not seem far away, but her reaction was not joy.

“Are we stuck?” Georgiana asked in a small voice.

“Aye.” He hopped onto the ground and grabbed the lantern. “I’ll examine it.”

The golden glow of the lantern moved with him, leaving her in darkness. A blustery wind fluttered her clothes, and she wrapped her arms around her. She’d heard the wind pattering against the carriage, but she’d hoped part of its force could be attributed to their speed.

She couldn’t retain the same hope now.

It was cold and dark.

And they were alone.

“How is it going?” she asked.

“Not good. A wheel is broken.”

“And I don’t suppose there’s a spare?” Her voice squeaked, as if guilt and hopelessness were weighing against her chest, rendering any speaking a challenge.

“No.”

Right.

Georgiana supposed wheels were rather too large and too cumbersome to make riding with spares a common practice, but disappointment still moved through her.

“Let me look,” she said, stumbling over the uneven ground. 

“Suit yourself.”

Her feet wobbled over the path, abundantly scattered with stones and tree roots, and she made her way to the lantern.

“See?” He moved the lantern lower and handed it to her.

It wasn’t a hallucination.

The wheel was broken.

“We’ll find someone to fix it in the morning when it’s light,” he said.

“And where do you expect us to sleep tonight?”

Georgiana abhorred the wobble in her voice and the fact that it had ascended an octave.

“It will have to be in the coach,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wish we could be at an inn too, but I don’t see another option.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re supposed to take me back. That was the plan.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

She was alone with a man.

At night.

Secluded from everybody and everything.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, despite the fact that he seemed to be under the impression that she was strong,

“We’ll be on our way to Gretna Green in no time. You’ll see. Besides, I’ve already seen you in your night rail,” he murmured.

“You mustn’t remind me of that.” Georgiana’s voice was miserable. “That was through no fault of mine.”

There had been women at her finishing school who interested themselves in men, being sent to the school after sneaking kisses with the footmen and grooms.

But that had never been Georgiana.

She’d tried to behave.

In fact—it had been easy to behave.

Temptation had never presented itself to her.

But now a multitude of things could happen.

She couldn’t simply curl up beside him and sleep.

Georgiana jerked her head up, colliding with his arm. She rubbed her hand and tried to shake off the man’s always seductive fragrance. “There’s always a way.”

“And what do you suggest?” He crossed his arms, and his voice was icy.  

“I’ll find the posting inn.” She turned, but he gripped her arm, sending warmth jolting through her. She struggled from his grasp.

This was the countryside. She should be able to roam about over dewy meadows and wildflowers. 

“It’s dark,” he said, his voice stern.

“I’ve noticed.” She stepped back, and a twig snapped beneath her.

“Naturally. But you can’t abandon the coach.” He stepped toward her, forcing her to tilt her head up.

“I’ll come back,” she said hastily. “And I can’t spend the night here, alone.”

“With me,” he finished for her, but the sternness of his voice had disappeared.

Was he remembering their first meeting? Was he remembering the feel of her bosom pressed against his chest, and of how his arms had wrapped around her waist? Was he remembering the feel of her lips against his? Of her taste?

Doubtless, he was in the habit of kissing women like that. He strode with the confidence of a man who never questioned his appeal, who was certain his presence alone would suffice in bringing people joy.

She refused to succumb to his appeal. She needed her own room or even one that she might share with the servant girls of the various travelers. That would suffice. She wasn’t asking for much; she just wanted to be away from him.

This was the man who’d worked to destroy her sister’s marriage before it even had a chance to happen. This was the man who’d sneaked into her room in the night, not caring about any rules of propriety or her fear. If her parents had discovered him there, she might have been forced to marry him.

Georgiana reminded herself that there could be no worse fate.

No, perhaps they would need to travel with each other, but that would be in daylight.

She’d be a fool to trust him.

“I’ll be back in the morning.” She marched away from him, widening her strides.

“Georgiana!”

It was the first time he’d called her by her first name, and she wondered if he’d elected to do so now out of expediency or if he’d been referring to her by that name in his mind all along.

No matter.

It was not the sort of thing to mull over.

“You mustn’t go!” Lord Hamish Montgomery called again, but his voice had already grown fainter, and Georgiana smiled. At least she was making good speed. She rushed down the road, floundering over the occasional root. She had a moment of longing for London’s cobbled streets. Dirt roads were occasionally less bumpy, but after a rain shower deep grooves could furrow into the dirt.

This lane had evidently seen many rain showers.

If only there’d been a second lantern.

Or perhaps she should have taken the only lantern. Lord Hamish Montgomery had been intent, after all, on staying by the coach. She quirked a smile, wondering just what compilation of Scottish sounding curses he would utter if she’d done that.

She strode forward. Tall hedges lined both sides of the road, and she told herself it was a sign of inhabitants. Or was it a sign of an empty estate which would have no posting inn to serve it? Would highwaymen be lurking in the top of the chestnut trees on the other side of the hedges, eager to jump on passersby in the hopes of expanding their coin?

A shiver, one perhaps not entirely attributable to the frigid temperature, moved through her, but she continued forward.