Perfectly Proper Page 4

  Morgan gathered herself. She tried to count to ten and keep her breathing even, but really, this was just too much! “Although I appreciate your assistance with the unfortunate situation, I don’t believe I owe you anything but my thanks.” What on earth is wrong with me? Even her maid gaped at her tone and behavior. It was all Morgan despised in those of the ton. That haughty, entitled, and decidedly snobbish group of people she did her best to avoid. She was used to being around men and holding her own. But this man, for some reason, set her teeth on edge. Her heart was racing and her face felt flushed. It must be her recent encounter with the sailors. She needed time to rethink her plan, but he continued with more questions that were decidedly none of his business, rescuer or not.

  “Did I hear you asking for passage? Don’t you know these aren’t passenger ships!?” His hands forcefully gestured to encompass the ships in their vicinity. “You’re lucky you weren’t hauled off to be sold!”

  Morgan schooled her features into one of studied disinterest during his latest tirade, but even she blanched at the truth in his last statement. As he gestured, the sun moved out of her eyes and allowed her to see his features more clearly. She no longer heard what he was saying. This was the man from the library! Not only did he know Jack, but he was one of them! Her mind began to calculate how she could enlist his aid, although he didn’t look in the mood to help anyone just now. But Morgan wasn’t going to give up. She had to help Jack. But before she could speak, his next words prompted a flash of annoyance that built quickly to a rage.

  “Just what madness has possessed you to go about unaccompanied instead of without an appropriate escort? What could you possibly be in need of that was this important? Where is your husband, or a brother, or your father for that matter?” Tristan resisted the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. He was shocked at how angry he felt.

  Morgan bristled at his assertion that a female couldn’t take care of herself, and must have some form of a male around to function. His intrusion and familiarity with her was really too much. “My needs are none of your business!” Realizing she was almost shouting, and they were beginning to attract attention, she tried to continue in a more moderate tone. She still needed this man’s help, although it took all of her focus when his eyes turned to a molten gold with her declaration, and flushed when she realized how he chose to interpret the statement. Blast this man!

  Morgan gritted her teeth and proceeded in what she hoped would pass a moderate tone. “Again, I appreciate your assistance. My father and brother have always found me quite capable, but I really must get to Whitby. It’s a matter of important family business.”

  Tristan didn’t pause to consider the feeling that her indication not being married aroused. He wasn’t planning to go to Whitby, at least not right away. Although plans could change, maybe I could start there. If he was being honest with himself, he had to admit she intrigued him. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Tristan liked the way her eyes flashed when she was annoyed, which seemed to have been almost the entire time she had been in his presence. This really wasn’t a good idea the voice in his head tried to reason. He considered his options and tried to sort things out in his head, but she was now silent and looking at him expectantly. He was usually rather relaxed, but something about this girl set him on edge. Tristan wiped his hand across his eyes. He had a mission to accomplish and couldn’t afford a distraction.

  He was at the docks to see if a particular ship was in her berth. The ship’s missing owner was the reason Tristan was on this mission, and he planned to question the captain. Unfortunately, his idea was not going as planned. Jack Westfall, as he was known to the agency, was more than a missing agent, he was also Tristan’s close friend. He could not be distracted from this mission by a mere chit of a girl. Maybe it was time he sought out some sort female companionship. The girl was about to start talking again, so he cut her off, “What kind of family business?”

  Morgan let out an exasperated breath, more to cover how unsettled she felt. She was not so inexperienced that she missed the change in his view of her when she indicated she wasn’t married. However, what was more unsettling was her reaction to him. How could she convince him to take her to Whitby? She frowned and began chewing on her lip.

  Tristan shifted and placed his broadsword back in the scabbard, revealing the hilt and it’s intricately carved design. Morgan knew that design; it was on her brother’s ring. She made a decision. It was the logical choice after all.

  “I need to go to my brother.”

  “Isn’t it a little unusual for a lady of your station to go traipsing off without a chaperone?” Tristan continued in a scoffing manner, “And who is this brother that would condone this kind of trip? Why didn’t he arrange passage?”

  She couldn’t tell him that Jack wasn’t expecting her. How would he react to her even knowing about the organization? Morgan took a deep breath and decided she had nothing to lose. “The ship I was scheduled to take didn’t make port because of a recent storm.” There, that sounded reasonable enough. “But I really must reach my brother it’s important that I get to Whitby.” He still did not appear convinced. For Heaven’s sake! She needed to make something happen; it wouldn’t be long before the others found she was gone.

  “I’m Morgan Westfall, my brother is the Earl of Rathbourne, Jack Westfall. I believe you may be acquainted.” Morgan shifted her eyes to the hilt of his sword and nodded slightly. His facial expression did not change, but the air around them became thick with tension. Morgan suppressed a shiver as his eyes bored into hers and she had trouble maintaining eye contact.

  Tristan schooled his features to minimize any response showing on his face. He thought there was little she could say to shock him more than hearing her ask for passage. But this was it. She was a liar; not only did her body language give her away, he knew Jack didn’t have a sister. He was sure of it. Tristan tried to recall any conversation where Jack mentioned his family. There really wasn’t much of a need for the agents to know about each other’s families. But rescuing someone from near death tended to change some of that. Nothing came to mind at all. Jack doesn’t have a sister. So who is this person and why would she lie? Jack’s initial capture was the result of the agency being compromised. If she was sent to intercept him, then he had to assume this mission was also compromised. But that only increased the need for him to locate Jack. Why would she mention Whitby? Was she another agent? Nothing was clear. Tristan scanned the docks, didn’t see any other immediate threat, and made his decision. He wasn’t sure, but one could never be too careful, better to keep her close. Now he did have a reason to go to Whitby, to find out what she really knew.

  Morgan felt, rather than saw, the giant in front of her withdraw while he considered her. She held her breath.

  “You can let go of the dagger now. I believe I have the situation in hand, and I don’t care to stitch you up after you accidentally cut yourself.”

  Tristan watched the play of emotions across her face and knew she was annoyed again. He didn’t care. He needed to focus on business. He also knew she was aware of him. He certainly was aware of her. The voice reminded him again that this was not a good idea. He inwardly snorted with disgust at himself. “Tristan McTavish at your service my lady. I’ll take you; but not her.” Tristan nodded toward the very relieved–looking maid.

  Morgan’s eyes rounded and her lips parted slightly, “But that wouldn’t be—”

  “What? Proper? I think it’s a little late for you to worry about a sense of propriety. Look, you can come with me or no, it will be a hard enough journey with one helpless female, impossible with two.” He knew he had her. He could read how much she wanted to go.

  Morgan caught the slight hint of a Scottish accent. He never did acknowledge he knew Jack; he probably wouldn’t in front of others. But she thought she saw a glimmer of recognition. She needed to get there, and he indicated he would take her. So why didn’t she feel more relieved?

  Tristan forced
the voice away that arose again when she began absently chewing on her lower lip. He exhaled slowly as he realized he was holding his breath. Tristan was unsure if he hoped she would say yes, or no.

  Morgan opened her mouth again to protest the helpless female part, but quickly reconsidered. She was nothing if not practical. She knew she had few options and even less time, especially with the maid returning to the house. Although she was annoyed with his male holier than thou, lord of the manor approach, if he wanted to think she was helpless, so be it. “Alright, I’ll go.” The maid gave some token noises of protest about being left behind, but Morgan rolled her eyes and took her aside. “Just go back; I’ll be fine. Tell Derek only one of us could get passage on Jack’s ship, and I sent you back. But do not tell him the truth!” The maid scurried off without another backward glance.

  Tristan appraised the woman in front of him as they left the dock area to find a suitable mount. He wondered if she rode. Hell, he was still wondering if she was actually going to go through with this. He was a little shocked that she accepted his proposal, and he didn’t stop to explore what he would have felt if she declined. She seemed confident. It certainly took something to stand up to those sailors without swooning. And then there was the dagger. He initially thought she probably might hurt herself, but if she was an agent, she would be skilled at using one. She couldn’t give up her cover of playing an innocent society miss by refusing to hand it over. She was an exercise in contradictions, all the more reason to keep her close.

  Tristan continued his musings. She was taller than most, her nose met his chin, and he found himself contemplating how easy it would be when he kissed her. Tristan shook his head both literally and figuratively. What am I thinking! He needed all his energies and concentration focused on finding Jack, not some imposter claiming to be his sister. There was something a little familiar about her though. If she was Jack’s sister, what kind of danger was he bringing her into? What would Jack do to him if she was harmed? Or if I seduce her? He knew he didn’t have to spend much time searching for the answers to his last questions. But he planned to have all of his question answered one way or another by the time they reached Whitby. He considered her again. She seemed too young to be an agent, but then again, she could have been sent to distract him from his mission. Well, he refused to be distracted. He would deal with what was in front of him, and right now it was a very attractive pair of eyes looking at him expectantly. Blast! I’ve done it again. I really need to focus!

  EIGHT

  Securing another horse had been easy; the side saddle was a little more difficult. It was almost dark and they spoke little while on the road. Tristan usually slept outdoors when traveling, but he couldn’t imagine his companion doing the same. He would need to make arrangements at an inn, and frowned at the inconvenience. Coin wasn’t the problem; it was just difficult to travel unnoticed when one had to check in and out of places, and he wasn’t sure if they wanted to be noticed yet.

  He noted how well she rode. Well, that was to be expected somewhat, especially if she was an agent. At least he knew she didn’t spend all day doing needlework. Her back and shoulders were straight, tapering down to a slim waist. Her dress was not for riding, and the lighter material floated around her hips, providing tantalizing glimpses of her ankles. He imagined her calves and then the hollow behind her knee. Tristan smothered a curse and mentally jerked himself back to his surroundings

  Morgan felt a little ill. She couldn’t believe she was riding through the forest with a virtual stranger! This really wasn’t one of her better plans, but what choice did she have? Morgan watched him under her lashes and had to smother a laugh when she noticed the clenched jaw and determined set to his mouth. Well at least he was like other males in that respect, she managed to annoy him. Tristan initially tried to give her a small, docile mare, but she knew the mare would never be able to keep pace with the beast of a stallion he called Alasdair. He was dubious, but she insisted she could handle the more spirited gelding, and he finally capitulated. Although she suspected it was only to try and ‘teach her a lesson.’ Fortunately, Morgan had the riding skills to back her arguments. She patted her horse and murmured softly as he shied from some small animal scurrying in the underbrush.

  She continued to muse about how she ended up in this position. This definitely ranked in the top five of her most impulsive moments, but they usually turned out well. Like the time she …well maybe that wasn’t a good example. She thought harder and then brightened. Ah yes! When she… No, that didn’t turn out so well either. She was certain one would come to her; she simply didn’t have time to dwell on it now. Morgan was a little uneasy he never really questioned her further about her motives for the trip. Why had he agreed to take me to Whitby? He was a stranger, but there was something about him she trusted. She glanced at him once again. In truth, she was really more concerned about her own reaction to him. She felt on edge, and wasn’t sure how much was due to her sense of urgency—or to his presence. Morgan had enough beaus to recognize he was at least attracted to her. She handled some of the ton’s rakes without problem, but this man unsettled her. She remained wary, and not just because of his size. Her insides dropped and her heart beat faster as she replayed their initial encounter. She felt her face flush and frowned. I’m acting like some ninny out for her first season.

  Tristan watched the play of emotions across her face. She was either a consummate actress, and deserved to be at the Drury in front of the king, or she was a spy. There were no other explanations.

  It took longer than Tristan expected to leave the city, so they only had a few hours of light left. He thought about delaying for a day, but didn’t want to lose any more time. There was a small inn he believed they could reach, although he pondered the wisdom of this. He would really prefer to be further along.

  Tristan shared his plan for staying at the inn, but Morgan had her own thoughts about it. She would prefer to keep riding, but more to avoid having to deal with arrangements at the inn. She wasn’t naïve; she knew that without a ladies’ maid she would have to pretend to be related to him. And then just hope she was not recognized. But, by the time they reached the inn, Morgan knew she would need to rest. She let him assist her to dismount; several hours in the saddle was not something to which she was accustomed. Nor was the fission of excitement she felt as his hands closed around her waist.

  “Pull your cloak over your face and make sure your hair is hidden; I will secure rooms. You will be my sister.”

  They entered the taproom, and Morgan’s nose was assaulted by a riot of smells, venison, stale beer, and smoke. Her stomach rumbled and she realized she’d had nothing since breakfast.

  Tristan approached the man behind the bar. “I require two rooms, one for myself, and one for my sister.” He placed gold coins on the counter.

  The tavern owner had been around a long time. Members of the Quality occasionally stopped at his inn, but he doubted this piece of baggage was anymore this gent’s sister than he was. The owner started to send the man a knowing grin, but his expression froze as soon as he met Tristan’s eyes. The tavern owner swallowed convulsively, “I’ll see what I can do, but we’re full. I may be able to get you one room, but not two.”

  Tristan swore under his breath. He noticed that even with the cloak, Morgan seemed to be attracting a lot of attention. This inn was a little rougher than he recalled.

  Morgan heard the exchange and tried to calm the racing of her heart. The same room? Bloody unlikely! Even though her plan was to remain meek and biddable, this was simply too much. She was the daughter and sister of an Earl for pity’s sake. Friend of her brother’s or not he was about to learn a thing or two.

  Tristan and Morgan made their way down the narrow corridor to the room. Tristan didn’t like the arrangement, but there were few choices. The innkeeper closed the door behind them with a promise that food would be sent up soon. Tristan had to admit he was more than a little impressed with Morgan, not that he planned t
o share that with her. She did not complain once about the travel or the lack of rest. He surveyed the room and its meager items: one bed, a rather stiff-looking chair by the fireplace, and a small desk. Tristan knelt to kindle the fire.

  Morgan was not exactly sure how to go about this. He had not yet made any advances toward her. In truth, he barely paid her any attention since their arrival at the inn. So why did she feel like she was about to be devoured every time he looked at her? She absently chewed on her lip, Exactly how does one go about giving someone a set-down for advances that have not occurred? Morgan eyed the bed as Tristan walked to the window, opened it, and stuck his head out. What on earth is he doing? Is the man daft? He just built the fire, and now he was throwing the window wide open! Tristan shut the window and began to unclasp the torque holing his cloak.

  “What are you doing?” Morgan hoped to sound indignant and confident, but it came out as a squeak since her mouth was now dry.

  Tristan saw the panic in her eyes and was uncertain of the cause. “I’m only staying long enough for the inn to settle and make sure the area is secure. I’ll be staying in the stables.” I’m also not going to give you the opportunity to slit my throat.

  A knock on the door signaled the arrival of dinner. Bread, fruit, Stilton cheese, and a beef stew, there was even a pudding for dessert. Tristan tasted the wine, “Not bad.” He poured two glasses and watched her under hooded eyes as she relaxed and ate. She obviously had a good appetite; most English girls were puckish about their food, but not Morgan. Although he could certainly do without the images that sprang to mind as he watched her lips about to close over a strawberry.

  “Why am I so skittish?” Morgan thought. “This is ridiculous. He’s just a man, he is taking me to Whitby, and he knows Jack. At least I could be civil.” Morgan raised her eyes to address him and almost dropped the strawberry she was about to eat. His eyes were scorching, and she felt her face begin to flush. She realized she had cream on the side of her mouth.