Cross [1] Man Of My Dreams by Johanna Lindsey

Author:Johanna Lindsey [Johanna Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance
ISBN: 9780727822147
Publisher: Severn House Publishers Ltd
Published: 1992-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Not until the next day, and only after careful examination, did Megan admit to herself that she might have been a little reckless last night and deserving of a scolding—not a spanking, but a scolding. She had acted impulsively to follow Devlin and to make assumptions about where he was going. The fact was, if Devlin hadn’t been after the thief himself, he wouldn’t have shown himself right before she was about to, wouldn’t even have been there. And she would have confronted a stranger who wouldn’t have been the least bit intimidated by her as he was by Devlin. She would also have been quite alone with him, on a dark road, with darker woods on either side of them.

It was entirely possible that exactly what Devlin was predicting could happen could have happened. Just because the thief was an earl’s son and supposedly a gentleman wouldn’t have saved her. A lord acting as a highwayman left his principles at home, didn’t he? Confessing who she was probably wouldn’t have done any good either. After all, she was out late at night, and without an escort. Why should she be believed?

It was galling to admit that Devlin was right. She had behaved carelessly, recklessly, without a thought to the danger and risk she was taking. Just the idea of a stranger doing to her what Devlin had done made her skin crawl. Aside from that, good God, she could have been seriously hurt.

Maybe you ought to tell him you were wrong and won’t do it again.

And feed his colossal arrogance? Besides, Devlin still had no right to abuse my backside. He should have brought my behaviour to my father’s attention, not seen to it himself. I wouldn’t have liked it, but that would have been the proper thing to do.

So tell him that.

I think I will.

Devlin hadn’t made an appearance this morning when she’d gone for her ride—at a perfectly decent hour. She’d even lingered over Sir Ambrose’s grooming after she returned, but he still hadn’t shown himself. Mortimer had, before she’d left the stable, and when asked, he’d informed her that Devlin was sleeping off a “powerful headache.” That probably sounded worse than it was, though she’d still spent more time than she ought to today worrying about it.

She could always inquire about his headache if she lost her nerve about upbraiding him for last night. But when she entered the stable for the second time that day, he still wasn’t around, but again Mortimer was. The older man was just bringing out one of the new mares for exercising.

Megan stopped to admire the horse, and to ask with what she hoped didn’t sound like concern, “Is Mr. Jefferys still sleeping off that headache?”

The little man actually chuckled. “He’s starting on another one, is what he’s doing now.”

Megan frowned. “Another one? How does one ‘start’ on a headache?”

“By hitting the bottle, miss—two or three bottles, actually.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to take that startling news. Devlin was

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