A Convenient Bride Read Free

into the country.
    The coach robbery had been an unintended and lucky turn of events.
    “Miss Brenna?” The stranger’s question returned her attention back to him. He’d lost his smirk. “Are you Brenna Harrington?”
    Shocked that he knew her name, she refused to answer. He clearly took this as confirmation of her identity. Stepping toward her, he closed his hand over her wrist and wrenched it off the bridle. He held her in a tight grip and leaned to look directly into her face.
    Brenna bit back a whimper. She’d underestimated him. He
was
dangerous. Could he be rethinking ravishment? Worse, would he kill her just for the enjoyment of doing so?
    And for a moment, she thought that was her fate. Trapped in the grip of his dark gaze, her breath caught as his eyes trailed from her eyes to her breasts and back up again. Yet even as she braced herself to fight, she suddenly felt no fear.
    His eyes spoke not of murder or rape but of something else she could not read. She would live another day.
    “Forget this nonsense and go home before your father gives you a beating you well deserve.” He released her, and she rubbed her chafed wrist. But it wasn’t his callous treatment of her delicate bones that left her silent.
    In those few seconds when his warm hand had touched her exposed skin above her glove, something upended inside her, and her body had snapped to attention. Beneath his drab and dusty clothing, Brenna became shockingly aware he was notjust a highwayman but a man, a very virile and dangerous man.
    Goodness.
    Thankfully, he appeared unaware of his effect on her. Had he known how her body reacted from his simple touch, she might have been compromised in truth.
    With a fluid motion, he swung up into the saddle and shot her one last glare as she stood stock-still, her skin still tingling from his grip.
    “If I see you alone on these roads again, Miss Harrington, I’ll paddle you myself.”
    Brenna gasped and watched him spin his horse around and race down the road, mud clumps flying up in their wake.
    Time slowed. The smell of wet leaves, a distant bird call, the sound of Fletcher muttering, all blurred as she watched him race out of her life on a lathered horse.
    Calling him back would serve no purpose. He’d made his decision not to help her. And she did have some pride left.
    She rubbed her wrist and waited until he disappeared around a bend before slowly turning back toward the coach. It was then she realized there was more to his stunned reaction to her name. He’d looked at her with puzzled recognition.
    Could the man have intimate knowledge of her family? Was he someone with whom Father or Mother were acquainted?
    Surely not; he was a highwayman, after all. Yes, her family had many rogues and reprobates in their history. However, none recently—well, as far as she knew of anyway. Still, it was impossible to think that any of her extended family was closely connected with thieves.
    Through gossip was likely how he’d gotten his recognition of the Harrington name. Her family was often the topic of whispers and speculation. Either way, this highwayman made his decision quite clear. He’d not rescue her.
    Beneath crushing disappointment, she sloshed back to the coach and climbed inside, still feeling unsettled by the encounter and her stunning response to his touch.
    B renna Harrington. Richard found it difficult to believe the daughter of his good friend, Walter Harrington, had beenwandering the countryside looking for a rogue to rescue her from a wedding to a marquess, even if he agreed with her description of Chester Abbot.
    The man
was
a milksop.
    But Brenna Harrington? He hadn’t seen her since she was a gangly hellion who ran wild around the Harrington estate. And even then, their acquaintance had been brief and hardly worth noting.
    The chit had certainly grown into a beauty with the sort of face that could get a man into all kinds of trouble.
    He’d heard of the recent death of her uncle the earl