TheWifeTrap Read Free Page A

shifted from one pen
to another.
    A long moment
passed before he continued. “Of course, if you’d rather, you can stay here
while I ride on. I’ll carry word to your cousins to let them know you’re in
need of help. I don’t expect it’ll take above four or five hours to set you on
your way again.”
    Four or five
hours! She couldn’t stay in this coach that long. Maybe he was exaggerating,
using subterfuge to lure her out of the vehicle. But what if he wasn’t? What if
her insistence upon remaining inside the barouche did make the difference
between traveling onward or remaining stranded? Why, in four or five hours it
would be dark!
    She shivered at
the thought. God only knows what sort of dreadful creatures might lurk in the
vicinity, ready to creep from their hiding places after nightfall. There could
be wolves—did Ireland have wolves?—or some other equally dangerous beasts. Hungry
beasts who might not mind nibbling on a young lady.
    Deliberately she
kept her voice from quavering, trying one last argument. “If all this is true,
why are you here telling me and not my coachman? I should think if things were
so dire, he would be delivering the news himself.”
    “He was gathering
up the nerve to tell you, as I understand it, when I happened along. He didn’t
like bearing the bad news, so I offered to deliver it myself.”
    She peered again
at the surrounding ocean of mud. “But where would I wait? Surely you can’t
expect me to sit atop my luggage in the middle of this bog while the sun toasts
me to a crisp.”
    The humorous
gleam returned to his gaze. “Don’t fret. There must be a spot of shade
somewhere hereabouts. I’m sure we’ll find one that suits.”
    She sincerely
doubted it, but what choice did she have? Either she vacated the coach or risk
still being here, virtually alone and unprotected, come eventide.
    O’Brien shot her
a sympathetic look, clearly aware of her dilemma and the internal war she
waged. Opening the barouche door, he stepped forward. “Come along and save your
stubbornness for another day. You and I both know the quicker we get you out of
this coach, the quicker you’ll be on your way.”
    “Has anyone ever
informed you that you are impertinent?” Grudgingly, she climbed to her feet.
    He chuckled. “A
time or two, lass. A time or two. Now gather whatever it is you need and let us
go.”
    She hesitated for
a long, indecisive moment, then bent to retrieve her reticule where it lay on
the coach seat. With it barely in hand, he reached inside and whisked her up
into his arms. Shrieking, she almost dropped her purse as he swung her clear of
the coach, his strength and balance the only things separating her from harm’s
way.
    He cradled her
against his solid chest, carrying her as though she weighed no more than a
feather, despite his earlier remarks to the contrary. His nearness washed over
her, engulfing her, surrounding her, the scent of fresh air and horses teasing
her nostrils, along with something else, something indescribably, deliciously
male.
    Surreptitiously
she tilted her head to catch a deeper whiff, the illusive fragrance uniquely
his own, she realized. She closed her eyes and for the briefest second
considered pressing her nose against his neck. Instead she held herself rigid
in his arms, distressingly aware of the thick brown ooze that encircled them
like a slick, squishy sea.
    “Don’t you dare
drop me,” she admonished, catching up the edges of her skirts to keep them from
falling into the mire.
    Methodically he
slogged forward, mud slurping in noisy protest against his tall boots as nature
fought to maintain its tenacious grip upon him. They were halfway across to the
oasis where the servants anxiously waited and watched, when O’Brien teetered,
his knees dipping precipitously downward for a sudden heart-stopping instant. She
screamed and wrapped her arms around his neck, unprepared for the plunge into
the tepid muck below.
    But just as
quickly as