Free A Notorious Love by Sabrina Jeffries

even wait for her—the arrogant beast.
    Even as she started down the stairs behind the footman, she caught sight of Mr. Brennan headed for the front door. “Wait, Mr. Brennan!” she called out, hurrying down the steps as quickly as her leg would allow. “I’m coming!”
    He turned toward the staircase, his gaze falling on the footman hefting her bag. “I thought I told you to pack light.”
    “That’s as light as I could manage.”
    He stopped the footman before he could pass. “Leave that here. I’ll take care of it.”
    “Surely you will not be so wretched as to leave my bag behind,” she snapped at her giant adversary. She reachedthe bottom of the stairs and halted a few feet from him. “It’s far easier for a man to pack light than a woman, you know, and we’re not sure how long we’ll be gone.”
    “All the same—” he began, shifting his gaze to her face. Then he stopped short. “This isn’t a good beginning a’tall, m’lady.”
    She refused to let him intimidate her. “If you mean to tell me I can’t go along simply because my bag is too big—”
    “I’m not talking about the bag. I’m talking about that. ” He nodded at her neck. “I told you no lace.”
    Her hand instinctively went to her throat. The half-inch border of lace at her collar was the only lace on the entire gown, which was why she’d chosen the dress in the first place. “This gown is the simplest I own.” Sarcasm crept into her tone. “I’m sorry if it has a trifle adornment. If I’d had time to remove it, I would have.”
    He quirked one eyebrow up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slender object and came toward her. Without warning, he reached up to grasp one end of her lace, but only when he lifted his hand did she see a flash of steel and realize what he intended.
    “Don’t you dare!” she hissed, but it was too late.
    He’d already sliced the lace from her collar with a deft stroke of his pen knife. One quick pull and he tore it off as neatly as a milliner splits ribbon.
    His eyes were sleet on slate. “There. That took no time a’tall.” Then stuffing the sad little strip into his pocket, he lifted her bag and strode off toward the door.
    She scowled as she followed him, her cane’s staccato taps on the marble floor increasing in volume with her anger. “Even milkmaids occasionally wear lace, for heaven’s sake,” she grumbled.
    He stopped short so quickly she nearly tripped over hisbig riding boots. “Did you speak, m’lady? As I recall, one of my conditions was that you keep your opinions to yourself. You even agreed to it.”
    A pox on his “conditions”! They were almost as impossible to follow as Mrs. N’s, and if the beast wasn’t smirking at her as if to say, I knew you’d never manage it, she’d tell him so.
    Jerking her gaze from his, she lifted her head high and walked right past him through the open door. “You misheard me just now, Mr. Brennan. I was merely complimenting you for your excellent knowledge of women’s fashion.”
    “Were you indeed?” he drawled. “Then p’raps you should refrain from complimenting me lest I ‘mishear’ you change your mind about going along.”
    “You know perfectly well that I—Merciful heavens, what is that?”
    She halted at the top of the entranceway stairs, frozen by the sight of a huge horse, saddled and waiting impatiently at the bottom for its rider. A groom held the creature’s head, but even he looked wary of the gigantic bay mare.
    “It’s my horse,” Mr. Brennan said from behind her. “What did you think a man my size would ride? A wee pony?”
    Behind the mare stood a gelding bearing a sidesaddle. It was not quite so monstrous a horse, but still large enough to alarm her.
    Mr. Brennan sauntered down the stairs to the groom holding that one. “Here you are.” He handed the groom her bag. “Fit what you can of her things into the saddlebags, all right?”
    “Very well, sir,” the groom murmured and began his