Free Fair Juno by Stephanie Laurens Page A

Juno’s, troubled green and concerned. He smiled reassuringly. ‘No.’
    Helen felt justified in ignoring the smile. ‘No’, he said, and smiled. Did he have any idea of the panic she was holding at bay by dint of sheer determination?
    Apparently, he did, for he continued, more seriously, ‘Getting stuck in that ford has delayed us too much. However, I draw the line at driving my horses through the night, not that that would avail us, for I can’t see arriving in London at dawn to be much improvement over our current state.’
    Helen frowned, forced to acknowledge the truth of that remark. He would not be able to hire a chaise for her if they passed by Hounslow in the middle of the night.
    ‘And, before you suggest it, I refuse to be a party to any scheme to hire a chaise for you to travel alone through the night.’
    Helen’s frown deepened. She opened her mouth to argue.
    ‘ Even with outriders.’
    Helen shut her mouth and glared. But his tone and the set of his jaw warned her that no argument would shift him. And, in truth, she had no wish to spend the night jolting over the roads, a prey to fears of highwaymen and worse. ‘What, then?’ she asked in her most reasonable tone.
    She was rewarded with a brilliant smile which quite took her breath away. Luckily, he did not expect her to speak.
    ‘I had wondered,’ Martin began diffidently, unsure how his plan would be received, ‘if we could find an inn where neither of us is known, to put up in for the night.’
    Helen considered the suggestion. She could see no alternative. Raising her napkin to wipe her lips, she raised her eyes to his. ‘How will we explain our disreputable state— and our lack of servants and luggage?’
    The instant she asked the question, she knew the answer. Deliciously wicked, but, she reasoned, it was all part of her adventure and thus could be viewed with a lenient eye.
    Pleased by her tacit acceptance of the only viable plan he had, Martin relaxed. ‘We can tell the same story I edified our host with—that we’ve had an accident and our retainers are following behind with the luggage.’
    Still a little nervous of the idea, Helen nodded. Did he intend to claim they were wed?
    ‘Which reminds me,’ said Martin, sliding the gold signet from his right hand. ‘You had better wear this for the duration.’ He held the heavy ring out and dropped it into her palm.
    Helen studied the ring, still warm from his hand. Obviously, they were to appear married. She slipped it on to the third finger of her left hand. To her surprise, its weight, in that remembered place, did not evoke the expected horror.Instead, it was strangely reassuring, a source of strength, a pledge of protection.
    ‘Very well,’ she said. She drew a deep breath and purposefully added, ‘But we’ll have to have separate rooms.’ Determined to be clear on that point, she raised her eyes to his darkly handsome face and beheld a haughty expression.
    ‘Naturally,’ returned Martin repressively. It would undoubtedly be safer that way. Aside from anything else, he would need to get some sleep. He studied Juno’s fair countenance and the need to know her real name grew. Given that they were to masquerade cloaked in wedded bliss, he felt that their increasing intimacy justified a request for enlightenment. ‘I rather think, my dear, that, given our new relationship, it might be appropriate if I knew your name.’
    Engrossed in fantasies revolving around their new relationship, Helen gave a start. ‘Oh.’ She thought once more of the matter, inwardly acknowledging her reluctance and her reasons for it. Eyeing the handsome face, the strangely compelling eyes fixed on hers, she admitted to an urge to tell him, to confide in a man so transparently at ease in her world. But hard on the heels of that feeling came a premonition of how he would look when he heard her name. He would know of her husband; they would likely have met. What would he feel—pity? Revulsion, albeit