Free Miss Marcie's Mischief by Lindsay Randall Page B

quite perplexed, "but she's managed to get under my skin."
    "What's that you say?" asked John Reeve, coming to stand beside Cole.
    Cole shook the cobwebs from his brain. "Nothing," he said.
    "Oh, it be something," said Reeve, a bit too smugly. "And I be thinking it have everything to do with the comely Miss Marcie."
    Cole frowned. "The mail, Reeve. Unload, and be quick about it!"
    "And what would you like me to do with Jack? Unload him as well?"
    Cole lifted one dark brow, watching as the aforementioned man finally awakened, jumped down off the carriage, moved to unhitch his excuse of a horse, and then headed for the stables of the inn.
    "I don't think that will be necessary," said Cole. "It seems that our highwayman has made his own decisions. I shall alert the fine keep of this inn as to Jack's straits and will see to it Jack and his horse have enough gold to see them through the remaining winter."
    Reeve sniffed, his disapproval of Cole's charity quite obvious. "I have to wonder, my lord—"
    "Cole Coachman, you mean," Cole said, glancing about to make certain no one had overheard the slip of Reeve's tongue.
    No one had.
    "Ahem... yes." Reeve sighed, clearly not pleased with the charade. "As I was saying, Cole Coachman, I have to wonder at the change come over you."
    "Change? I wasn't aware of any change, Reeve. I am the same man I was when we departed Town."
    "Oh, to be sure your patience is as thin as ever my lor—Cole Coachman." Here Reeve sniffed again, looking rather put out by Cole's apt demonstration of having little patience. "But your heart has become a might too tender of late."
    "And what the deuce does that mean?" Cole found himself fast losing what little patience he had left to him.
    Said Reeve, in a smug tone of voice, no less, "I never thought I'd live to see the day you took pity upon a highwayman. Why, you're even fussing about the man's miserable horse. Ain't nothing like the Cole Coachman I know."
    "How so?" demanded Cole, not at all pleased with Reeve's assessment, but at the same time not about to end the uncomfortable confrontation.
    "Testy, aren't we, eh?"
    "Not as testy as I'll be if you don't soon come to the point, man!"
    Reeve wrinkled his nose. "As I said, your temper is as quick as ever—"
    "Never mind that. It is what you said about my heart that has me all ears at the moment, Reeve. Get on with it."
    "Very well, then. Your heart, Cole Coachman, seems to have become so much mash during this ride. I do believe Miss Marcie is the cause. You have a fancy for her, haven't you?"
    Cole blanched. "Certainly not! The mischievous chit is but a runaway schoolgirl, still wet behind the ears. Why, she's trouble in triplicate. A veritable nuisance!"
    "And a very pretty one at that, hmmm?" added Reeve, smiling knowingly.
    "She's all of eighteen, if she's a day."
    Reeve shrugged. "She's old enough to be on the marriage mart."
    "You've overstepped your bounds, Reeve. I'll suffer no more talk about Miss Marcie being anything more to me than just another passenger. I'll transport her to the inn at Burford, and there I shall leave her, mark my words. Is that clear?"
    "Clear as bells," said Reeve, tipping up his hat and then turning about to head for the hind boot and the bags of mail there. "Clear as bells ringing amidst a raging thunder storm, that is."
    Cole suppressed the very ungentlemanly urge to race after the guard and throttle him soundly. The fact that the carriage door popped open and both Nan and Miss Deirdre were departing the coach, managed to keep Cole's mind centered on the tasks at hand.
    He moved toward the door.
    Nan had already dropped down to the ground while Miss Deirdre, her long hair all atumble, stood poised in the doorway. She bestowed upon Cole a melting smile.
    "What a quaint little inn!" she exclaimed. "You really should have alerted us to our stop," she said. "Perhaps then I would have had time to fix my hair. As it is, I fear I am quite the worse for wear." She made a motion of