Free Mary Jo Putney by Sometimes a Rogue

finished off his bread and egg, took a swig of tea, then handed the jug to Sarah. As he began saddling his horse, he continued, “If all goes well, I’ll have you back in Ralston Abbey in five days or so. That is, if you’re up to that much riding astride. I’d rather not hire a carriage.”
    She made a face. “I’m straining muscles I didn’t know I had, but I can manage.”
    “I’m asking a lot of you, so let me know if the strain becomes too great.” Rob saddled both horses, then packed his saddlebags. He had the efficiency of a man who spent a lot of time on the road.
    Sarah braided her hair while he packed, then tucked the braids under the floppy hat that was part of the outfit Rob had supplied. “Do I look suitably boyish?”
    His mouth quirked up. “I’m glad the clothes are too large. That helps disguise the fact that you aren’t at all boyish. When we’re near people, keep your head down so all they see is hat. Are you ready to leave?”
    Sarah nodded, but when Rob approached to help her onto her horse, she impulsively set her hands on his shoulders and said, “Thank you.” Then kissed him.
    He could have avoided her easily, but he didn’t. His mouth was surprisingly warm as he accepted and returned the kiss.
    She’d truly meant just to express her gratitude, but the desire that had drawn them together in the night flared back to life. Rob’s arms locked around her as he kissed with focused intensity, as if she were the only thing on earth that mattered.
    She was shocked by her own reaction. Though she’d always found him attractive, she hadn’t expected to feel such . . . such hunger. Such a desire to melt into a man and let the fire she’d sparked consume her.
    They were pressed full length together and his warm hands kneaded and caressed, sending waves of sensation rolling through her whole body. Then the horse beside them whickered nervously and sidestepped away.
    Abruptly Rob released her and stepped back, breathing hard. His expression was oddly vulnerable. “That was . . . delightful but unwise, Miss Clarke-Townsend.”
    She pressed her fingers to her lips, which pulsed with wanting. “I . . . I know. I won’t do it again.” She mustn’t add fuel to a fire that should be allowed to burn out.
    Rob’s face returned to its normal controlled calm. “You’ll be home in a few days and this will all just be a bad memory.”
    She gave him a crooked smile. “Not all bad.”
    “No. Not all bad,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure you’ll be glad to have hot tea and a warm bed and clean clothing.” He linked his fingers to help her mount.
    She stepped into his hand and swung into her saddle. Yes, she’d be glad to return to comfort and civilization. But she’d not forget sleeping rough with a Runner in a barn.
     
     
    A quarter mile or so along the hedgerow-bound road, they came to the drive that ambled up to the farmhouse. A hundred yards short of the building, Rob said, “Wait here while I return the basket. Try to think boyish thoughts.”
    “Which would be . . . ?”
    “Food and fighting,” he said before he dismounted, handed her the reins, and continued on foot to the house.
    The door opened quickly after he knocked and a tall, broad fellow accepted the basket with a stream of Irish words. Rob frowned and replied in Irish. Mr. Connolly glanced over at Sarah curiously. She tried to think boyish thoughts.
    The conversation continued for several minutes, with hand gestures. After a polite nod and farewell, Rob rejoined Sarah. As he mounted, he said tersely, “Just a few minutes ago, several men stopped by the house looking for a couple of English thieves known to be in this area. Mr. Connolly told them he’d seen no such persons.”
    “Do we risk running into those fellows ahead?” Sarah asked, alarmed.
    They reached the road and Rob turned left, the way they’d come rather than continuing in the same direction. “We should be all right. Connolly told me of a lane that