Free His Lady Midnight by Jo Ann Ferguson

eager kiss. How many other women had he teased with kisses that meant less than the bubbles in a glass of champagne? He was surprised that he could not recall the last one. Watching over his brother had kept him too busy for the past few months to enjoy a few escapades of his own.
    Hearing the echo of his brother’s laughter, Galen knew what Carr would say about this gallant effort to save Phoebe Brackenton. Carr would have given him a dressing-down for risking his life for a stranger. For a moment, Galen envied his brother’s focus only on himself.
    Galen stepped out of the carriage as soon as it came to a complete stop. Looking at the inn, he smiled. It was cleaner than where they had stayed last night, and the aromas coming from it did not threaten to create an upheaval in his stomach.
    Hearing a creak from the carriage, he said, “Alfred, despite all odds, we have made it this far.”
    â€œYes, my lord.” He jumped down from the box.
    â€œThanks to you, the carriage lasted until we reached Hamdenford. Will you be able to get it back to London to be repaired?”
    Alfred nodded his grizzled head. “I believe so, although I shall have to go even more slowly than we did today.”
    Galen chuckled. “I suspect you were much bothered this afternoon at the thought that the lad and his flock of sheep might pass us by.”
    â€œI was.”
    Slapping his coachee on the shoulder, Galen said, “I shall tell the innkeeper to make sure that you are served the best ale he has.”
    â€œThank you, my lord.” He hesitated, then glanced inside the carriage. “She is asleep, I see.”
    â€œAt last.”
    â€œOdd sort of lady, if you do not mind me saying so.”
    â€œNot as long as she does not hear you say so.” He laughed quietly.
    Alfred’s eyes grew wide. “My lord, I would never speak so in a lady’s hearing.” He faltered, then asked, “Do you wish me to help get her into the inn?”
    â€œShe weighs less than Carr. If I can lift him into the carriage when he is completely foxed, I can lift her out.”
    Alfred nodded. “I do not doubt that, my lord.” He walked back to check the horses.
    Galen watched his coachee for a long minute. Alfred thought Galen had lost every bit of sense he had ever possessed. The coachman could be correct. Leaving Town and his responsibilities on this madcap race to protect Phoebe had been the most absurd thing he had ever done, but he still could not see, even looking back at the events, how he would have done anything differently. He could not have handed her over to those men who were chasing her.
    He slipped his arms beneath Phoebe and gently lifted her from the carriage. Shifting her against him, he cursed under his breath as the toe of her shoe struck his knee even as his motion created a new cascade of pain from his accursed elbow. He shook his head when Alfred turned to ask him a question. Waking Phoebe now would create another flurry of questions that he was too tired to answer.
    Galen realized how exhausted Phoebe must be when she did not wake while he spoke to a round, dark-haired woman who greeted him at the door.
    â€œAh, the poor lamb is deep asleep,” cooed the woman who had introduced herself as Mrs. Chester, the innkeeper’s wife.
    He nodded.
    â€œCome this way,” Mrs. Chester said. “I have a lovely room that will be just perfect for you.”
    When Mrs. Chester opened the door, Galen gave her a quiet request for some food to be prepared for them and also to send out a mug of ale and a plate to Alfred. The innkeeper’s wife smiled so broadly that Galen had the suspicion she wanted to pinch him on the cheek as if he were a lad.
    He went into the room, taking care that neither Phoebe’s head nor her feet struck the door frame. The room was simple, the furniture spare. Candles burned on the small tables set beneath the window. He gave the chamber only a