A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 145 - Hundred And Forty Five

In the morning, the bright, golden sunlight peeked softly through the thin curtains of the Boar’s Head Inn. The storm had finally passed, leaving the world outside washed clean and quiet.

Delaney snuggled closer to the source of the incredible, comforting heat beside her. She felt entirely safe, wrapped in a strong, heavy embrace. The terrible nightmares of the rain and the wrecked carriage were completely gone, chased away by the steady, rhythmic beating of a heart beneath her ear.

Slowly, with a soft sigh, she opened her hazel eyes.

The events of the stormy night rushed back into her mind. She blinked, her vision clearing in the morning light. She looked down and saw her and Rowan, completely tangled in the white linen sheets of the narrow bed.

His large, muscular arm was draped heavily over her waist, holding her securely against his chest. One of his long legs was thrown over hers. His face was buried deep in the crook of her neck, his warm breath tickling her sensitive skin with every slow exhale. They were pressed so closely together that she could not tell where she ended and he began.

Delaney gasped softly.

Her cheeks burned with a sudden, fiery blush.

She quickly moved away from him. Moving with careful, frantic speed, she lifted his heavy arm and slid out from under the thick quilt. She practically jumped off the mattress, her bare feet hitting the cold wooden floorboards. She scrambled toward the small washstand in the corner of the room and started preparing for the day, splashing cold water onto her burning face to calm her racing heart.

The sudden loss of warmth caused Rowan to stir.

He woke up slowly. He stretched his broad shoulders with a lazy, deeply satisfied groan, the muscles in his chest shifting beautifully in the morning light. He leaned up on his elbow, his blond hair messy and falling over his forehead. He watched her frantic, nervous movements by the washstand with a highly amused smirk on his face. He looked entirely too comfortable.

Rowan too woke up and went to prepare, but he was in no particular hurry.

"Good morning, Del," Rowan murmured, his voice thick, deep, and incredibly husky from sleep.

Delaney stiffened. She grabbed a small towel and dried her face, refusing to look at him.

"Good morning, Your Grace. We must hurry. The sun is already up, and we have a long journey ahead."

Rowan chuckled. It was a dark, teasing sound that sent a fresh wave of heat straight down her spine. He sat up on the edge of the bed, completely unbothered by his state.

He teased her about hiding herself. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"There is no need to be so shy, Miss Kingsley," Rowan drawled lazily, his eyes dancing with wicked mischief. "Why are you hiding your face from me? It seems rather pointless now, considering I have already seen and tasted all of you."

Delaney dropped the towel. Her face turned an even brighter shade of red, rivaling the color of a ripe strawberry. She spun around, her hazel eyes flashing with pure embarrassment and annoyance. He was impossible. He was a Duke, yet he spoke like a scandalous rogue.

Delaney pointed a shaking finger toward his chest.

"You are entirely shameless!" Delaney replied, her voice breathless. She grabbed her dark bonnet and jammed it onto her head. "If you do not prepare quickly, I will instruct the driver to leave without you, Your Grace. I will leave you stranded at this inn."

Rowan threw his head back and laughed aloud. He loved her fiery temper. He stood up and began to dress, fully aware that she would never actually leave him behind, but highly entertained by her threat nonetheless.

Minutes later, they had their breakfast and settled their bill with the smiling innkeeper. They got to the carriage and left the small village behind.

The journey resumed. The atmosphere inside the cabin was completely different from the day before. The playful teasing of the morning faded away as the carriage rolled further from London. They were getting closer to their destination, and the heavy reality of their mission settled over them both.

Rowan sat quietly, reviewing Carcel’s note in his hands, while Delaney stared out the window, preparing herself for whatever secrets they were about to uncover.

In a few hours, the landscape changed. The busy post-roads turned into quiet, narrow dirt lanes. The smell of the salty sea air drifted through the carriage windows.

They arrived at a humble home.

It was a small, simple stone cottage with a thatched roof, sitting entirely alone near the edge of a quiet coastal village. A low wooden fence surrounded a small, neatly kept garden filled with blooming flowers and green vegetables. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted to completely disappear from the world.

Rowan and Delaney stepped out of the carriage. The driver stayed up on the box, holding the reins of the tired horses.

As they walked through the small wooden gate, they met a young lady in the front yard. She was wearing a simple, faded brown cotton dress and a clean white apron. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She was watering her plants with a battered tin watering can, humming a quiet tune to herself.

She looked up as the tall, imposing gentleman and the well-dressed lady approached her small garden.

Rowan took off his hat and offered a polite, respectful bow.

"Good day, Miss," Rowan spoke, his voice deep, smooth, and entirely unthreatening.

The young lady wiped a stray drop of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked at Rowan’s expensive dark coat and Delaney’s fine traveling dress. People of their high station rarely ever visited this quiet part of the coast.

"Good day to you too, sir," the lady replied softly. She sounded nervous, her eyes darting between Rowan and Delaney.

Rowan took a step closer to the small flower beds, keeping a respectable distance so he would not frighten her.

"We are looking for Miss Flora," Rowan spoke clearly.

The young lady instantly stiffened. Her hands gripped the handle of the watering can a little tighter. The polite, welcoming expression vanished from her face. She looked highly skeptical, taking a slow, defensive step backward toward the front door of her cottage.

"I am Miss Flora," she answered cautiously.