Set in 1800's English countryside. A stable boy finally succumbs to his lust for the spirited young lady of the home he serves during a trip to meet her betrothed, a man whose wealth would save her financially unstable family. (modern language.)
*****
Evie shoved the threadbare curtains away from the window of her small stagecoach. Her heart rate quickened as she noted heavy clouds on the horizon. She pounded on the wall between her and the drivers box and called out, unbridled.
"Jackson! A storm!"
Receiving no reply, she slid the window open and leaned almost entirely out, despite the jostling of the coach. She peered inquisitively at the young man who held the reins.
"Jackson. A. Storm." She pressed.
The driver glanced back at her quickly. Struggling to puff his dark curls out of his eyes, he replied.
"Yes, I am aware, Lady Evelyn. It looks like it rained here yesterday, as well." He spoke gruffly, and he kept his eyes trained straight ahead. "There's a lot of mud on the road. We may have problems up ahead."
At this, Evie's grin stretched to her ears. The 18 year old was in no desire to arrive at her future husband's doorstep anytime soon - it was rumored that he was a very stoic, unpleasant old man. But he was quite wealthy, whereas her own family was quickly falling apart. And he had sent for
her
hand
,
without ever having truly spoken to her. Evie had apparently seen him once, at some party. Apparently he had found her beautiful. Whatever. She couldn't even remember this meeting, herself, and she certainly didn't feel the desire to lose her freedom anytime soon, not for any man.
As she slouched back into the coach, her mind wandered over to someone much closer. A thin wall separated her back from that of Jackson, the family's stable boy. He had agreed to drive her, even while she had no living female relative to chaperone this visit, and her father and brother were out of the country on business. It'd be unheard of in the city. But here, where no one would know besides, Evie had insisted that she could be her
own
chaperone. Jackson had seemed upset, but he stayed quiet, even now. But Evie knew. She'd lived with mostly men for most of her life- she recognized that look of protective, almost possessive indignation. It hadn't left Jackson's face since they'd started their trip the day before.
She crossed her arms and dug deeper into her seat.
He's such a whiner.
Outside, Jackson was struggling to hold it together. He knew he'd been rude to Evie, but the sight of her leaning out that window, so unladylike with her auburn hair whipping freely in the electric wind of the coming storm, her pert breasts pushed up against the window's edge, her expression careless and joyful...it had struck him. He'd known her for four years now, and since the moment he'd met the defiant "lady" of the house, the only female left of a once great family, he had struggled to keep himself from seeing her the way he did. She badgered him with her bright, angry beauty- so unusual compared to the other tight-corseted ladies of her class. So much more like the girls he grew up with, and yet he felt for her like he'd never felt for any other.
And here he was, literally delivering her into the arms of another man. His knuckles turned white around the reins.
