Gentle Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page B

nose.”

    “Ye tried that, as I recall, wi’out much luck.”
    “You could humor me a little.” Georgina sighed. “I’ve been through a trying time.”
    Mac snorted. “Ye’ve been through worse wi’ yer own brothers.”
    “The sport of children, and years ago, I might point out,” she retorted.
    “Ye were chasing Boyd through the house just last winter wi’ murder in yer eye.”
    “ He’s still a child, and a terrible prankster.”
    “He’s older than yer Malcolm.”
    “That’s it!” Georgina marched off ahead of him, tossing over her shoulder, “You’re as bad as the lot of them, Ian MacDonell.”
    “Well, if ye’d wanted sympathy, girl, why did ye no’ say so?” he called after her before he gave in to the laughter he was holding back.

Chapter Five
    H endon was a rural village, seven miles northwest of London Town. The ride there on the two old nags Mac had rented for the day was a pleasant one, a grand concession for Georgina, who still despised everything English. The wooded countryside they rode through was lovely, with valleys and undulating hills offering splendid views, and many shady lanes with pink and white blossoms on hawthorn hedges, wild roses, honeysuckle, and bluebells by the wayside.
    Hendon itself was picturesque, with its cluster of cottages, a comparatively new manor house, even a large red brick almshouse. There was a small inn with too much activity in its yard, so Mac elected to avoid it in favor of the old ivy-covered church with its tall stone tower at the north end of the village, where he hoped they could find out where Malcolm’s cottage was.
    It had been a surprise to learn Malcolm wasn’t actually living in London. It had taken three long weeks to find that out, to finally locate Mr. Willcocks, Malcolm’s supposed chum, who turned out not to be a chum of his after all. But he had steered them in another direction, and at last they had some luck, or Mac did, in finding someone who actually knew where Malcolm was.
    While Mac spent half of each day working to earntheir passage money home and the other half searching for Malcolm, Georgina, by his insistence, had spent the three weeks since the night of the tavern fiasco cooped up in her room, reading and rereading the one book she had brought along for the ocean crossing, until she was so sick of it she’d tossed it out her window, hit one of the tavern’s clientele with it as he was leaving, and almost lost her room, the landlord had been so upset. It was the only excitement she’d had, mild as it was, and she’d been about ready to climb the walls, or toss something else out the window to see what would happen, when Mac returned last night with the news that Malcolm was living in Hendon.
    She’d be reunited with him today, within a matter of minutes. She was so excited now she could barely stand it. She had spent more time getting ready this morning than it had taken them to get here, more time actually than she ever had before, her appearance usually not a matter of particular importance to her. Her buttercup-yellow gown with its short, matching spencer, was the best of the outfits she had brought with her, and was only slightly mussed from the ride. Her thick brown curls were tucked securely under her silk bonnet, also yellow, the short wisps of hair across her brow and framing her cheeks the more becoming for being windblown. Her cheeks were blooming with color, her lips chewed a bright pink.
    She’d been turning heads all morning, perched so prettily on the old nag, intriguing gentlemen in passing carriages and the townsfolk in Hampstead, through which they’d ridden, but only Mac took notice. Georgina was too busy daydreaming, drawingforth her memories of Malcolm, pitifully few actually, but precious for all that.
    The day she’d met Malcolm Cameron, she had been dumped over the side of Warren’s ship when he’d had enough of her sisterly pestering, and six dockhands had jumped into the harbor to save