Be Mine - Thomas Sharpe X Reader (Erotica)

Moment Of Madness

Our journey to the tavern does not go as smoothly as anticipated.

The carriage is traveling at some speed, as Lady Lucille urges the driver to hurry. She's tired and obviously in a foul mood, no doubt as a result of the altercation that took place back at Aldermont.

Just as we are nearing town, we hit a hole in the road. I feel the bump, and there's a cracking noise which sounds suspiciously like splintering wood, and the carriage lurches precariously to one side.

The horses respond with startled neighing, protesting against having to pull the off-balance equipage, and our pace dramatically slows to a crawl.

Sir Thomas manoeuvres himself toward the window, and I try not to notice the way his knees accidentally brush my own. The simple contact sends a peculiar wave of warmth throughout my entire body, which makes me shiver, in spite of the heat it creates.

He turns and apologises absently, then returns his attention to the task of lowering the window.

"What appears to be the problem, Marsden?" He calls out.

"Broken wheel, your Grace. We're goin' to have to stop. We'll never make it to the inn like this."

Sir Thomas hums understandingly, and looks deeply troubled. "Are the horses unharmed?"

"The horses? Are they your sole concern?" His sister snaps unkindly.

"No of course not." Sir Thomas soothes placatingly. "Do try not to agitate yourself. These things happen."

"On these roads perhaps. This evening has been disastrous. If you hadn't intervened so foolishly--"

"I will not be blamed for this accident, Lucille. Perhaps if you hadn't insisted on travelling at such great speed this might've been avoidable. We ought to consider ourselves fortunate no real harm has been done." He points out calmly.

The carriage is limped to the side of the road and as soon as it draws to a stop, Sir Thomas leaps out, and offers a hand to Lucille. Once she's stepped down, he proffers his long, elegant hand to me and I take it shakily.

"You're trembling. Are you cold?" He asks quizzically. "Or are you shaken?"

I smile nervously and shake my head. For some reason wanting him to know that I'm made of much sterner stuff than that. But I can't exactly admit that it's his touch that is having the quivering effect on me.

"No Sir, it'll take more than a mere broken wheel to ruffle my feathers."

His eyes hold mine and his beautiful mouth curves into an amused smile. "Quite. No doubt having to endure harassment at the hands of Major Handbrooke and his debauched son has steeled your nerves."

"Thomas!" His sister hisses, and with great effort he tears his gaze from mine to look at her. "If you have quite finished engaging in inane chit-chat, what do you propose we do about our predicament?"

A quick conversation ensues with the coachmen, regarding what's to be done.
Marsden suggests we wait, offering to walk into the town to seek assistance and fetch another vehicle. But Sir Thomas won't hear of it. Flatly refusing to put the older man to so much trouble.

"You're already suffering with a cold, Marsden." He tells him matter of factly with a wry smile. "If you develop an inflammation of the lungs as a result of having to trudge back and forth on our behalf, I'd feel responsible. I don't want that on my conscience."

Marsden protests gallantly, but as he blows his nose into a handkerchief and dissolves into a fit of coughing, it seems the matter is decided.

We are all to walk the remainder of the way.