“Shall we?”
She gaped at the sheer beauty of the first genuine grin he’d given her since she’d arrived at Tarrington Castle. Pushing away a loose strand of hair away from her eyes, she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, her gaze locked with his.
With the moonlight caressing his face, he smiled in true warmth. Perhaps he’d overcome his anger and she’d finally gained a measure of forgiveness. Her fears took a step back and she allowed herself one luxurious moment to admire him. Christian was so handsome and masculine with his head proudly held, his shoulders squared, and an aura of power and presence surrounding him, that he transformed into a knight of old, wielding his sword in defense of her honor and making vows of chivalry. She’d never find a more honorable gentleman or a more blatantly desirable man. Or anyone more forbidden.
Dragging her eyes away from his, she took a step and winced as pain shot up her foot.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My foot ... I lost one of my shoes.”
He chuckled softly. “Very well, Cinderella, I suppose I must carry you. We’ll have to look elsewhere for a glass slipper, though.” Without waiting for her permission, he scooped her up into his arms.
She waited for the rakish glint to enter his eyes, or a lewd comment to fall from his well-formed lips, but neither happened. No, he hadn’t changed so much, after all.
With their mouths only inches away, his grin gradually faded as his lashes lowered, concealing his eyes, but the heat of his focus seared her lips. Her heart stalled and then tripped over itself. His lips parted slightly. Dread and excitement rippled over her. The force of his gaze held her captive.
She braced for his kiss, terrified, excited, confused. She relived the gentle sensuality of his kiss a year ago, the way his lips brushed against hers so gently, then hungrily, and later how they’d slanted over her mouth, possessing, claiming ....
Instead of moving closer, he went still. A breathless moment passed. Christian drew a shaking breath, turned his head forward, and began walking.
Shame rippled through her all over again. Christian was an honorable gentleman. He would never seduce a married woman. Twin rivers of relief and disappointment poured into a confusing pool of emotions. Pushing back the knowledge that she would soon leave and never see him again, she reveled in the temporary bliss of being in Christian’s arms, and rested her head against his shoulder.
Lanterns bobbed in the darkness like fireflies. “Mr. Amesbury!”
“I’m here, lads!” he called.
A chorus of voices arose as a search party surrounded them. None of the men showed any surprise that their lord’s brother carried what was probably a very bedraggled-looking woman out of the darkness, nor were there any looks of surprise at her compromised position or his state of dishabille . Christian acted as if nothing unusual were happening. Perhaps he carried stray women home all the time. He certainly seemed to be making a habit of it where she was concerned. It was a credit to the gentleman in him to save even the woman who’d rejected him.
She remained silent in the presence of so many strange men, and rested her head against her white knight while they all tromped through the brambles and heather.
Christian addressed a man nearest him. “Flemming, please send someone to come back in the morning and look for my coat. I appear to have lost it along the way.”
“Yessir,” the man replied amiably.
“Sorry,” she whispered in Christian’s ear.
“I’ll send you a bill,” he murmured lightly, his mouth curved into an easy smile.
As they reached the formal gardens and followed the gravel pathways toward the house, something wet and sticky tickled her cold bare foot. She rubbed it with her other foot, smearing dark liquid across the top of her shoe. She’d only had one pair of shoes, thanks to the charity of a maid, and now she’d lost one and ruined the
She gaped at the sheer beauty of the first genuine grin he’d given her since she’d arrived at Tarrington Castle. Pushing away a loose strand of hair away from her eyes, she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, her gaze locked with his.
With the moonlight caressing his face, he smiled in true warmth. Perhaps he’d overcome his anger and she’d finally gained a measure of forgiveness. Her fears took a step back and she allowed herself one luxurious moment to admire him. Christian was so handsome and masculine with his head proudly held, his shoulders squared, and an aura of power and presence surrounding him, that he transformed into a knight of old, wielding his sword in defense of her honor and making vows of chivalry. She’d never find a more honorable gentleman or a more blatantly desirable man. Or anyone more forbidden.
Dragging her eyes away from his, she took a step and winced as pain shot up her foot.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My foot ... I lost one of my shoes.”
He chuckled softly. “Very well, Cinderella, I suppose I must carry you. We’ll have to look elsewhere for a glass slipper, though.” Without waiting for her permission, he scooped her up into his arms.
She waited for the rakish glint to enter his eyes, or a lewd comment to fall from his well-formed lips, but neither happened. No, he hadn’t changed so much, after all.
With their mouths only inches away, his grin gradually faded as his lashes lowered, concealing his eyes, but the heat of his focus seared her lips. Her heart stalled and then tripped over itself. His lips parted slightly. Dread and excitement rippled over her. The force of his gaze held her captive.
She braced for his kiss, terrified, excited, confused. She relived the gentle sensuality of his kiss a year ago, the way his lips brushed against hers so gently, then hungrily, and later how they’d slanted over her mouth, possessing, claiming ....
Instead of moving closer, he went still. A breathless moment passed. Christian drew a shaking breath, turned his head forward, and began walking.
Shame rippled through her all over again. Christian was an honorable gentleman. He would never seduce a married woman. Twin rivers of relief and disappointment poured into a confusing pool of emotions. Pushing back the knowledge that she would soon leave and never see him again, she reveled in the temporary bliss of being in Christian’s arms, and rested her head against his shoulder.
Lanterns bobbed in the darkness like fireflies. “Mr. Amesbury!”
“I’m here, lads!” he called.
A chorus of voices arose as a search party surrounded them. None of the men showed any surprise that their lord’s brother carried what was probably a very bedraggled-looking woman out of the darkness, nor were there any looks of surprise at her compromised position or his state of dishabille . Christian acted as if nothing unusual were happening. Perhaps he carried stray women home all the time. He certainly seemed to be making a habit of it where she was concerned. It was a credit to the gentleman in him to save even the woman who’d rejected him.
She remained silent in the presence of so many strange men, and rested her head against her white knight while they all tromped through the brambles and heather.
Christian addressed a man nearest him. “Flemming, please send someone to come back in the morning and look for my coat. I appear to have lost it along the way.”
“Yessir,” the man replied amiably.
“Sorry,” she whispered in Christian’s ear.
“I’ll send you a bill,” he murmured lightly, his mouth curved into an easy smile.
As they reached the formal gardens and followed the gravel pathways toward the house, something wet and sticky tickled her cold bare foot. She rubbed it with her other foot, smearing dark liquid across the top of her shoe. She’d only had one pair of shoes, thanks to the charity of a maid, and now she’d lost one and ruined the
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