D2D_Poison or Protect by Gail Carriger Page A

the terrain, so she needed to reach farther up to get at something unsoiled.
    Triumphant, Preshea produced a length of fine muslin, beautifully embroidered. The chemise she’d just casually destroyed cost more than his favorite boots.
    “Would rather enjoy you in your best underpinnings than have you rip them apart for a mere scratch.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” She began wrapping his arm, efficiently but with unexpected solicitude.
    “It is a mere scratch !”
    “I know that. What’s ridiculous is the idea that I should be wearing my best underpinnings when riding!”
    “Nay?”
    “Certainly not.”
    “You’ve finer than this?” He fingered the end of the bandage where it now dangled. She’d done an excellent job with the dressing, although she’d tied the tails into a bow.
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you take me for, an amateur?”
    She was so close.
    “Of course na – silly me.”
    His arm now smelled of peaches, her scent on his bandage. “I canna ken how you smell so delicious.”
    “Delicious? What are you, a werewolf?”
    “Preshea?”
    She looked up from his injury at last.
    Blue, her eyes are blue. The deepest, darkest blue Gavin had ever seen .
    “I’m thinking that a kiss would make it better.” Gavin felt his request was greatly daring – her gun was still within reach. He’d wager she didn’t miss at close range.
    “Thinking that, are ye?” She imitated his brogue and didn’t reach for her gun.
    “Fair certain.”
    “Well, if it’ll help.” She suited her actions to her words with a quick, sure kiss.
    He let her try to make it brief, but then opened to her, waiting to see if she would take the bait. Vulnerability, retreat – is she hunter enough to chase? Aye, she is that. There came her tongue, only the tip, tentative. Then he felt a little sigh against his lips – the puff of acceptance.
    Their kiss paused naturally, at the place where it could have gone further. He might have relaxed back against the earth, which he now realized was cold and damp. He might have caressed one stocking-covered leg. He might have coaxed her to lie atop him, kiss him more deeply.
    Her eyes said she might have agreed.
    But they heard shouting and the sound of horses galloping in their direction.
    Preshea reached for her revolver, licking one finger to spit-test the heat of the barrel. Finding it cool enough, she flipped down one of her petticoats (Gavin was mighty disappointed) and stashed the gun away somewhere uncouth. Brushing down the rest of her riding habit, she stood and offered him a dainty hand.
    He took it but didn’t use it to rise. He didn’t need it and likely would have overbalanced her with his weight, the laws of physics being what they were. He took her hand so he might stroke the back with one thumb. So he might feel how strong it was.
    To his surprise, she smiled, gave his fingers a squeeze, and then let him go.
    “We should return to the duke. I have a feeling he might require an explanation.”
    * * *
    Everyone who could had come to rescue them. Those cantering the fields heard the gunshots and raced back, except Jack. Lady Blingchester reported, snidely, that the foolish lad had fallen shortly after the party split, and returned to the house.
    Miss Pagril and Lord Lionel also did not return. One assumed she had allowed her horse its head and they were already home. Gavin didn’t fret, for she was a fine rider.
    The duke’s mount was gone and he was grumpy about it.
    “He’ll return to the stables,” Preshea consoled him. “I shouldn’t worry. If not, we’ll send out a search party of groomsmen. Meanwhile, you take my mount and I’ll ride double with Captain Ruthven.”
    “Are you mad?” objected Lady Blingchester. “That’s most unseemly!”
    Preshea said, without inflection, “In case you hadn’t noticed, we are short a horse and the captain is injured. Someone must keep him in the saddle. What if he becomes dizzy from blood loss? Since I