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So what? I owned a pillow factory!
And they could take a leaf out of her book. Or from her lips. Or…
No! Mine! All mine!
‘My little ifrit!’ The words were out of my mouth before I could hold them back. But…did I even want to?
‘You should take your own good advice,’ she shot back at me. ‘Shut up and kiss me!’
And for once I did what I had never ever done before. I did what I was told. Sliding my arms around her, I pulled her against me, hard, and kissed her. Kissed her for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Time. It suddenly seemed like such an insignificant little concept now that she was safe. Here. With me.
What happened to getting her off my horse?
She happened.
‘Thank you,’ her whisper drifted to my ears. ‘Thank you for coming for me.’
A tug. Painful. Deep in my chest.
Just a pulled muscle. That’s all. A pulled muscle.
Statistically speaking, it did seem remarkable, however, that those pulled muscles always seemed to appear whenever I was in the vicinity of Miss Lillian Linton. A statistic worthy of investigation.
‘I had no intentions of finding a new secretary,’ I told her. ‘Do you know what vacancy advertisements cost these days?’
Her face slowly rose from where it lay against my chest and I felt a sudden impulse to clutch her back against me.
Mine!
Then our eyes met, and I saw what I had been hoping to see. Whatever had happened, whatever Dalgliesh had done to her, it hadn’t broken her. It hadn’t even bent her. I saw fire in her eyes, burning more brightly than ever before.
Nonsense! Eyes cannot burn! It is a physical impossibility!
Except perhaps with her.
Her chin rose. ‘Let’s get out of here!’
It sounded suspiciously like an order. And for some inane reason, right then and there, I didn’t mind.
‘Agreed.’
Not wasting another millisecond, I pulled myself fully up into the saddle behind her. Very close behind her. A little gasp escaped her lips, and I felt my body stiffen in response.
Concentrate. Ride.
On second thought, thinking about riding might not be the best idea right now.
The horse. Just ride the horse.
Not listening to my head, my arm snaked around her, pulling her roughly against me. Her ears heated approximately three point five degrees, turning an intriguing shade of red. Was it because of me, or…
I glanced around.
My men were back from their scouting mission. They were gathered all around. Looking. At me. At me and her.
‘Miss Linton,’ I spoke, my voice at zero temperature, ‘is a gently bred lady of good family and impeccable reputation. She would never do anything so rash as to kiss a man in public. If anyone were to suggest differently, I would be…displeased. Do we understand each other?’
Heads nodded like mechanical marionettes.
