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Water soaked her gloves and her skirts. When she scrabbled to get up, she ended up with her knees in said puddle. Apparently she had fallen in the deepest puddle in all of London. Blast her rotten luck.
As she came to her feet, a closed carriage pulled up in front of her. The door opened and Luke put his head out and offered her a hand, glancing briefly at the watchman on the opposite side of the street.
“Need a ride, Lady Cassandra?”
***
FROM CASSIE’S TORN gown to her mud-soaked gloves, there was no reason at all to find any of this remotely amusing. Or worse. Somewhat arousing.
She hesitated the briefest moment, flinging a glance at the man apparently pursuing her before snatching his hand and allowing him to haul her into the vehicle. He slammed the door shut and ordered the vehicle on with a tap to the roof.
Cassie tumbled onto the seat beside him and put her head in her hands.
“Care to explain?” he asked.
She twisted her head briefly sideways to view him. “No.”
Luke eased her hands away from her face and pressed a finger under her chin. Her muddied gloves left marks on her forehead and he drew out a handkerchief and rubbed the worst of it away then lifted her face toward the lit lamps to rub the speckles of dirt intermingling with her freckles.
When his finger brushed near the corner of her mouth, her lips parted, and he was certain he might very well have passed out for a brief moment as the blood rushed to his nether regions.
He fisted the handkerchief and thrust it into the pocket of his jacket.
“I was just—”
He held up a hand. “Let me guess? Getting some air?”
“Yes.” Her gaze remained lowered.
He smirked. Cassie did not do demure. Ever. So he really must have caught her doing something scandalous. That sharp jolt struck him deep in his gut, like a knife searing its way to the center of him. There were few things of which a young lady might be ashamed of doing and he could only think of one for the moment. It did not explain exactly why a watchman pursued her, however.
“Were you meeting a lover?”
Her gaze shot to his, the blue of her eyes dark in the confines of the carriage. “Of course not!”
“Well, I cannot fathom why else you would be sneaking out and getting yourself into such...” He gestured up and down her and regretted following his gesture with his gaze.
Her delicate white gown might be muddied but that did not detract from how it emphasized her delicate breasts with matching white trim or how the damp skirts clung to the outline of her legs. What made it worse was the tear in her gown that left a thigh exposed. He no longer had to imagine how long and slender her legs were. They were there for all to see.
Well, not forall. Just him. Him and him alone. Where no etiquette or sense of propriety could hinder his perusal of her.
He inhaled sharply. “You are an attractive woman and no doubt you are bored. I would not blame you—”
“Why must I be bored?”
He shrugged. “Are all rich young women not bored?”
“Oh I suppose I must need a man to feel satisfied.”
Luke groaned inwardly. He did not need to be seeing her legs—or leg—and thinking of satisfaction. He suspected the only way he would feel satisfied would be to go to bed as soon as he returned home and pictured those long legs straddling him. Assuming of course the other leg matched the revealed one which he suspected was a certain bet. His hand and his imagination would be a far cry from the reality, however.
“Cassie, you are filthy, your gown is torn, and you were running as though you had been caught doing something scandalous indeed. What else must I assume?”
“I am filthy and torn because I fell in a puddle and this wretched gown is far too delicate.” She bunched some of the fabric in a fist with a huff of annoyance and tossed it to one side.
He snapped his gaze upward when the movement revealed the shadows between her thighs. He’d never thought of shadows as enticing until now. Now he longed to drop to his knees, press into the darkness and see what else he could find.
With his mouth or his fingers, he wasn’t fussy.
