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He wanted to shouthuzzah!and raise his cup to her.
As a young boy, he’d believed that all girls could jump as high, run as fast, outsmart, out-maneuver, and generally best any boy they met.
He’d grown up knowing that girls were the equals, if not the superiors, of boys.
Then he’d gone off to the secret spy training school, were girls were excluded, and they’d tried to make him believe that he was superior because of the thing dangling between his legs, but he hadn’t bought what they were selling.
Indy had ruined him for that notion since birth.
He wanted to say these things aloud.
What he said was: “You’ve always had your head in the clouds, Indy.”
“And you weren’t always such a horse’s arse, Ravenwood.”
She opened her book and pretended to read but he could tell she was fuming.
He didn’t want her to hate him but he must maintain a safe distance. A gulf of animosity and mistrust. Otherwise he might be tempted to tell her how amazing he thought she was. Or how much he believed in what she was trying to do.
He had to be content with doing whatever he could behind the scenes to make sure she achieved her goals. Several times he’d intervened on her behalf during her archaeological expeditions, remaining anonymous, of course.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
“My Lady Spy, by Mrs. Edgecombe.” She held up the cover for him to see. “Spy novels are quite popular now since the Napoleonic wars. I thought this might prove useful for our expedition. Have you read any spy novels?”
I live them.This was a treacherous topic. “Can’t say I have. I think I’ll try and sleep now. You should as well.” He turned away from her, balling his greatcoat into a pillow, and stretched out on the bench.
Spy novels were off-limits.
So was speaking his true feelings. Not that he had feelings. Brick wall. Blunt instrument.
He truly had assumed she’d bring a chaperone. He should have known Indy never did anything the conventional way.
This journey would be over soon. Recover the stone. See that no harm came to Indy.
Try to ignore how beautiful she looked in the gathering dark, how her lips turned the color of wine.
How he wanted so badly to taste her again.
Chapter 10
Indy shivered as he touched the base of her neck, his fingers following the bone-knots of her spine down her back.
She wore only a thin shift and it was pooled around her waist, her breasts bared for him in the cold air.
He was seated behind her.
Was he naked as well? She turned her head to see.
His white shirt hung open and he wore a kilt.A kilt?A tartan woven from reds and blues.
And his hair was... she snuck another glance. His hair was long. Grown past his shoulders, long and thick and tangled. My, it had grown so fast.
She shivered with desire.
“Are you wearing anything underneath that kilt?” she asked.
“Not a stitch, lass,” he whispered in her ear in a thick Scottish brogue. He lifted the hem of his kilt and she quickly averted her gaze.
