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He wrapped his arms around her body, settling the reins in his hands as he urged the horse forward.
“What happened back there?” she asked. “Was anyone hurt?”
“At the carriage?”
She nodded, the black kerchief covering her head brushing against his chin.
“Your driver was shot. I left your footman with him. The three men that approached us were dealt with.”
Her head twisted to the side so she could look at him, her eyes wide. “Felix was shot? Is he…”
“He’ll look to survive it. It went through his arm, the best that I could tell.”
“And you left George with him—he wasn’t injured, was he?”
“That is your footman?”
She nodded. “Yes, the one I brought. George is quite good.”
Rune guffawed.
“What?” Leaning away, her head twisted even farther back toward to him.
“He wasn’t exactly helpful in that situation.”
“What—no—George is very helpful. He’s tall and is always about if I need to reach a book high in the library or I need something heavy carried. And he’s always very polite. And loyal.”
“And a coward.”
“No.”
“I can only report what I saw.” Rune met her glare. “He may be very gallant when plucking a tome from your dusty shelves, but when pistols were flashing, his hands were shaking. That is all I need to know of the man.”
Her back went ramrod straight and she leaned as far away from him as his arms around her would allow. She contorted her body until she was almost sideways on the horse, her blue eyes flashing fire as her eyebrows lifted impossibly high. “Pluck a tome from my dusty shelves? Just what exactly are you implying about my footman?”
Rune managed to hold the quirk of his mouth in a straight line. “Nothing, but it appears as though maybe Ishouldbe implying something? He is a handsome coward, I will give him that.”
She huffed, whipping around from him, her arms clasping hard over her ribcage.
Rune let the corners of his mouth quirk upward.
He hadn’t realized taking this journey with Lady Raplan might actually be entertaining. Put in a few hours of protecting one of the mighty elites and then he could finally reach his goal. That had been all that had been in his mind at Seahorn Castle when he’d volunteered to accompany Lady Raplan to the Isle of Wight.
But she was lively. Much more lively than he’d realized.
Not to mention rather breathtaking, with the warmth of her chestnut hair curling about her cheeks, her full lips that were far too enticing, and those blue eyes that were like the deepest seas in one breath, and an iceberg in the next.
She was not one to stay still—happily helping to push the carriage out of the muck of the road earlier in the day—and that made her more intriguing than most ladies of her station.
But she was still the enemy. He had to remember that.
Never mind that for a woman he was destined to dislike, her body long against the front of his was oddly comforting. Even considering how hard her back was at the moment—her spine steel straight and the spikes of her shoulder blades jutting into his chest. He’d suitably miffed her and it had been far too easy to do. At least it had taken her glares off of him.
She was intriguing. Lively. Beautiful.
And none of that would do.
He had a very set purpose for going along on this ill-advised mission to return the Box of Draupnir to its origins, and being diverted by the backside of this lady—a dowager countess—would be disastrous.
