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He opened his mouth to reply, but she rushed forward and he stepped aside to let her pass. She’d just put her foot on the first stair when a loud crash and a bellow of warning sounded directly above.
She glanced up just as Kit lunged forward, shoving her back against the wall, flattening his body against hers. A huge wooden crate tumbled through the open hatchway and crashed down the stairs behind them with a terrifying splintering of wood, missing his shoulder by barely an inch.
Emma let out a strangled yelp.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you.” Kit’s deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She managed to nod, humiliatingly aware of the whole-body tingles his sudden closeness was producing. His arms had come up to bracket her head in an instinctively protective gesture and her face was squashed against his rock-hard chest. The incredible heat of his body burned through the layers of their clothes.
She told herself it was hard to breathe because she was finally wearing a corset again after weeks of going without—and not because she was in Kit’s arms.
When she finally managed to inhale, she got a lungful ofhim, an unexpectedly delicious scent of male skin and cedar-based cologne. Her head swam. He might be dressed like a ruffian, but he didn’t smell like one. He smelled clean and altogether too inviting.
Her cheek brushed his as she lifted her head. He pulled back—just a fraction—bringing those beautiful lips of his dangerously close to her own, and her stomach somersaulted again as he gazed down at her. The shouts and footsteps from above faded away. They were the only two people in the world.
“Thank you,” Emma managed breathlessly. “I think you just saved my life.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, as if anticipating a reward of the wickedest kind, and she sucked in a breath, more than willing to comply. She lifted her head in silent invitation, but to her intense disappointment he pushed away from the wall and stepped back, releasing her.
“Think nothing of it,” he growled.
Damn it.Her attraction for him had always been one-sided.
To cover her mortification she bustled over to inspect her plants, morbidly certain they’d been flattened by the wayward crate, but they were all still safe on the sill.
“All right below?” The concerned shout echoed down through the hatchway.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Horner,” Emma shouted back.
Suddenly keen to escape the confines of the cabin and Kit’s unnerving presence, she picked up the nearest orchid and thrust it toward him. He accepted it automatically, and she picked up one of her own, cradling the terracotta pot in front of her like a talisman to ward him off.
He glanced down at the tangle of roots and soil. “Looks dead.”
She clutched her own pot protectively to her chest. “It is no such thing. It’s an orchid in its dormant phase. It’s supposed to look like that.” She pointed at a small lumpy protrusion sprouting from one of the taller shoots. “There. You see those buds? In a week or so those will produce the most beautiful purple flowers you’ve ever seen.”
Kit shrugged and she reminded herself to stop looking at his shoulders. He was even broader than he had been, more muscular than most male members of theton. More muscular than anyone, really.
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Emma sent him her sternest look, the one she’d perfected through years of having men doubt her expertise. It was the same look she would give the learned gentlemen of the Botanical Society if they disagreed with her contention that these plants were a previously undocumented species.
Still, that was a problem for another day. She had to have a live, flowering plant to show them first. The thought prodded her into action.
“This way.” She gathered up a second pot, picked her way across the splintered ruins on the floor and ascended the stairs. Kit followed her without comment.
A smart black carriage was waiting for her on the dockside, as she’d requested, so she made her way down the gangplank and slid the plants onto the floor, between the seats. Kit deposited his own plant next to hers and she sent him what she hoped was a winning smile.
“Would you mind getting the other two orchids, please?”
“Not at all.”
He disappeared back up the gangplank and Emma bit her lip. She shouldn’t be asking him—Lord Ashford—to fetch and carry for her, but seeing him again after all this time had muddled her brain.
He’d always had this effect on her. She’d spent most of her life around men, from burly sailors to eager suitors, but never had one affected her as strongly as Kit Carlisle. He’d bewitched her, long ago, and the enchantment had never worn off.
She stepped up into the carriage, settled herself on the seat, and took a deep, calming breath. She’d hoped that three years away from him would have made her immune to his charms, but it seemed her attraction to him was as strong as ever. That was going to make the next phase of her plan more awkward, but there was nothing she could do about that. Her plants were her top priority; she would do whatever needed to be done and ignore her own embarrassing response to the man.
In truth, his appearance here, now, was incredibly convenient. She’d meant to call on him in Somerset—albeit at a time of her own choosing, when she would have had time to prepare. Still, she would seize this unexpected opportunity.
