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Darkness brews behind him. He’s so friggen tall. As I look up at him, the crown of his head seems to graze the gray, clouded sky.
And he made me speechless.
I run a hand over my mouth, recalling how he’d called mejaded.“Stay the heck away from me. I’m telling the duke!”
Victor isn’t the sort to take credit for his actions. The Russian. Or, most recently, the guard who grabbed me, who I noticed has disappeared. Now, the others treat me like royal blood rushes through my veins. Nevertheless, the stranger laughs, marble green eyes aflame with interest. “Pray tell, Miss Luxury, when you say ‘duke,’ who are you referring to?”
“The Duke of Arlington!” I snap and wave my hand around as if this idiot should’ve caught the inference.
A fat drop of rain smacks me on the forehead. Then a sudden downpour drenches my scalding body. I quickly reach down for my diary, and it’s like déjà vu when Victor plucked up black roses before I could.
The man clasps the diary, placing it in the inner pocket of his jacket. With a wink, and a tone as smooth as satin, he says, “So, it doesn’t get ruined, Miss.”
“Give it . . . Whatever.”
I start to reach down for the blanket, but the basket goes tumbling away with the wind, and the picnic blanket joins it, soaring across the meadow.
Again, the man’s eyes caress every ample curve of my body as he disrobes from his jacket and hands it over. His white button-down is soaked through, rendering it transparent. It's clear the older man is in his prime.
“Allow me to escort you back toArlington,” he replies with a twinkle in his eyes.
The rain pummels my skin. Goosebumps line my skin, and my nipples draw rigid beneath my shirt. Prideful, I clasp my arms over me. “No, thank you. Just get away from me.”
What if he and Victor have done bad business together? I don’t know much about the duties of a duke, but the man has no respect for the female race.
He holds out the jacket. “I understand my word means nothing at the moment. Please allow me to escort you to Arlington. I promise no further harm.”
Stomach curdling, I take the awaiting jacket, offering the faintest murmur of appreciation. The meddling stranger helps me shrug into the finest silk lining. The warmth of his body and the pleasing scent of this stranger envelops me as I button up the jacket. Before I can object, the man takes my hand.
“Who are you?” I ask again.
“Scum compared totheroyal duke. Nonetheless, you will have no problems with me. I thought you were . . . someone else.” He guides me through the clearing of woods.
“No, you thought I was Victor’s whore. I assure you; I am not.” Beneath a downpour, I clutch the stranger’s hands as he guides us around a fallen branch. Almost thirty minutes later, the many spires of Victor’s estate are displayed ahead.
He stops and pushes back his hair, eyes searching mine. Apology weaves into his tone. “Well, Luxury, you know your way from here?”
I stop to sigh, bringing air into my aching lungs.
“Do you live nearby?” I ask, though we haven't passed any homes on the way. Besides, if he hadn’t been around, ages would’ve passed before I recognized the bends in the road and rolling green hills.
“Not really,” he replies, cool as a cucumber. His button-up is soaked through, molded to pure muscle, and the material strains against his massive forearm as he holds it out to a respectable length.If he were American, I could picture his previous life. A former golden boy from a small southern town where football players were above the law. Or a slimy politician.
I shrug an arm out of his jacket.
“Keep it to shield your book, candy lips.” A cocksure grin curves a seductive mouth.
With a frigid smile of appreciation, I remember Momma’s diary safe and dry inside the pocket and tug the jacket back on, embracing it tightly. “Look, if you want to wait out the storm inside, I’ll keep my mouth shut. But if you get handsy again, my man will murder you.”Like literally bang, bang.
“Hurry inside, gorgeous.”
He’s crazier than Vic.I turn and hurry over the grass. A hundred yards away, Victor’s passed through the towering doors. A closed umbrella falls from his hand. Sprinting, Victor reaches me at lightning speed and scoops me up in one fluid motion.
“Lux, I’m a fucking idiot. I searched and searched for a wine opener.” He laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. “Then a bloody pair of keys, the second I saw the downpour.”
Intense heat warms me through to the bone. I tremble against Victor from cold and a sharp concern for the stranger’s bad behavior.
“It’s okay,” My reassurance echoes across the walls as Victor sets me down in the foyer.
