Huzzah!
Something large and solid crashed into her before she could pull the heavy material aside and slip behind it. She tumbled to the ground, her dagger flying from her hands and bouncing on the rug.
The sneaky bastard had tackled her. Hannah’s arms and legs tangled with far more muscular limbs.
‘Who the devil are you?’ His gravelled voice sent unexpected shivers through her. Not fear, but something akin to it. The man gripped her around the waist, rolling with her so she landed underneath him. His body, harder than a tempered blade and bloody heavy, pressed against hers. An unfamiliar warmth bloomed low in her belly.
‘Bollocks!’ Hannah hissed before taking inspiration from the curse. She twisted, seeking space to ram her knee between his legs. Missing her mark, she hit him somewhere on his inner thigh.
The man grunted as he thwarted her second attempt to smash his bollocks by twisting his torso away and straddling her with his legs, pinning her pelvis to the ground with his own.
Hannah recognised his skills as a fighter too late. Before she could aim for his vulnerable parts – eyes, throat, belly – he shackled Hannah’s wrists in his large hands.
Pulling her arms over her head, he lifted his upper body away to see her.
Well, this is ridiculous. I’ll never live this down if the duchess finds out.
They were both breathing hard from their struggles, a taskmade imminently more difficult for Hannah by her corset. She was acutely aware of his body pressed against hers. While she should be pulling away, her body wanted to arch into his. Highly alarming.
The curtain had been pulled open in their struggles. A beam of moonlight illuminated his face. Thick curls fell over a wide forehead, and shadows didn’t hide the slight bend in the bridge of his nose. Hooded eyes narrowed in appraisal. Handsome was too gentle a term for such severe features in a face not easily forgotten.
Lieutenant General Robert Killian, Duke of Covington.
Bugger!
A decorated war hero and honoured guest of Lord Bradford’s dinner party, he was also a man she had been explicitly told to avoid.
Lieutenant General Killian was dangerous. To her and the mission.
‘You’re a woman!’ His voice registered shock, but he didn’t release her.
‘Last time I checked, yes.’ Hannah bit her lip. She probably shouldn’t have said that. To a duke, no less.
‘What in the devil is going on here?’ Lord Killian’s dark-green eyes looked almost black in the moonlight as recognition sharpened his gaze.
‘Good evening, Lieutenant General.’ Hannah tried for an innocent smile. After all, she hadn’t been caught doing anything specifically nefarious, merely found in the wrong place at an odd time. Men rarely suspected women of truly devious behaviour. The pontificating idiots didn’t think the fairer sex smart enough to be treacherous. Thank heavens she’d kept her fighting skills hidden. Hannah could act the innocent fool and dupe the duke.
She softened her voice to a breathless whimper. ‘Goodness, but you frightened me. Release me, Your Grace, and we can conduct this conversation from an erect position.’
Lord Killian’s jaw ticked as his lips hardened in a determined line.
For the second time in as many minutes, Hannah regretted her impetuous tongue. He was a duke accustomed to doing as he pleased, and they were alone in a rather compromising position. She didn’t need to go putting ideas into his head about the erectness of anything.
His deep voice rumbled through her like a caress, intimately soft. ‘You didn’t seem frightened while attempting to knee me right in the… what was the charming term you used? Ah yes, “bollocks”, I believe. You display some unusual abilities for a lady’s companion, Miss Simmons.’ He didn’t release her hands or attempt to stand.
Bloody hell! He knows my name.
Which meant he paid attention. To her. Not good.
I can fix this. I just need to remind him of my insignificance.
A simple smile would suffice as an acceptably diminutive response. But something about the man goaded her. ‘I only did what any woman would when attacked, Your Grace. Perhaps it is your behaviour that deserves censure, and not my own.’
‘Really?’ The duke leaned closer, inhaling sharply.
Dear God, is he sniffing me?
And why did that cause a flutter of excitement? Most irregular and completely unacceptable. Hannah ignored the strange rush of heat spreading from her belly along her limbs. ‘There is nothing unusual about me, I assure you. Now, if you would please get off…’
