The devil snatched it right out of the air. “Ah... I see.” He nodded, holding the apple up to the light and appearing to examine it. “You are in love with him.”
“Yes!” she lied.
He lowered his gaze slowly, which was just as annoying as everything else he did, then he gave her a long penetrating look that said he didn’t believe her.
She raised her chin a notch. “Madly in love. Madly. Absolutely. I think of him night and day. He’s my life. My future. My...” She waved a hand around. “John Cabot is everything I could ever want in a husband.”
He tossed the apple like a ball, then polished it on his shirtfront, ignoring her. He took a bite and chewed obnoxiously, then swallowed. He just stood there eating the apple as if he were waiting for her to throw another one and knew she would miss him by a mile.
After a tense few seconds, he said, “You want to know what I think, George?”
“No, but I’m certain you’ll tell me.”
He grinned. “Perhaps not.”
She grabbed another apple and stood there just like he did, trying to give him the same look of nonchalance he gave her.
“I think you don’t need to pull down your bodice to attract a man.”
She stood there, realizing what he just said and what he had seen in the dark of the garden. She wished the floor would just open up and swallow her.
“Now, I have to admit it was quite a sight...” He gave her a slow hot smile. “And still is, but I had already decided I wanted you before you pulled your dress down almost to your waist.”
I will not let him goad me. I will not, she thought, resisting the urge to yank her dress neckline up around her throat, which she was certain was flushed as red as her flaming face felt.
The seconds slowly dragged by. After a minute or so she looked at the apple, taking her own turn at drawing out the time before she said, “So that’s what you think?”
He crossed his arms, daring her to throw again. “Aye. That’s what I think.”
“Well then.” She tossed the apple lightly in the air, as if she were gauging its weight. She studied his head for another exaggerated moment, then gave him her sweetest smile. “I guess I’ll have to throw the next one right where you think.”
He laughed. “You couldn’t hit my head if I stood still as a stone, George.” He crossed those hammy arms of his again.
A second later the apple hit him right between the legs.
“I didn’t say anything about your head.”
He bent double and shouted five truly vile curses all in one incredibly inventive sentence.
She raced for the door.
Just as she reached for the handle, the door burst open and slammed against a wall.
Amy Emerson stood in the doorway, wrapped in a red plaid blanket and brandishing a shiny pistol. She looked at Georgina in surprise, then her gaze shot to where the lummox was doubled over.
“Here!” She pulled her other hand from the blanket and handed Georgina a thick coil of braided drapery cord. “Tie him up!”
He straightened and stood gaping at them, then his eyes narrowed. He was no longer amused. “Where’s Calum?”
“Your brother?” Amy waved the pistol as if he’d asked a foolish question. “Don’t worry. There’s only a little blood.”
“Blood?” His voice was lethal and he took a step.
Amy used two hands to raise the gun and aim it straight at him. “Don’t take another step.”
He froze, his now hardened gaze flicked from the gun to her face, then back to the gun, which was pointed at his chest.
“Your brother only has a small cut.”
