She looked at him, taking in his open expression. She was still hurt by his walking away, his hot-and-cold behavior, and the way he seemed to want her and not want her at the same time.
Nevertheless, she had to admit she liked him now, in this moment, more than she had since she had discovered he wasn’t Mr. Overton. (Of course, last night, she had liked him quite a bit—but that, she told herself, hardly counted. She had been under the spell of his cunning tongue and cock). And he had, after all, just come to rescue her from two of the dirtiest men she had personally ever laid eyes on.
Not to mention, she wasn’t exactly in the position to be turning down friends.
“Fine.” She held up her finger to indicate that she had a condition. “As long as youpromisenot to kiss me.”
Chapter Twelve
John agreed toher demand with a curt nod.
After checking to make sure that the tall highwayman was breathing (he was, indeed, still among the mortal), John offered Catherine his arm. They walked back to their carriage, where Marcel was waiting for them.
“Everything all right, Your Grace?” Marcel said. Catherine could see the concern in his eyes.
“More than all right, Marcel,” John said, his smile making Catherine a bit weak in the knees—and pelvic region. Not an ideal reaction to a friend, she thought, but she could work on it.
“I wish you had let me attend you, Your Grace. Those men looked like right hardened criminals.”
Catherine realized that Marcel had a direct line of sight to the cottages. He must have been the one who warned John about the men, because John himself wouldn’t have been able to see them from inside the carriage. Then, it also occurred to her that Marcel must have seen their kiss—and the rather heated discussion that followed. She felt her face heat with embarrassment. She hoped that at least their voices didn’t carry this far.
“Then you must have seen that we scattered them pretty quickly,” John said. “I couldn’t endanger my best coachman over such a trifle. As the duke, I am significantly more useless. If I sustain an injury, our journey can continue uninterrupted.”
“I would not say that, Your Grace,” Marcel said but Catherine could tell he was pleased with John’s flattery.
“Thank you, Marcel,” Catherine said. “You must have been the one to warn John about the men. I am indebted to you.”
“It was nothing, my lady,” Marcel said, turning a pale shade of burgundy. “I would have liked to come to your aid myself but His Grace ordered me to stay at the carriage.”
She smiled again at Marcel and, this time, the coachman managed to return the same back.
When they were once more in the coach, John growled, “I am making it a condition of our friendship that you don’t flirt with my coachman.”
“Flirt! Are you mad? The man saved my life.”
“I believeIsaved your life.” He scowled.
“Right before I savedyour life.”
He grinned.
“You are unexpectedly skilled at wielding a spade. You should have mentioned it during our negotiations. A talent like that is worth at least another thousand pounds.”
She rolled her eyes, but she also knew she wasn’t succeeding at keeping the warmth from her cheeks. She was flattered. And not a little proud. She had felled the man, although she was very glad that she hadn’t killed him. The prospect ofdeathhad not even occurred to her until John had leaned down to check his breathing.
“My point is that you were sulking in the carriage before Marcel apprised you of the situation.”
“Sulking.Youtoldme to wait! I hardly could have guessed that the cottages had been abandoned and infiltrated by criminals.”
“You could not have predicted that. That was no one’s fault. Except perhaps mine, for insisting that we not stop in the village to ask for directions. My only point is that I wasn’t flirting with Marcel.”
“I have known my coachman for three years and I have never seen him turn quite that shade of magenta.”
“For a friend, you’re quite jealous, you know.”
“Not jealous. Possessive, maybe.”
She laughed and then swore internally. She was despicable. She was halfway towards swooning.
