He opened his mouth, fought a grin, and glanced to the ground. “A thousand apologies, miss.”
Lady, she corrected in her mind but held her tongue. “Thank you,” she replied in more of a retort, and started to march up the hill toward the manor house.
“Isn’t it customary to accept an apology when one is given?” His tone was challenging.
She paused halfway up the hill and turned to regard him. “When the lady is so inclined, yes,” she answered, then turned, a smirk on her lips at her own smart remark.
“And you don’t include yourself amongst the ranks of ladies?” he asked, his voice sounding much closer.
I’m more of one than you think.“When it suits me,” she replied instead.
A deep chuckle radiated from him, giving her body a rush of warmth even with the biting chill of her wet skirts. “I’m thankful you amuse yourself, my lord.” She stomped up the rest of the hill and started down the other side, her skirts sticking to her legs with each step.
“Wait,” he called out to her.
“I’d rather not. I’m not comfortable just now,” she remarked over her shoulder without breaking her stride. She made it to the gravel path beyond the hedgerows and noted the way her skirts dripped water upon the stones, leaving a trail. Drat; she wouldn’t be able to make it up to her room without making a mess. She stopped and glanced to the house, debating which entrance would be best to take.
A warm hand rested on her shoulder. She should have shrugged it off, but the warmth was irresistible. Settling for a glare, she turned to the owner of the hand.
“Come with me. It’s the least I can do,” he remarked, amusement still thick in his tone and apparent in his expressive eyes.
She shouldn’t notice.
But she was realizing that he was impossible to ignore.
She gave a small nod, and lamented the loss of heat when he removed his hand and started for a small entrance not far from where she stood. With his back to her, she took the liberty of studying the infuriating man before her.
The man whose benevolence she still needed.
For the moment.
Drat.
Yet her irritation melted into appreciation as she studied the broad length of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist down to a powerful stride.
Belatedly, she noted he didn’t wear a coat, just his shirtsleeves.
It wasn’t proper.
But she wasn’t exactly proper at the moment either. The improper attire did afford her a much clearer view of the gentleman’s form, and it was . . . intriguing. Angular yet rounded. She fleetingly wondered if he was as granite solid as he appeared.
“Here.” He opened the door, pulling her fairly scandalous thoughts from the forefront of her mind. If she hadn’t been so terribly cold, she was sure a blush would have given away her private musings.
She was no sooner through the door when she was shocked once more by the absurd gentleman. One moment she was walking on her shivering legs, the next she was holding the man’s neck to keep her balance while he carried her up the stairs.
“This, no.” She shook her head.
“Ach, wee-shet,” he muttered, grinning wolfishly. “Mrs. Keyes would tan my hide if I let you traipse about the house dripping all over.”
“I highly doubt that your housekeeper—”
“You don’t know her as I do. Trust me, I’m saving my hide here. And maybe yours too.” He gave her a wink.
While he carried her.
In his arms.
She’d never been carried before.
