“You didn’tthinkthat far?” The scoundrel standing before her scrubbed a hand down his face again, groaning this time. She watched him warily as he paced to the side of the road and back again and then tipped his head back and stared up at the sky. “Although I’m pleased you’ve come to your senses, you’re lucky I’m not throttling you right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” But the look he was giving her indicated that he very well could. And that he was more than tempted.
Tabetha stepped back, not realizing how tightly she was holding Archie until the cat squirmed as though preparing to escape.
“Don’t push me,” Mr. Spencer growled. And then, still glowering, he glanced in the direction she’d just come from and then back at her and exhaled loudly. “I suppose we ought to informHis Graceof your change of heart. I don’t imagine he’ll be happy about it.”
She winced. But of course, she couldn’t just leave the duke in Gretna Green without telling him where she was going—without providing him with some sort of explanation. Although it would be much easier if she could do just that.
Pursing her lips into a petulant pout, she dipped her chin and looked up at her rescuer from beneath her lashes. “Will you tell him for me?”
He was laughing almost before she finished asking the question. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’ll tell him yourself. Besides, he’ll be wanting Archimedes back.”
“How do you know his name?”
“That hairless abomination is all the man spoke of last week at White’s. Last I heard, the damn thing was raised from the dead after being unearthed from a secret tomb in Egypt, and the new owner would experience immortality.”
“Archie is nothing more than a harmless cat.” She tipped her head down and rubbed her chin along his surprisingly soft, wrinkled skin. “And he likes me. Even though I told him not to follow me.”
“He minds about as well as you do.” But he held out a hand. “Come on then.” He jerked his head toward the horse.
“I can walk.” She’d come this far on her own. “Besides, I can’t sit astride wearing a gown.”
By the look on his face, she ought to have been prepared for his next move.
He bent forward, wedged his shoulder against her abdomen, and rose, one arm around her thighs, so she was dangling inverted, clutching Archie precariously, as he carried her to his horse. Before she could think of any insults to heap in protest, he managed to have both of them seated atop the ungainly but rather large mare.
“Why are you such a brute?” But her question was a rhetorical one. In order to keep herself and Archie from tipping backward and falling off the opposite side, Tabetha was forced to slide one arm up and around his neck.
“Not all of us can be dukes,” he bit out.
She averted her face when his gaze burned into hers, far too close for comfort.
She was utterly helpless, sitting sideways in front of him.
Mr. Spencer urged the horse forward and growled, “I’m thirsty as hell, hungry, tired, and haven’t washed in four days.” The horse obeyed him perfectly, walking slowly in the direction of the blacksmith’s. “The last thing I’m willing to do right now is stand in the middle of the road arguing with you.”
She inhaled once, and then a second time, more deeply. How was it that unwashed even, this man’s aroma didn’t put her off as Culpepper’s had begun to?
She was angry with Mr. Spencer for manhandling her, but she was also finding it difficult to breathe, what with her entire person essentially surrounded by his… maleness. She leaned closer and took a stronger whiff, reluctantly savoring his scent. It was earthy, spicy, like leather, wood, and musky male rolled into something that by all rights, should be unpleasant at best. Rather than be repelled by it, she wanted to memorize it so she could summon it again when she was alone.
Ridiculous!
His arms wrapped around her to hold the reins. Unwilling to stare at his profile, she dropped her gaze and studied his hands. They were strong and sure; he likely hadn’t had his nails buffed in his entire life. Every time he flicked the leather strap, corded muscles worked beneath his tanned skin.
A man’s hands, she realized in an instant, revealed a great deal about him.
“Never in my life have I met anyone as spoiled, impudent, reckless, and inconsiderate as you have been these past few weeks.”
Tabetha grimaced. Because, well, perhaps she had been at least some of those things. Her debut had been a whirlwind, and she’d had such grand expectations. And now…
“Westerley is on his way to Herefordshire. Likely a dozen men are out searching for you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“You’re acting just like my brother,” she grumbled.
“Ha! Your brother’s far more lenient with you than I would have been.”
Tabetha shifted uncomfortably, clutching not only the cat but her small valise, but then slid the slightest amount backward and his arm pulled her closer to his chest, keeping her from toppling onto the ground.
