“You certainly aren’t prude.”
“Did you think I would be?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“But now you know.” Tabetha held his gaze. She most definitely was not prude. Could he guess her thoughts by the look in her eyes? Feeling flushed, she edged away from the fire and onto the quilt. “Not being prude was good for my memory,” she reminded him.
He didn’t answer. Was she pushing too hard again?
“We finished off most of this.” He deliberately returned the linens and empty bottle to the basket. “Tomorrow, we’ll have no choice but to stop in one of the villages to purchase more rations.”
“Perhaps we can find some milk for Archie,” Tabetha suggested.
Rock was squatting on the blanket beside her, dangling his hands between his knees. “I’ll find milk for Archie. But we’ll need to keep you out of sight.”
He was staring at her again, as though trying to come to a decision. Tabetha licked her lips, knowing precisely what he was thinking.
“What will you do if you see one of them?” It was possible that the duke’s henchmen would want to exact revenge for the beating Rock had given them. “What if they ambush you? What if they have a pistol?”
He grimaced and then grinned. “Are you worried about me?”
“There is only one of you, and who knows how many there are of them!”
“You don’t think I can handle them?” He dropped his knees to the ground, crawling toward her with a menacing expression.
The sounds of his fists slamming into those villains were unusually vivid.
“You will handle them,” she admitted, her breath catching.
“And how will I do that?” The menacing tone of his voice thrilled her.
She was on her back now, pinned by her husband, who was crouching over her with a wicked glint in his eyes. She wiggled, pretending to try to escape, all the while staring into eyes the color of the sky at twilight, breathing in his scent, and relishing the feel of his thighs pressed against hers.
“Will you pound them?” Her voice trembled.
“Absolutely,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“And knock them out cold?” Tabetha grasped the sides of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair.
“But of course.” His mouth trailed over her jaw.
“Will you kiss me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 20
Surrender
Stone claimed Tabetha’s mouth. He’d decided to claim the rest of her and then changed his mind for the thousandth times since they’d stopped to make camp.
And then he’d changed it back.
What some of London’s best fighters had failed to do, Tabetha Fitzwilliam—nay, Tabetha Spencer—had managed to accomplish in less than a week.
Because Stone, a man who backed down to no one, was on the brink of surrender.
She was a spoiled debutante, one who had dismissed him more times than he could count. He swept his tongue behind her lips and she caught it with her teeth.
