Those lashes fluttered open, and Leopold reached out his hand to offer his assistance. “Come on now. You can continue your pouting in the carriage.”
And it worked. A spark appeared in her eyes—an angry one, but a spark nonetheless.
“I wasn’t pouting.” She ignored his offer of assistance and, although her skirts were twisted around her legs, managed to scramble to her feet.
“You’re lucky there aren’t any rams in this herd.” Leopold locked his fingers around one of her arms, carefully steering her around the sheep and back toward the road. “They’re territorial and have been known to throw grown men into the air.”
She glanced back, her expression one of disbelief.
“But the babies are adorable,” she said nonsensically. He didn’t dignify the comment with a response.
By the time they reached the stone wall, both soaked to the bone and covered in muck, Leopold stopped to grip her waist and practically tossed her over it.
And this time when they climbed into the carriage, he insisted she sit on the side farthest from the door. Because he needed to protect her from herself.
“Next time,” he pointed to the basket, “Eat something first.” Not that she’d get another opportunity. But he couldn’t have her wasting away on his watch.
“How do I know you aren’t going to poison me?”
He scoffed. “Did I not eat more than half of it? I’d have poisoned myself as well.” He nearly rolled his eyes at her. It would be simpler all around if he just told her the truth of this so-called abduction, but that wasn’t the plan. It was quite possible she knew more about her father’s dealings with Crossings than she’d let on. He couldn’t discount the possibility that her sympathies were with the duke.
Her father had sunk a good deal of funds into the duke’s endeavors, after all.
“You really aren’t going to kill me?”
He whipped around to face her. “God, no.”
Their stares locked in a battle of wills. One she would lose, and yet, similar to that moment in the mud, Leopold felt pierced, oddly exposed.
“I wish I could believe you,” she said at last.
He huffed. “Well, it doesn’t much matter whether you do or don’t, does it?” he asked, perhaps a little callously.
But rather than appearing threatened or cowed, Lady Amelia arched one delicate eyebrow. “Does it?”
It sounded like a challenge, one Leopold had honestly not expected from her. Fear, tantrums, helplessness—these were all reactions one might plan for when dealing with a spoiled damsel in distress, a debutante out of her element and in obvious danger. With Lady Amelia Crowley, however, her behaviors were surprisingly contradictory; she was both far calmer and more difficult in different ways than he’d imagined when he’d agreed to this rescue.
Leopold thrived on challenges, though. And interviewing this stubborn little debutante didn’t seem nearly as tedious as he’d expected it to be.
TOO MANY QUESTIONS
Amelia stared outside. The sun was shining again, something she’d normally appreciate, but after her dismal failure of an escape attempt, she didn’t feel much like appreciating anything. To make matters even worse, her gown was now covered in mud and other unmentionable substances, and those dratted poofy bell sleeves had become soaked and heavy.
Blasted Mister Beckworth!
She’d never been a rebellious sort—at all—in fact she was more than accustomed to following orders. But this was different. He was a highwayman!
What else could she do but assume the worst? With that in mind, when she’d seen the opportunity, she’d taken it. She rubbed her arms and stretched her ankles, both sore and scraped up, but not really injured. Yes, she’d fallen hard, when she’d landed on the road and then again in the meadow.
The second time had been worse. Even now, heat ebbed up her neck.
Of course, he’d come right after her. Caught up with her, thrown her to the ground, and then… landed on top of her. It had been degrading and humiliating.
“Don’t even think about trying to escape again.” Mr. Beckworth lifted his feet to rest on the opposite seat, effectively blocking her exit if she decided to throw herself out the door again.
“I didn’t think about trying to escape the first time.” Which was true…
“Obviously,” he answered dryly.
