Black hair smattered across his chest, trailing a line to the indent of his navel. It was thicker and fanned out before disappearing into those breeches, which were more fitted than his usual trousers. With each step, the muscles in his shoulders and arms pulsed beneath smooth skin, taunting her fingers to trace all those valleys and ridges. Goose flesh ran all the way down to her toes, and afraid he might read her thoughts, she blinked a few times and swallowed hard.
But she couldn’t stop staring, fascinated, noting the taut ripples that made up most of his middle, displaying a patterned detail of sinew and strength.
No wonder he’d felt hard when he’d pressed against her back.
She lost all sense of time, and was almost surprised to find him standing just a few feet in front of her.
“I wasn’t running away.” Had she told him that already? “I wanted to see the view.” She jerked her chin up.
“But you were running. I thought you were…” He turned his head toward the sea, then back, and combed one hand through his hair, making it look even more wild than it did before. “The ground gives way sometimes. It isn’t safe to stand so close to the edge.”
She turned a pointed stare to the yards of ground between her and the drop-off. And then back, feeling bold. “You said I wouldn’t be trapped in a tower…” she reminded him.
“Right.” He exhaled.
The only indication of his sprint was a subtle rising and falling of his chest.
“You do trust me, don’t you?” she asked after a short pause.
It was a little ironic. A while back, he’d asked her to trust that he would never harm her, and she’d given him her word, but at the time she hadn’t really meant it.
At the time, she hadn’t really trusted him. How could she have?
He grimaced and shifted on his feet. “Your attempt to escape during the ride over was one of the most bungling efforts I’ve ever seen,” he said. Amelia blinked. Just what did that have to do with…? “It isn’t that I trust you, I just don’t believe you could actually get away.” The hint of a smile danced on his mouth.
He was teasing her!
That, paired with the absence of most of his clothing, had her insides humming. But that playful expression faded as quickly as it had appeared.
“But you can’t be out here alone.” His jaw flexed, he was all seriousness now. “You aren’t safe.”
But why?“I am not safe? This is your estate, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he replied with a crisp nod. “But the stone hedges are about four feet high.” He widened his stance, drawing her stare to the tops of his feet. A few miniscule hairs dusted his toes, but his feet, like everything else exposed this morning, were oddly… delicious.
Delicious? Really, Amelia?
When he’d tackled her in that meadow, she’d obviously hit her head. Because while discussing the dangers posed by these ancient cliffs, and also some unknown danger to her person, she was ogling his feet.
Ogling.
His feet!
Amelia forced herself to meet his eyes again. “Are there other smugglers? Is that why?”
When he looked away without answering, she assumed that must be the case. Even here, where she’d thought she was free, she really wasn’t. It didn’t seem fair.
Her nose burned, and tears started to gather in her eyes. “Very well.” Her concession came easily. She’d spent her whole life perfecting it, after all.
Still, it felt like donning an old pair of shoes—a pair she’d outgrown.
“I’m not saying you can’t explore—just not alone.”
It wouldn’t be the same. But she offered him a resigned smile.
He stretched his shoulders, drawing her attention back to his lack of attire.
Amelia bit her lip, flicking greedy eyes over so much undisguised… maleness. “Why are you…dressed like that?”
