“Will you be emotionally distressed if I do it so I can get a fucking drink?”
The answer to that was…probably.
“Just…go gentle,” I warned.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, then, “Bartie.”
The dog’s head snapped up, and I was pretty sure that was as fast a movement as he had in him, because when Battle let out a low whistle, I got exhausted watching the animal push himself laboriously to his feet.
He loped over to his daddy.
I grabbed my bag from my lap and stood.
“After you,” Battle invited, sweeping a long arm toward the door.
I started that way, praying I wouldn’t turn my ankle in these four-inch heels. I wasn’t a stranger to heels, but I was to four inches of them.
Once we left the study to walk down the plush, creamy, gold carpet runner of the hall, Battle fell into step beside me, Bartholomew trudging beside him.
We spoke no words, which I found unsettling.
When we hit the entryway, my heels clicked on the marble, while his soles drummed against it, both echoing through the cavernous space, and still I had no conversational gambit, and he didn’t bother to offer one.
The sounds of our shoes disappeared as we made the runner in the hall that led into the north wing.
“This is us,” Battle said, beginning to make a left turn into a room three doors down from the foyer.
He did this, so I did this, and then my evening bag was flying because I was flying, because something darted between my feet and tripped me.
Battle’s body jerked in surprise before he whirled and caught me.
Batholomew got closer to his daddy, maybe in support, but his movement nearly took Battle off his feet.
His arm around me tightened.
A fluffy white cloud raced between us, further thwarting either of our efforts to remain standing, thus Battle hauled me around, my back was slammed into a wall, Battle’s hard body slammed into mine, and the palm of his hand slammed against the plaster at the side of my head.
All of this took my breath away, so it came back in a whoosh as I tipped my head back to peer up at him.
His extraordinary face was close.
Very close.
His eyes were brown, yes.
But radiating from the iris was a gold tone that was mesmerizing.
And my breath left me again.
“I…uh…thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” he whispered in return.
But he didn’t move.
Except his eyes, which dropped to my mouth.
“Snowball! You rascal!”
