She was glorious.
The noise of a snapping twig was as effective an ice bath as a dip in arctic waters. Dragging his face from the sweetness of her neck, he cleared his throat, willing his heart to slow. He tightened his grip on her arm, and spun her to face him, attempting to put her at arm’s length.
Not too close.
Too damn close.
“You were trying to run.” His voice was loaded with a huskiness he couldn’t hide.
“Like hell I was. I just wanted to get to my bag. That’s all.” His grip pinched, cutting off the flow of blood to her limb. “Let me go.Now!”
Stunned at her vehemence, he dropped his hand and stepped back.
Ragged breaths shook her body, and her breasts rose and fell in obvious agitation.
Feeling the utter villain, he ran his fingers through his hair.
“I sincerely apologize for my treatment.” He had no excuse. He couldn’t get things right around her. “Since our first encounter, I have done nothing as I should. Your arrival and revelation have muddled my brain.”
Not trusting her voice,she nodded at the apology that revealed a little more than she’d expected. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one acting out of character. A twinge of gratification surfaced, but was snuffed out by an unwelcome flash of guilt.
What the hell just happened? Haven bit her lip as sinfully yummy tremors rose along her spine. His gorgeous mouth had been a scant millimeter from her ear, and his long, calloused fingers slid along the length of her neck, riding the line between her skin and her hair. She’d never noticed before, but apparently it was a very sensitive spot, an undiscovered g-spot the duke worked like he’d known its secret location all along.
She straightened and turned, hesitating a moment before heading toward the rise he’d indicated earlier. The duke stayed where she’d left him, a dark look upon his face.
After cresting the hill, she walked to a cluster of trees near a large rock jutting from the otherwise flat ground. She stopped a few feet from the boulder and ran her fingers along the tender wound on her forehead.
Satisfied the duke brought her to the right place, she set her focus to finding her bag.
Hallelujah!
Her bag was settled under the cooling shade of a large tree. Even though it was open, and all its contents scattered about, it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on.
She bent, snatched it up, and hurriedly gathered her stuff. Finally, she grabbed her sports bra, and spotted the watchhuddled beneath. Not quite ready to deal with whatever the damn thing would bring, she tossed it inside, zipped the bag closed, and held it tight to her chest like a rescue buoy. She was so close to answers, and yet so far.
She turned to make her way back to where the duke was brooding, but stopped. A prickling at the back of her mind gave her goosebumps, and a wave of uneasiness slid over her. Tension, high and instinctual, took hold of her limbs. Gasping, she held the bag tighter. A shield of canvas and nylon.
A shield against what?
Shuddering, she ordered her legs to move away from the dread creeping along her spine. Was someone watching her? Along the copse of trees lining the pasture, shadows danced, leaves wavered, and bushes rustled with the breeze. Everything appeared as it should be, but there was something wrong, something missing.
It was silent.
The leaves moved, the bushes played in the wind, but birds didn’t sing. There was a void of life-affirming sounds, like a silent scream through soundproof glass. Everything went through the motions, but there was an underlying...wrongness about it.
Unable to shake away the cobwebs of suspicion, she sucked in a breath, pushed out her chin, and focused on the dark countenance of the duke.
When she arrived at the carriage, she waved away his hands and climbed inside unaided. The last thing she needed was another outlandishly hormonal episode like the last one spawned by the touch of his hand, and her wild, irrational desire.
She clasped the bridge of her nose, and squeezed her eyes shut as a weight settled over her shoulders. She’d never experienced such an emotional bumper car ride before—not even in her first marriage. From excitement over her firstcarriage ride, to the overwhelming attraction to the duke, and the relief she’d experienced at finding her bag, all combined with the nearly immobilizing sensation of dread.
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat and sent a desperate prayer into the sky.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hidden behind the wide trunk of an oak, the elegantly dressed man stopped, his clothes in disarray, the finely woven fabrics smeared in gore.
He held his breath, stilled his trembling hands, and hoped the thudding of his heart wasn’t as loud as it seemed.
