Read Online Clandestine by Nichole van - Free Book Online Page B

head reared back. “And you feel incivility fits the bill?”
    It was Kit’s turn to shrug. Saucily mimicking his nonchalance.
    He gave a wry grin. Though . . . it was so much more than just a grin, really.
    He had one of those slow-burn smiles. The kind that started small and then grew wider and wider until pow ! You forgot how to breathe.
    Stupid, handsome man.
    “After such a scolding, I can hardly introduce myself now, can I?” He added a cocky smirk to his ridiculously charming smile.
    Both her eyebrows went up and she folded her hands in her lap. Mostly because they itched to swat that grin off his face. “You must forgive me, sir. I am not adept at following astonishing jumps in logic.”
    Impossibly, his smile broadened, crinkling his eyes. “That was nicely done.”
    “Excuse me?” It was Kit’s turn to look confused.
    “All of it. The cutting remark, the self-righteous folding of your hands—”
    “Self-righteous?! Gracious! And you call yourself a gentleman—”
    He laughed good and loud at that. His head went back and his eyes disappeared.
    And at that precise moment, Kit realized she was in serious, deep-water trouble.
    Handsome, dashing, charming man.
    With obvious secrets to hide.
    Curse him.
    Still chuckling, he gestured toward her. “Well, if I introduce myself now, it would smack of surrender. And I assure you, I never raise a white flag.”
    He did not, however, refute her accusation of his un-gentleman-ness.
    Interesting.
    They stared at each other for a moment.
    “Well, I thank you for rescuing me,” she said at last, not wanting to seem churlish. “‘Twas most fortunate.”
    He patted the horse’s neck again. Shrugged. “I am glad that today has been fortunate for one of us, at least.”
     
     
    Marc swallowed and let out a slow breath, continuing to rub the horse. Mostly to give the illusion of being busy.
    Wow. He was so utterly out of his depth.
    Ninja Pirate 1 had most definitely not prepared him for situations like this.
    Though who knew all the horse jumping training he had undergone for that western cattle-heist flick ( The Quick and the Spurious —it was huge in India) would prove so useful.
    He had stopped the horse based entirely on muscle-memory and then turned . . .
    . . . to find this woman staring at him.
    He didn’t know what he had expected a nineteenth century woman to look like . . . but she was most certainly not it.
    She sat on the carriage bench swaddled in a cloak and seemingly twenty layers of clothing. Composed and steady, despite the undoubtedly frightening ordeal with her horse. She didn’t seem like a woman who could be easily rattled. More like a fierce huntress with her hair torn loose and fluttering wildly around her face, spilling onto her shoulders.
    Brown-ish hair . . . though it wasn’t exactly brown. It glinted with reds and golds too and curled everywhere.
    Definitely not simple brown, now that he considered it. He was sure Emme would have an exact word for the color. Auburn, maybe?
    And huge, wide-set brown eyes that somehow matched the color of her hair, golden and warm.
    So again, not quite brown really.
    They looked out inquisitively, framed between dark arching eyebrows and high cheekbones. He could tell she was tall, even seated.
    And then there was her feisty, quick wit.
    All in all, she reminded him vaguely of Katherine Hepburn in her prime. An Adam’s Rib Katharine Hepburn.
    Bottom line . . . she was stunning.
    Which was entirely unexpected. Why had he always assumed that women in the past would be more quiet and submissive? Somehow . . . less than women in the modern age.
    This woman was clearly none of those things.
    What had she said her name was? Miss Ashton?
    She clearly hadn’t appreciated his teasing refusal to introduce himself, but Marc was hesitant to tell anyone his name until he had chatted with Arthur.
    Though, would it hurt to tell her his first name? He hadn’t considered that. Was he being rude? He didn’t want to be