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Authors: Tiffany Clare
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still hugged the ladder. Lord Brendall still held her tight to him with her back to his front.
Not a predicament she wanted or ever planned to be in.
And good Lord, why wasn’t he letting her go? And why was she starting to feel flushed and pliant in his hold?
“I’m fine now,” she pointed out.
Since her feet finally reached the ground and she no longer needed the support of the ladder, she released it.
Lord Brendall, however, did not let her go. She stilled, her body as rigid as a board, as she felt the heat of his body through her clothes.
Abby knew she should at the very least push him away, but the adrenaline pumping through her body from the fall did something funny to her. Her legs felt unsteady, and her hands shook a little as she waited for him to say or do something.
With a deep breath, Abby found the calm she displayed to everyone in her acquaintance. “Do you wish to intimidate me, my lord?”
One of his hands moved to her chin and tilted her head to the side. “Only to make certain you’ve not caused yourself any lasting damage.”
He was surprisingly gentle, his hands a little shaky as he skimmed over her jaw with the blunt tips of his fingers and inspected the spot that had smacked against the ladder rung.
She remembered how those fingers felt against her own hand. What would they feel like on other parts of her exposed skin? Her stomach flipped with the thought. She should pull away; she should slide out from under his arms. It wouldn’t be that difficult. It was the right thing to do.
She pinched her eyes shut and focused on herself. Only herself. Why didn’t she want to do the proper thing? She had no answer to that question. Admittedly, she had pictured herself in this type of scenario with Lord Brendall over the past few days. Idle time was dangerous to one’s thoughts and imagination. Especially hers.
It was true that she’d always walked a thin line between right and wrong, but always on the side of propriety. Doing what she ought to do suddenly seemed dull and mind numbing.
She hissed in a breath when his finger prodded under her chin. He stopped his inspection
immediately upon hearing her pained sound.
“The skin is only reddened. You’ve bruised yourself, nothing more.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, but her voice wavered, which was probably due to the fact that he was still touching her.
Lord Brendall turned her around to face him, moving his warm body away from her. She didn’t like the loss of his warmth one bit. And that wasn’t good . . . wasn’t right.
“What else did you hurt?”
“My knee, but it’s no worse than my chin.”
She was beside herself when he slid his big hands down to gather up her skirts and went on bended knee to inspect the damage. She tried not to think about what he’d reveal in lifting the heavy twill. She should put a stop to his actions. Should but would not, because she liked the excitement that coursed through her with his surprisingly gentle inspection.
Her knee throbbed in time to her heartbeat. She couldn’t meet his gaze when his hand skimmed over her calf and then around her lower thigh as he lifted and studied her knee.
Was it her imagination or did he toy with the ties that held her stockings in place? Her breath caught in her lungs.
“Only a scratch, but you’ve torn your stockings right through.” His finger traced the edge of that hole, making her heart skip and speed up to double its normal tempo.
“Yes,” was her pathetic reply.
As Lord Brendall stood, her skirts fell back around her legs. Casually, he grasped the ladder behind her with one hand and gave her a thoughtful look.
The shiver of anticipation she’d felt earlier now did a jig throughout her body. What was he about?
“Why is it that you don’t find me intimidating, Miss Hallaway?”
She didn’t miss the note of wonder in his voice. But it was an odd question to ask of her. Was she supposed to run shamefaced and embarrassed from the
Not a predicament she wanted or ever planned to be in.
And good Lord, why wasn’t he letting her go? And why was she starting to feel flushed and pliant in his hold?
“I’m fine now,” she pointed out.
Since her feet finally reached the ground and she no longer needed the support of the ladder, she released it.
Lord Brendall, however, did not let her go. She stilled, her body as rigid as a board, as she felt the heat of his body through her clothes.
Abby knew she should at the very least push him away, but the adrenaline pumping through her body from the fall did something funny to her. Her legs felt unsteady, and her hands shook a little as she waited for him to say or do something.
With a deep breath, Abby found the calm she displayed to everyone in her acquaintance. “Do you wish to intimidate me, my lord?”
One of his hands moved to her chin and tilted her head to the side. “Only to make certain you’ve not caused yourself any lasting damage.”
He was surprisingly gentle, his hands a little shaky as he skimmed over her jaw with the blunt tips of his fingers and inspected the spot that had smacked against the ladder rung.
She remembered how those fingers felt against her own hand. What would they feel like on other parts of her exposed skin? Her stomach flipped with the thought. She should pull away; she should slide out from under his arms. It wouldn’t be that difficult. It was the right thing to do.
She pinched her eyes shut and focused on herself. Only herself. Why didn’t she want to do the proper thing? She had no answer to that question. Admittedly, she had pictured herself in this type of scenario with Lord Brendall over the past few days. Idle time was dangerous to one’s thoughts and imagination. Especially hers.
It was true that she’d always walked a thin line between right and wrong, but always on the side of propriety. Doing what she ought to do suddenly seemed dull and mind numbing.
She hissed in a breath when his finger prodded under her chin. He stopped his inspection
immediately upon hearing her pained sound.
“The skin is only reddened. You’ve bruised yourself, nothing more.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, but her voice wavered, which was probably due to the fact that he was still touching her.
Lord Brendall turned her around to face him, moving his warm body away from her. She didn’t like the loss of his warmth one bit. And that wasn’t good . . . wasn’t right.
“What else did you hurt?”
“My knee, but it’s no worse than my chin.”
She was beside herself when he slid his big hands down to gather up her skirts and went on bended knee to inspect the damage. She tried not to think about what he’d reveal in lifting the heavy twill. She should put a stop to his actions. Should but would not, because she liked the excitement that coursed through her with his surprisingly gentle inspection.
Her knee throbbed in time to her heartbeat. She couldn’t meet his gaze when his hand skimmed over her calf and then around her lower thigh as he lifted and studied her knee.
Was it her imagination or did he toy with the ties that held her stockings in place? Her breath caught in her lungs.
“Only a scratch, but you’ve torn your stockings right through.” His finger traced the edge of that hole, making her heart skip and speed up to double its normal tempo.
“Yes,” was her pathetic reply.
As Lord Brendall stood, her skirts fell back around her legs. Casually, he grasped the ladder behind her with one hand and gave her a thoughtful look.
The shiver of anticipation she’d felt earlier now did a jig throughout her body. What was he about?
“Why is it that you don’t find me intimidating, Miss Hallaway?”
She didn’t miss the note of wonder in his voice. But it was an odd question to ask of her. Was she supposed to run shamefaced and embarrassed from the
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