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Authors: Tiffany Clare
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stable? She should have protested his improper inspection of her injured knee.
“You are a bit of a brute at times.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice level, uninterested. Even a bit superior.
“So I’ve been told,” he replied.
The remark was made in a light bantering tone, and it made her grin to hear a teasing side of his lordship.
His free hand traced the line of her jaw, stopping well before he reached the tender part of her chin. His action had all the air leaving her lungs in a rush, and she closed her eyes. Was it her imagination or was there a tremble to his hand as he held her almost reverently?
She forgot how to breathe in that moment. Felt her heart skitter and stop, skitter and stop. She swallowed against her dry throat and gasped for a breath of air. It didn’t fill her lungs easily, and the second and third breaths were just as hard to take.
He made no move to touch her further. Why was she disappointed by that fact? When she opened her eyes, she said, “I doubt that.”
What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she stepping away from him? Whatever her reason was, it must have something to do with the kick of excitement coursing through her, like the instant jolt you got upon tipping back a whole shot of liquor. What game was Lord Brendall playing at?
The bigger question that needed to be answered was: What would she gain in continuing this game whose rules she didn’t fully understand?
This was exactly how her sister Grace had ended up married. Doing things like this with a gentleman. Not a predicament Abby wanted to be in. The thought of marriage somehow cleared her mind and allowed her to breathe easier.
She met his gaze with indifference. At least that was what she hoped he read, before his pale blue
eyes hypnotized her. Silenced her. She could drown there, she decided. Lose herself so easily. So completely.
The only question left on her mind was, what would happen if she just let go? Just this once?
Elliott had come to the stable with no other purpose than to ask his governess why lessons had not commenced in the last few days. He’d talked to Jacob briefly this morning, asking his boy what he thought of Miss Hallaway.
Jacob had done nothing more than shrug and say he hadn’t seen her since that first day in the stable, then had relayed a story about a young red squirrel that had fallen out of a hole in one of the trees on the property.
After he’d assured Jacob that the mother squirrel would look after the baby with great diligence, the boy had scampered off to make sure the animal was well looked after.
He’d taken that as his cue to find Miss Hallaway immediately to remedy the fact that she hadn’t yet started any sort of schedule with Jacob.
Elliott certainly hadn’t meant to cause Miss Hallaway to fall from the ladder. Hadn’t meant for her to hurt herself. Definitely hadn’t meant to touch her inappropriately.
Well, that last bit was a lie. He’d wanted to touch so much more of her but had refrained. She was a temptress.
A veritable siren luring him into the water and farther from the shores of decency and sanity.
His long- dead wife, Madeline, would be laughing in her grave right now knowing he couldn’t keep his desires in check. Wright men had no business where women were concerned. He had his heir; he did not need a companion.
Hard to resist Miss Hallaway when she’d given no indication that she objected to the liberties he’d carefully taken. His attraction toward her had not dimmed one whit since he first met her. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her for the past three days, but couldn’t continue to do so when his son had yet to sit for a lesson.
He should leave her be, it was obvious she was searching for Jacob. And he’d been about to turn away and let her find the boy on her own when he’d had a peek at her pretty underthings, embroidered in a delicate pattern of fine pink and green fleur-de-lis. The French silk undergarments were
“You are a bit of a brute at times.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice level, uninterested. Even a bit superior.
“So I’ve been told,” he replied.
The remark was made in a light bantering tone, and it made her grin to hear a teasing side of his lordship.
His free hand traced the line of her jaw, stopping well before he reached the tender part of her chin. His action had all the air leaving her lungs in a rush, and she closed her eyes. Was it her imagination or was there a tremble to his hand as he held her almost reverently?
She forgot how to breathe in that moment. Felt her heart skitter and stop, skitter and stop. She swallowed against her dry throat and gasped for a breath of air. It didn’t fill her lungs easily, and the second and third breaths were just as hard to take.
He made no move to touch her further. Why was she disappointed by that fact? When she opened her eyes, she said, “I doubt that.”
What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she stepping away from him? Whatever her reason was, it must have something to do with the kick of excitement coursing through her, like the instant jolt you got upon tipping back a whole shot of liquor. What game was Lord Brendall playing at?
The bigger question that needed to be answered was: What would she gain in continuing this game whose rules she didn’t fully understand?
This was exactly how her sister Grace had ended up married. Doing things like this with a gentleman. Not a predicament Abby wanted to be in. The thought of marriage somehow cleared her mind and allowed her to breathe easier.
She met his gaze with indifference. At least that was what she hoped he read, before his pale blue
eyes hypnotized her. Silenced her. She could drown there, she decided. Lose herself so easily. So completely.
The only question left on her mind was, what would happen if she just let go? Just this once?
Elliott had come to the stable with no other purpose than to ask his governess why lessons had not commenced in the last few days. He’d talked to Jacob briefly this morning, asking his boy what he thought of Miss Hallaway.
Jacob had done nothing more than shrug and say he hadn’t seen her since that first day in the stable, then had relayed a story about a young red squirrel that had fallen out of a hole in one of the trees on the property.
After he’d assured Jacob that the mother squirrel would look after the baby with great diligence, the boy had scampered off to make sure the animal was well looked after.
He’d taken that as his cue to find Miss Hallaway immediately to remedy the fact that she hadn’t yet started any sort of schedule with Jacob.
Elliott certainly hadn’t meant to cause Miss Hallaway to fall from the ladder. Hadn’t meant for her to hurt herself. Definitely hadn’t meant to touch her inappropriately.
Well, that last bit was a lie. He’d wanted to touch so much more of her but had refrained. She was a temptress.
A veritable siren luring him into the water and farther from the shores of decency and sanity.
His long- dead wife, Madeline, would be laughing in her grave right now knowing he couldn’t keep his desires in check. Wright men had no business where women were concerned. He had his heir; he did not need a companion.
Hard to resist Miss Hallaway when she’d given no indication that she objected to the liberties he’d carefully taken. His attraction toward her had not dimmed one whit since he first met her. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her for the past three days, but couldn’t continue to do so when his son had yet to sit for a lesson.
He should leave her be, it was obvious she was searching for Jacob. And he’d been about to turn away and let her find the boy on her own when he’d had a peek at her pretty underthings, embroidered in a delicate pattern of fine pink and green fleur-de-lis. The French silk undergarments were
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