words hardly registered. Shaking with sick relief, she
pressed against his side. He was all that shielded her from unimaginable horror. His ruthless grip on her arm anchored her
to reality, stopped her screaming out her fear.
Her disbelieving heart thundered two words over and over.I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.
Monks grinned at Lord Sheene in a horribly knowing way that made cold sweat break out all over her body. “I wish your
lordship good sport. Eh, I’ll be right glad to give you tips on pleasing a lass.”
The marquess’s smooth baritone dripped ice. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, Monks. Treat this lady with respect or by
God, you’ll answer for it.”
Lord Sheene’s arm slid around Grace’s shoulders and drew her into his body. Like an elixir against panic, the clean smell
of his skin wafted out to tease her. It was familiar although she’d have thought herself too disoriented yesterday to notice
his scent.
“That goes for you too, Filey.” He sounded like a man who commanded armies, not a poor captive lunatic. “Now leave
us.”
The aura of authority must have convinced. Filey and Monks scuttled off in bowing confusion. Only when they were out
of sight did Lord Sheene untangle himself and step away. Grace immediately missed his heat and strength.
“Are you all right?” His hauteur had vanished. He sounded concerned, kind. The hostility for once was absent.
Grace wrapped her arms around herself to control her shaking but they didn’t provide the warmth she’d found in Lord
Sheene’s embrace. Her legs felt like they might collapse under her. She needed a couple of attempts before she could
control her voice enough to reply. “They…they didn’t hurt me.”
“They would have. It was foolhardy to confront them.” Intent golden eyes ranged over her. Eventually, he gave a nod as
if he accepted she was unharmed. “I believe your story about the kidnap.”
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Well, hoorah for you.Good honest anger swamped her dread. Renewed energy made her straighten and glare at him. “I
appreciate your condescension, my lord. Any man with eyes in his head could see I was telling the truth.”
His lips curved in another of his wry smiles. “You forget you’re dealing with a poor mad fool, Mrs. Paget.”
His show of charming self-derision made her angrier. Unless she got away, she’d pitch something at his handsome head.
“I think you are precisely as mad as you wish to be, my lord.” She whirled around and marched toward the house, cursing
every male born into this miserable world.
By the time she came downstairs for dinner, Grace regretted her temper. It had been reaction to her paralyzing fear when
Monks spoke so dispassionately of killing her. She shuddered anew at what could have happened if Lord Sheene hadn’t
saved her.
If Lord Sheene hadn’t claimed her as his.Of course, it meant nothing. He didn’t want her. If he wanted her, he could have
her. What stopped him extending those elegant hands and taking her? He’d even come to her room last night, then hadn’t
been able to stomach the act.
When she quietly entered the salon and saw him standing at the window, her heart began to race. She told herself she
trembled because she was scared. But years of endurance and unhappiness had taught her unflinching honesty. Along with
fear, other emotions stirred. Her wariness of the marquess held none of the gagging revulsion Filey aroused.
Lord Sheene kept his back to her as he looked out into the twilight. Yet again, his isolation struck her. His physical
isolation. And also his spiritual isolation. Perhaps that alone constituted his madness. So far, she’d seen little other sign of
his affliction.
He spoke without turning. “Stay away from Monks and Filey. They don’t make idle threats.”
Again, that instinctive animal awareness of what
pressed against his side. He was all that shielded her from unimaginable horror. His ruthless grip on her arm anchored her
to reality, stopped her screaming out her fear.
Her disbelieving heart thundered two words over and over.I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.
Monks grinned at Lord Sheene in a horribly knowing way that made cold sweat break out all over her body. “I wish your
lordship good sport. Eh, I’ll be right glad to give you tips on pleasing a lass.”
The marquess’s smooth baritone dripped ice. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, Monks. Treat this lady with respect or by
God, you’ll answer for it.”
Lord Sheene’s arm slid around Grace’s shoulders and drew her into his body. Like an elixir against panic, the clean smell
of his skin wafted out to tease her. It was familiar although she’d have thought herself too disoriented yesterday to notice
his scent.
“That goes for you too, Filey.” He sounded like a man who commanded armies, not a poor captive lunatic. “Now leave
us.”
The aura of authority must have convinced. Filey and Monks scuttled off in bowing confusion. Only when they were out
of sight did Lord Sheene untangle himself and step away. Grace immediately missed his heat and strength.
“Are you all right?” His hauteur had vanished. He sounded concerned, kind. The hostility for once was absent.
Grace wrapped her arms around herself to control her shaking but they didn’t provide the warmth she’d found in Lord
Sheene’s embrace. Her legs felt like they might collapse under her. She needed a couple of attempts before she could
control her voice enough to reply. “They…they didn’t hurt me.”
“They would have. It was foolhardy to confront them.” Intent golden eyes ranged over her. Eventually, he gave a nod as
if he accepted she was unharmed. “I believe your story about the kidnap.”
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Well, hoorah for you.Good honest anger swamped her dread. Renewed energy made her straighten and glare at him. “I
appreciate your condescension, my lord. Any man with eyes in his head could see I was telling the truth.”
His lips curved in another of his wry smiles. “You forget you’re dealing with a poor mad fool, Mrs. Paget.”
His show of charming self-derision made her angrier. Unless she got away, she’d pitch something at his handsome head.
“I think you are precisely as mad as you wish to be, my lord.” She whirled around and marched toward the house, cursing
every male born into this miserable world.
By the time she came downstairs for dinner, Grace regretted her temper. It had been reaction to her paralyzing fear when
Monks spoke so dispassionately of killing her. She shuddered anew at what could have happened if Lord Sheene hadn’t
saved her.
If Lord Sheene hadn’t claimed her as his.Of course, it meant nothing. He didn’t want her. If he wanted her, he could have
her. What stopped him extending those elegant hands and taking her? He’d even come to her room last night, then hadn’t
been able to stomach the act.
When she quietly entered the salon and saw him standing at the window, her heart began to race. She told herself she
trembled because she was scared. But years of endurance and unhappiness had taught her unflinching honesty. Along with
fear, other emotions stirred. Her wariness of the marquess held none of the gagging revulsion Filey aroused.
Lord Sheene kept his back to her as he looked out into the twilight. Yet again, his isolation struck her. His physical
isolation. And also his spiritual isolation. Perhaps that alone constituted his madness. So far, she’d seen little other sign of
his affliction.
He spoke without turning. “Stay away from Monks and Filey. They don’t make idle threats.”
Again, that instinctive animal awareness of what
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