Page 122 of The Duke's Daring Bride

“No’…another…word.”

There was so much menace in that statement that she decided to do as he commanded, and merely allowed her head to fall against his coat as he strode effortlessly through the London night.

Chapter 20

Alistair didn’t put her down until he came upon a hansom cab he thought he could trust, and even then it was just to toss her inside.

Nay, not really, although he considered it; tossing her inside, letting her get home herself, and he could stalk off into the night and find some ruffian to beat the shite out of. Perhaps he’d get lucky and someone would attack him, and he could take out all the fear and anger on him.

The fear, the sick taste of fear which had risen in the back of his throat when Alistair had stepped from the shadows and seen her. His sweet, well-meaning, vulnerable wife…standing among the scum of London.

Yer bold, daring, audacious wife, ye mean.

At first, he’d tried to convince himself his wife couldn’t be so foolish as to venture into this part of town…but he’d known it to be true. After all, she’d done it before. This was where he’d met her, for fook’s sake.

So he hadn’t left her alone for quite a few reasons:

He couldn’t trust her not to climb out of the hack and follow him.

He knew how likely her strength and boldness was to get her into more trouble between here and home.

He wanted to pull her onto his lap and swat that sweet bottom a few more times, until she realized how much she’d frightened him.

He wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her just to remind himself she was alive, she was safe.

His fingers itched to do something, and he had to admit the truth: all he really wanted was to find a way to make her understand how much she meant to him.

So Alistair climbed in after her and pulled the door shut. Once they were ensconced in darkness he settled against the swabs, then reached for her. He wasn’t certain of his intentions until his hands closed around her upper arms, but then he was dragging her to him, crushing his lips against hers, folding himself around her body—her soul.

Whimpering, Olivia curled her fingers around his lapels and returned the kiss with equal vigor.

That’s my lass.

Damnation, how could she be so stupid? To go into a place like that, after dark? Even after he told her he’d take care of it?

But on the other hand…she was Olivia. Her boldness was one of the reasons he loved her.

He froze, heedless of the fact her tongue was in his mouth.

Loved her?

Good Christ, he did love her, didn’t he?

His chest constricted and he tightened his hold. He loved her, and tonight he could’ve lost her.

“Alistair,” she whispered, switching her lips to his jaw.

“Nay,” he rasped. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for any of this.

“Not another word, yes, I remember,” she murmured primly, even as her lips continued to torture him.

He didn’t want to be aroused. He wanted to sit quietly in the dark and figure out exactly what in the everloving fook was going on with his heart…but his cock had other ideas.

Olivia was in his lap, her teeth currently tugging on his earlobe, and it was becoming increasingly difficult not to let go of his anger and inch up her skirt, to hell with whoever could see them.

“Distract…me?” he croaked in accusation.

She hummed against the pulse point in his throat. “Is it working?”

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