Page 44 of The Society Catch
‘Giles.’ He felt rather than heard the soft whisper against his throat. Could he let her go? He doubted it. He thought about opening his arms, releasing her, gently urging her to her feet and helping her inside to Hebe’s care. And could not do it. His arms would not obey, his mind was not ready to exert its will.
She felt so right, curled trustingly against him, as though some sculptor had made a mould of his body and had created this being to fit within the curve of his arm, the shelter of his torso.
He thought about that first glimpse over Clifton’s shoulder. Her wide defiant eyes, the bruised mouth, her hands spread against the wall to support her. Those eyes were closed now, he could feel the lashes caressing the tendons of his throat. The slender fingers were spread over his back muscles, unconsciously flexing in a way which made him want to roll her over into the hay, feel her beneath him as he had in the meadow, kiss that bruised, delicate mouth into flowering response.
And he could not. He could do none of those things. She was clinging to him out of shock and reaction and because he was familiar and she trusted him. He had to start thinking again with his head, not his body, not with that newly awakened part of him which was still unsure of what it was feeling but which was intent on turning his will from iron into fragile porcelain.
Joanna felt Giles’s grip relax and his arms open. Unsteadily she sat up away from his chest and let her hands slide round to his sides to steady herself.
‘How do you feel now?’ he asked, his palm cupping her chin so he could tip up her face and look into her eyes.
‘Much better, honestly. Giles, thank you so much. And do notbe angry again if I say I am sorry, but Iamsorry that you have to keep rescuing me.’
She was relieved at his sudden grin and the fleeting caress of his hand as it left her chin. ‘No need to worry. Dragon-slaying is my speciality.’
Joanna smiled back then stiffened as her palm felt a sudden change from the hard muscled smoothness of his side. She twisted in his lap and ducked her head to look. ‘Giles, what a dreadful scar.’
He bent his head to look. ‘Oh, that. Shell fragment. They leave very untidy wounds.’
‘As opposed to what?’ she demanded.
‘Lances leave a nice tidy hole, if they don’t drag.’ He lifted her hand to his shoulder. ‘And a sabre,’ he moved her fingertips to the long thin scar running down the back of his right arm, ‘Now that can be positively neat.’
Joanna looked at him aghast. ‘You might have been killed by any of these.’
‘I suppose so. But what did you expect a soldier’s body to be like?’
Joanna knew she was blushing furiously but she was too intrigued to be distracted. ‘But this sabre cut, how could you defend yourself afterwards? You are right-handed.’
Giles extended both arms, clenching his fists until the muscles stood out. ‘You train until you can fight with either hand.’ He went still as Joanna put her hands on his forearms.
‘Do that again.’ Obligingly Giles clenched and unclenched his fists. Joanna gasped then put her right hand over her own left forearm and made a fist. ‘There is hardly anything there and I always thought I was quite strong.’
‘You are, look at the way you handle Moonstone. But a woman’s muscles are more slender. See.’ He traced his index finger down the back of her forearm. It was Joanna’s turn to gostill. For a long moment they looked at each other then Giles said lightly, ‘As I said before, I appear to be having the most improper conversations with you, Miss Fulgrave.’
‘I expect it is because I seem to get myself into such improper situations,’ she said with equal lightness. ‘Giles, you haven’t said why you have no shirt on and you are so wet.’
‘I was helping Alex’s head groom Hickling with a mare who has just foaled.’
‘Oh how lovely. May I see?’
Giles stood her on her feet and got up. ‘Not today,’ he said drily. ‘Anyone looking at you would have the impression that you have just been kissed, rolled in the hay and then pressed up against a very wet surface. Somehow I do not think this is a picture Hebe would wish you to present to the outdoor staff. I am afraid that hiding you from all of the indoor staff is going to be impossible. My only hope is that I am going to feature in below stairs gossip as the rescuer not the ravisher.’
‘You are teasing me,’ Joanna said stoutly, well aware that Giles was trying to make light of the possible embarrassment awaiting them. ‘I am sure Starling will not permit any gossip.’
Even so the butler’s professional imperturbability was clearly hard-pressed by the appearance on the doorstep of Giles in a deplorable state of semi-nakedness and grime accompanying Joanna who knew she looked every bit as bad as she felt.
‘Miss Joanna has had a most unfortunate encounter, Starling, although she is thankfully unharmed. If Lord Clifton should call she is not, under any circumstances whatsoever, at home. Regardless of who Lord Clifton is with. Now, if we can just get her upstairs before her ladyship sees us.’
‘Starling, what are you whispering about out here?’ Hebe emerged from the dining room, a large lace tablecloth in her hands. ‘Oh, my goodness.’
‘I am absolutely fine, Hebe…’
‘…no need to worry, I know it looks…’
‘I am quite sure, my lady…’
‘Oh be quiet the three of you.’ Hebe regarded them severely. ‘We will go upstairs, Joanna, and you can tell me all about it. Giles, put some clothes on for goodness’ sake. You will frighten half the housemaids into hysterics and the rest will fall in love with you. No, Starling, do not fuss, I promise I am quite all right.’
