Page 65 of His Betrothed
“Oh, do you think so?” she asked with a touch of bitterness.
“I met your bailiff.”
She stiffened. “You didn’t tell him—”
“He knows who I am. Aren’t you happy not to have to lie to him anymore?”
A rush of anger shot through her, and she stepped closer to look down on him. “Happythat he’s now in danger?”
“Roselyn—”
“One Spaniard followed you—who knows if there could be another? Don’t you think I lieawake enough nights imagining—” She broke off as her voice cracked. She had tried so hard to protect the Heywoods. “And now they know I’ve been lying to them. What must they think?”
“Come here.”
His low, rumbling voice set off a jangle of nerves inside her. “No.”
He caughther skirt with one hand and pulled her between his outstretched legs. When she would have fled, he forced her to sit down on his thigh. Roselyn perched there, feeling awkward and ridiculous—and blinking back frustrated tears.
“Heywood is very worried about you,” he began.
She felt his arm settle around her waist, while his hand rested on her hip.
“And maybe he thinks I’m cruel for imposingon you. But I made it clear you had nursed me back to health, and it was only my stubbornness that was keeping me in this cottage.”
“Is it?” she whispered, glancing at him. His face was much too close, his dark eyes too powerful. Why did he touch her with such familiarity, when she knew he was only going to leave?
Spencer’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt that answering warmth, the wayher body lit like a new candle.
“What else did you and Francis discuss?” she asked breathlessly.
He no longer seemed to hear her. His lips were near hers, and his free hand touched her knee.
She bolted from his lap and ran.
