Page 18 of The Moonstone Governess
“Do not turn prim and feign outrage. It is the only sensible solution, unless you wish to walk back to Moonstone Landing. You look tired, Miss Angel, and the sun is beating down on us relentlessly.”
“You could walk.”
“And leave the seat to you?” He tossed her that irritating look of detached amusement he must have perfected over the years, lifting one eyebrow as though obviously bored. His eyes shimmered with insolence and insufferable mirth. “Yes, I could. But I am not going to do it.”
“Fine, if you don’t care, then I won’t either.” It was not much of a threat, and she could see he was doing his best not to laugh at her. She was doing her best not to melt against his body, resisting when he wrapped his arms around her to hold her steady as the curricle rumbled and rattled its way down the steep roadway.
“Rest against me, Miss Angel,” he said a short while later. “You will only hurt yourself if you insist on teetering on the edge of my lap. You’ll tumble off the curricle if you are not careful.”
“I’ll be fine,” she snapped. “You needn’t hold on to me.”
“You are not fine. How can you be when you are unbalanced and holding your back as stiff as a board?” He grinned. “Of course, I refer to your being merely physically unbalanced, although your decision to remain as uncomfortably situated as you are is not very sensible.”
Would he simply not drop the subject? Were they not already giving Mr. Priam fodder for gossip? “I am not stiff or unbalanced.”
“Miss Angel, you will crack if you are any stiffer.”
She knew he was right, but she would rather swallow worms than ever admit it to him. “As for unbalanced, I—” Her protest was cut short when the curricle hit a rut and she almost went flying off it.
“Miss Angel!” the duke and Mr. Priam cried out in alarm at the same time.
Fortunately, the duke caught her and drew her back firmly against his chest. “Enough,” he said with raspy heat, and wrapped his muscled arms around her. “Lean on me and do not utter another word.”
Her heart was still pounding from her almost tumble, so she obeyed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Do not make anything of this, Your Grace.”
“Of what? Your being sensible?”
The lout.Why did he always have to be so smug?
Ignoring him proved impossible. Try as she might, she could not overlook his insanely appealing musk scent, the hard contours of his body, or her tingles as she remained enfolded in his sinfully strong arms.
The curricle hit another rut that would have sent her flying into the poppy field if not for his secure embrace. “Mr. Priam, are you purposely aiming for every bump in the road?”
“No, Miss Angel. I am doing my best.”
She wanted to say something more, but her lips were too close to the duke’s jaw. He had only to tip his head in the slightest for her mouth to graze his skin. Did he know it? Yes, of course he did.
“Comfortable yet, Miss Angel?” he asked, arrogantly tightening his arms around her as the curricle jounced over several more rough patches.
She prayed they would get into town fast and her ordeal would finally end, for his hands, despite their light touch, were burning into her skin.
Was this how it felt to be touched by a man who knew his way around a woman’s body?
She hated to think she was as easily conquered as all his other women. She certainly was not one ofthosewomen.
Her face was in flames by the time Mr. Priam drew his horse to a halt beside the Kestrel Inn’s stable. In her haste to get down, she tripped over the duke’s feet, and was about to take a dive onto her head when he caught her yet again and drew her back hard against him. “Blast it, Brenna,” he whispered, his lips against her ear. “Stop running from me.”
“I am not—” She made the mistake of tipping her chin up in defiance as she turned her head to face him.
Their lips touched.
Mr. Priam gasped.
She struggled to right herself, something not easy to do while flames wildly leaped through her veins.
Dear heaven.
First an unforgettable kiss this morning, and now this?
