Page 22 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
“How should I make my way to the ground unless I look down?” she growled in frustration. “Now you’ll refer to me as the climbing pea-wit.” Petra lowered her voice in an imitation of his deep rasp. “She’s like a cat in a tree that can’t come down. I can just hear you now.”
“I told you.” He struggled to keep from laughing. “I was angry about something else at the time. I don’t truly think you to be a pea-wit.”
“You have yet to apologize. You also said my only purpose in life was to marry well, which isn’t at all true. Ihavea purpose.”
“Your purpose?” He would have to climb up to her. “Now you’ve piqued my interest.”
“I’m not going to discuss my purpose with you, of all people.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t expect such a thing.” Hewascurious, though.
“It’s of no import.” Another shower of leaves came down.
He thought it might be, but now was not the time to ask her to explain. “I’ll come to you.” Brendan looked up at the stockinged legs above him. “Don’t move.”
“You can’t come up here.” He heard a rustle of clothing. “I’m—” He heard her gasp as she realized her legs were exposed. Shrieking with panic, Petra swung precariously above him as she tried unsuccessfully to cover her exposed limbs.
“Petra, I’ve already seen your legs. Stop moving about or you could fall.”
“You are being overly familiar by remarking on my legs. A gentleman would turn away and ignore the sight completely. Nor would a gentlemen mention…them by name.”
Another delicious ache fluttered across his chest. “I am climbing a bloody tree to rescue you. If I wish to look at yourlegs,I will.”
“You are horrible. Truly. Very ill-mannered.”
“I suppose so.” Brendan threw down his pack and started up the tree, finding the hand and footholds naturally to pull himself up through the branches. A few minutes later, he reached the thick branch Petra was holding onto for dear life. Her skirts were rucked up on either side and in addition to her calves she was showing a good bit of her knees and thighs. Slinging one leg over, he straddled the limb and faced her.
Petra caught the direction of his gaze. “A gentleman wouldn’t look. Avert your eyes.”
“I thought we’d established I am not a gentleman. Why haven’t you left for Brushbriar?”
She was so fucking beautiful with a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and a twig sticking out of her hair, just above her right ear. Her bonnet was long gone and probably laying amongst the leaves below them. Thick strands of honey-gold hair fell over the tops of her shoulders. He wanted to kiss her senseless. But first he needed to get her down from the tree.
“Mother had a bit of a relapse this morning. Though she is eager to continue our journey, she’s more concerned about appearing ill as she meets Lady Pendleton for the first time.” He didn’t miss the slight bit of satisfaction in her words. “We will leave for Brushbriar in the morning.”
Brendan suppressed the surge of happiness that swelled inside him. He shouldn’t be happy, but the idea of Petra under his roof for another night did strange things to his heart, as well as other parts of his anatomy.
Petra had stopped trying to cover her legs. She shot a wistful glance at Mam Tor and whispered, “Simon is expecting us.”
Pendleton wouldneverallow a tree climbing viscountess. He was too much of a prig ,as were most any gentleman of his station. Thankfully, Brendan wasn’t of that ilk. He was delighted to discover Petra’s reckless streak.
“The view of Mam Tor is amazing from this high up.” Petra’s hair blew across her face as a breeze took the long, golden strands. She looked wild and scandalous with her skirts hiked up and her legs dangling on either side of the branch.
Brendan had never been so aroused in his life. He clutched the limb he sat on so tight the bark dug into his skin. “Are you ready to climb down?”
“If I answered no, would you leave me here?” She kept her face pointed toward Mam Tor. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, sparking the bits of gold in the honey of her hair. He saw sadness in her lovely features. “Perhaps I could build a tree house.”
A fierce rush of protectiveness filled him. He sensed her melancholy and wondered at her feelings for Simon. He’d been under the assumption she wanted to marry Pendleton. After all, he was a most suitable match. But now, hearing the wistfulness in her voice, Brendan wasn’t so certain. He held out his hand, stretching out the fingers. “Take my hand.”
Petra finally turned to him, fear in her eyes. Cautiously she inched toward him and reached out her hand, the slender length of her fingers intertwining with his. “Don’t let go.”
The words echoed across his heart even though he didn’t wish it. He saw the trust for him shining in her face, despite her fear. Despite all he’d done to ensure her dislike for him.
Damn it.
Slowly, she moved forward. “Don’t let go,” she whispered again.
“Never.” The word resonated with certainty, despite Brendan’s best attempts to discard the feeling. He wasn’t sure who was more afraid in that moment, him or Petra. “I won’t.”
