Page 31 of Enticing the Devil

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“BLOODY HELL.”

Beynon didn’t intend to mutter the curse out loud. He’d managed to keep nearly a dozen previous curses firmly behind his teeth, but the hour they’d spent encountering endless dead ends and false avenues had steadily worn at his self-control and he no longer had the proper means of tempering his frustration.

“Mr. Thomas.”

He could feel the annoyance in his partner’s tone. It struck his senses like a fine whip. In truth, he was rather surprised the woman hadn’t spoken up more than she had as he’d led them deeper and deeper into what he was beginning to suspect was an impossible maze. He expected a litany of complaints to start up any moment. So far, after her initial protests, she only piped up when they’d reach a divergence in the path to voice a suggestion on which way they should go. Sometimes he agreed with her recommendation. Sometimes he didn’t.

When he didn’t, he almost always heard a quiet huffing sigh. But the lady refrained from arguing further. He’d been grateful for her silence at first, but now he was doubting his direction and silently wished he’d put more faith in Lady Anne’s strategies.

“Mr. Thomas.”

Her tone had gotten sharper and—if he wasn’t mistaken—farther away.

He immediately stopped to look over his shoulder. She’d taken a seat on one of the many petite stone benches set throughout the maze. Her fine features were strained and her skin slightly flushed. Though the pink in her cheeks could have been from the rather punishing pace he’d set for them, he suspected there was a healthy tinge of frustration coloring her stiff-backed attitude.

With a heavy sigh and a quick glance at the sky above, which was starting to turn from blue to a soft violet-gray, he strode to his partner’s side.

“I need just a moment before we continue on,” she explained.

“A moment,” he conceded gruffly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I reckon we have barely another half-hour before it’ll be dark.”

“I’m aware.” Her tone was decidedly curt.

The lady was peeved.

He was about to say something about taking the competition too seriously when he noticed her wince. It was so slight and swift and subtle he almost missed it. He paused and narrowed his gaze.

There it was again—a brief tensing around her mouth as she adjusted her feet beneath her skirts.

Dammit.

He should pretend he didn’t see it. That would be the gentlemanly thing, right? For her to be so intent on hiding whatever discomfort she was experiencing meant she didn’t want him to know of it. He should respect that.

He was just about to glance away when she lowered her chin and rolled her lips in between her teeth as she closed her eyes.

Dammit.

“What is it?” he asked. He acknowledged the gruffness of his tone and so wasn’t very surprised when the lady looked up at him with a firmly blank expression.

“What is what, Mr. Thomas?”

“You’re in pain, Lady Anne. What is the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” she replied stiffly.

Hadn’t he already told her once she was a terrible liar?

“Then let’s get going.”

He turned to walk away but then glanced quickly back to watch her.

She rose very slowly—very tentatively—to her feet. Her face was a mask of stoic resignation. It looked as if she’d forge ahead despite whatever was distressing her until she took her first step. Her whole body flinched and she bit hard to her bottom lip.

“Sit down,” he barked.

He thought she might protest, but she lowered herself back to the bench with a choked sigh. “I just need another minute or two,” she insisted from between clenched teeth.

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