Page 32 of Enticing the Devil

“Sure you do.” He lowered himself to one knee in front of her. “Give me your feet.”

She gasped in indignant surprise. “I will not.”

He looked up at her, his expression dark and commanding. His tone allowing no room for dissent. “Your feet, Lady Anne.”

Pride flared in the depths of her fierce glare, but she braced her palms on the bench and lifted her feet into his waiting hands.

The shoes she wore were of soft satin with a sturdy leather sole. He detected nothing that might cause the kind of discomfort she displayed. But when he shifted his hold and his fingers brushed over her heels, she sucked in a swift breath.

“Lift your skirts.”

Her voice was more strained than resistant when she replied, “I don’t think—”

“I assure you, I’ve no devilish intentions. Now, do as I say or we’ll be stuck in this maze for the rest of the damned night.”

Her eyes were wide in shock at his use of the curse, but she recovered quickly enough. “Fine. But it’s nothing. Just a couple blisters from all the walking earlier. I’ll be perfectly all right once I have a chance to tend them.”

As she spoke, she tugged at her skirts, sliding them up her slim thighs a few scant inches. Just enough to clear the hem from her feet and ankles.

The severity of the issue was made immediately apparent by the dark reddish-brown stains soaking the heels of both slippers. The obstinate woman was bleeding and had been for some time.

Beynon muttered a harsh curse as he loosened the fastening of one shoe before gently starting to ease it from her foot.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply, trying to tug free of his grasp.

But he’d anticipated the reaction and had a firm grip around her ankle. Her features were set to a mulish expression but there was undeniable panic in her eyes.

“These shoes are causing more damage. They’re coming off.”

“But—”

He stopped her with his fiercest glower. The one he used when his youngest and most bullheaded little sister thought she could override his dictates.

The lady’s protests died. With her spine still straight and her eyes flashing, she turned her head to stare at some point in the near distance.

After removing the first shoe, he did the same for the other. The lady’s thin stockings had done nothing to protect her injuries from the constant friction caused by their endless trek through the maze. And he’d set such a harsh pace. Yet she’d never asked him slow or rest until now.

Stubborn, prideful woman.

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