Page 8 of The Tempting of a Devilish Lord

He covered the distance swiftly enough, having followed the paths worn into the hills hundreds of times since childhood. He dismounted not far from the rock formation and gave Beau a pat. “Won’t be long with any luck,” he assured the gelding.

From his position at the base of the rock, he saw no sign of the woman until a bonneted head peeked over.

“Mary-Anne?” she asked hopefully.

He lifted a brow and eyed the woman.

“You’re not Mary-Anne.”

“No.”

A wide, wary gaze met his. He couldn’t ascertain the color of them from here, but red curls fluttered beneath the bonnet. He cursed his luck. The redheaded woman from by the lake, the one who had drawn his attention.

Of course.

Naturally.

Who else would it be? It could not be some wizened old thing. No, it had to be a pretty woman wrapped in delicate green with hair the color of fire.

His favorite.

All he had to do was offer her aid then walk away. How difficult could that be? Given his history, pretty darned difficult but a man could change, could they not? And he had vowed he would to his mother. At least temporarily. After the death of his wife, many years ago, he had little desire to be a one-woman man.

“My sister has gone for help.” She waved a hand. “You may go.”

He let his lips slant into an amused smile as she waved him away as though she were a queen dismissing her subjects. Given she had to be lying flat on her front, the regal nature of it all rather impressed him.

“I see no sign of her.”

“Well, she walks very fast. She might well be in town by now.”

“I could have you down and safe before she returns. Would that not be better?”

“I’m quite well.” She waved a hand again. “Do go on. The views are spectacular from here.”

He nodded. “I know, though they are better enjoyed when one is not lying on their stomach.”

“I—” She paused. “It is a little windy. I risk being pushed over if I stand.”

“Shall I come up to you?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Oh no. Please do go on, sir. I am quite well.”

He glanced up at the clouds and pointed east. “It’s going to get worse. Maybe even rain. This area of the country is known for being windy.”

She craned her neck, and he swore he heard her sigh over the wind. “I shall manage, I am certain.”

This was getting silly. She had no reason to deny his aid. In fact, most women would be practically begging for it, whether they were in trouble or not. “I’m coming to you.”

“No, sir,” she protested.

He whipped off his hat and jacket, stashing it near the base of the rocks.

“Sir,” she continued, “there is really no nee—”

She shut up when he flicked open his cufflinks and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He glanced up to find her head gone. Had the woman been blown off the top of the rock entirely? He shook his head to himself and began to climb the rock.

Once he was one step from the top, he spotted her, lying on her back, her arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. The green dress he’d spotted spread out about her, a soft feminine splash against the hard, gray rock. He spied gentle curves and surmised her to be fairly tall.

---