Page 27 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante
“Very.”
“Well...then I suppose when the next northbound coach comes, I’ll be on it.”
Prudence felt foolishly disappointed. She had just told him he shouldn’t feel compelled to stay with her. He’d been kind enough to her, for all her folly. So she made herself smile again and said cheerfully, “Good luck to you, sir! I pray you find your sister.”
He nodded. He shifted his weight. “Good luck to you, Miss Cabot.” He sounded reluctant. He frowned, and he didn’t move. He stared at her a moment, his gaze intent, then spread his fingers wide and studied his palm. “So...you’ll return to Blackwood Hall, is that it?”
She looked around. Maybe, she thought, she could make it to Himple on her own and spare herself the humiliation of returning to Blackwood Hall. “Perhaps I should carry on to Himple to meet my friend. It’s not very far from here at all.”
She shielded her face and looked down the road. But the road bent at an odd angle. She stood up— wobbling a bit, given that her feet had turned to pulp. And it didn’t help her see Himple, the distance to which, truth be told, Prudence had no idea.
“I think that’s not a good idea,” Mr. Matheson said, moving to stand beside her and look down the road, too.
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “I think they will never let me out of Blackwood again once they hear of this.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Would you?”
“No. Not a chance of it.” He looked over his shoulder.
“Then you see my—”
Mr. Matheson suddenly caught her elbow and whirled her around so that her back was to the road and she was facing him. “What—”
“Step back, beneath that tree.”
“The tree! I don’t—”
“Step back, step back,” he said, pushing her a little, moving with her, pushing her until she had stepped back beneath the low boughs of a sycamore tree and into its shadows. “Make yourself small,” he muttered.
“Make myselfsmall?How does one make themselves small?” Prudence tried to turn, to see behind the tree at whatever it was that had caught his attention, but his grip of her elbow tightened. “Don’t—”
It was too late—she’d already seen what Matheson had seen. Dr. Linford had strolled out of one of the buildings up the street and was walking down the road.
With a gasp Prudence whirled around and pressed her back against the tree. “Oh no, ohno,” she whispered frantically, her mind racing. She could picture Dr. Linford forcing her into his coach and turning about to take her home. “Where is his carriage?”
“Down at the bottom of the hill,” Mr. Matheson said. “Don’t panic.” He moved closer, so that he was practically touching her.
“How can I not panic? He’ll see me!” She grabbed the lapel of his coat and tried to make herself small.
“Be still, or you’ll draw attention to—”
“I amfinished!” she said, jerking his lapel in frustration.
“Miss Cabot,” he said sternly.
Prudence would never know how it happened. She knew only that before she realized it was happening, his mouth was on hers. His lips, those gorgeous lips, soft, warm and pliant, were pressed against hers. His tongue was at the seam of her lips. His body was pressed against hers.
And it wasexquisite.
Her knees began to buckle; his arm went around her waist as if he knew it. He pulled her into his body and angled his head, slipped his tongue into her mouth. His hand was warm against her neck, resting there as he kissed her, his thumb stroking her jaw. Her breasts pressed against his body, and she wondered, insanely, if he could feel her heart slamming fitfully against his chest. His lips moved lightly across hers, softly shaping them, tasting them as if they were some delicacy, and Prudence heard herself moan softly. When she did, the pressure of his mouth on hers intensified, his tongue moving deeper, sweeping against her teeth, her tongue, her cheeks. His hand cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.
It was not Prudence’s first kiss, but it may as well have been. She was sparkling. She actually felt as if she were sparkling. The air in her was being pushed out by her pounding heart, and she thought she might explode from the delectable torture of his kiss. He shifted against her, pressing her against the tree, and she was aware how intuitively and eagerly her body responded, curving into his, melting against him. He was hard and erect, strength and desire pressed against her and soaking into her. It was the most sensual thing that had ever happened to Prudence. It was the most exciting, provocative and arousing thing that she could possibly imagine. She didn’t want it to end, to never end—
But then, suddenly, it was over.
Matheson lifted his head. His eyes swept her face as he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “This ispreciselythe reason you should not be left alone on this road, Miss Cabot,” he said hotly. “Scoundrels roam every corner of this earth. I don’t like to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
“Oh,” she said.
“I didn’t mean that to be a compliment to my sex,” he snapped, and leaned to one side to peer around the tree. “I don’t see him.”
