Page 56 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
Kane hated what he had refused Gus last night. But he had refused himself, as well. What choice did he have?
She had left him last night, sullen, soon after they’d finished their meager dinner. The maid had made up two bedrooms, ashe had requested through his go-between. He had retired to his own room, then tossed and turned in his bed. Yet he was here to do a job. So was she. They would pretend. They had to.
“That’s the idea, yes.” He dared to hope that, as they went about their search these next few days, she might act like a woman in love—even if, at the moment, she hated him.
“Do you know anyone in this village we’ll go to?” she asked.
“Not a soul.”
She gave a nod. “I’ll wear my breeches, then. Easier to ride in.”
His mouth watered, his lashes fluttered, and he turned aside so she could not see the hunger that surged through him. He picked up their dishes and marched to the counter to wash up.
“Good idea,” he bit off. “Do you have a coat to go with that?” How many men would love to see her bounteous breasts bouncing as she galloped?Hewould.
He blew out a breath and turned to face her.
The look on her face told him she understood his thoughts. She was a female who detected when a man savored the mere idea of her. “I do have a riding coat. More of a frock coat, thank you.” Her black brows arched elegantly. Her gaze ran down his form to his bulging flies. “Do you?”
He was erect. So high and hard, he hurt. But he’d be drawn and quartered before he’d turn away. “I do.”
She smiled, like a cat. “Marvelous.” She would have headed for the hall and the stairs.
“One thing.”
“Yes?” She was almost purring in delight.
“That first day, on the Malmaison road?”
“What of it?”
“You said you carry a knife.”
Her laughing eyes went dead still. “I did.”
“Do you still?”
“I can.” Her gaze darted to the kitchen window. “Do you wish it today?”
“I recommend it.”
“Because we have company?”
“No. Only as a precaution.”
“How charming.” She whirled away, her back rigid.
“Gus?”
She paused, her hand on the rail. “Yes?”
“Wear it from this day forward.”
*
Putting a horsebetween her legs did wonders for her outlook on life. Sour as she was about Kane’s refusal to have an affair without marriage, she was no shrew. She had been a royal tart at breakfast. She would not do it again. It did not make her proud of herself, and, heaven knew, she favored liking herself. She’d practiced the silly art of seduction on one man once too often, and he had acted on the invitation. Amber had saved her that night. Although not before Pascal Moreau had frightened her out of her mind, hurt her, made her bleed. His advances were because she had been foolish to flirt with him. That a deputy minister of justice, a friend of Vaillancourt’s, had nearly taken her virginity was not a fact she was proud of. Afterward, she promised herself she would be more earnest—and never flirt again. So wanting to be kissed and caressed by the likes of the British Earl of Ashley was not in her favor. Not when she was so intent on finding Amber. And he was so intent on never taking her.
Besides, she told herself, she preferred riding horses to men. While that was true—or she insisted it was—she liked watching Kane Whittington ride a horse. He sat tall and commanding in the saddle, and Gus grew fascinated by the play of his massivethigh muscles. Did he look like so much man naked? Would he crush her? Would she care?
