Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

His hand paused in its purpose, his pensive gaze returning to hers. “Don’t be frightened, misty angel,” he murmured. “I have no intention of harming you.” He glanced down at her injury. “But your ankle is badly sprained and needs to be tended to.”

Ariana nodded, feeling foolish. This was what she had wanted, was it not? To be found, given assistance?

He bent his dark head over her leg, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Ariana nodded again, candidly surveying him as he examined the swelling. He was striking, yet frighteningly feral; tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair that framed a hard and arrogant face. His features were severely masculine, his nose straight, his jaw square, his lips chiseled and full. His brows and lashes were thick and dark, highlighting the blazing blue of his eyes. It was the harsh lines around his eyes, Ariana guessed, that made him appear dangerous, as if he were capable of extreme cruelty if threatened

.

Ariana shivered.

“Are you in pain?” His tone was gruff, but his touch was gentle.

“No,” she whispered, stunned that she’d forgotten her injury entirely—despite the fact that he had been probing it for the past few minutes. “I’m not in pain.”

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips and Ariana was shocked by the transformation it made. When he smiled, he was magnificent.

“What’s the matter, misty angel?” he queried, reaching out to lift her chin. “Are you still afraid of me?” Ever so lightly, he trailed his thumb along the pulse in her neck.

Ariana shivered, shook her head. “No. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then you are the first.”

She recoiled from the severity of his tone, a harshness that was totally refuted by the gentleness of his touch. Added to that was her own confusing, quivering awareness of his blatantly sensual caress, a caress that left tingles of pleasure in its path. But in the end, it was the tenderness, as unintentional as it was palpable, that struck a chord within her, gave her the courage to continue. “If others are afraid, it could only be because you haven’t gifted them with your smile,” she blurted out.

He looked startled.

“Are we far from the manor?” she asked anxiously, remembering, in the unsettling silence, how long she’d been missing and how angry Baxter would be.

The ruthlessness returned, hardening the man’s expression. “Yes. You’ve wandered quite a distance. It will take some time to get back.”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

“You won’t even attempt it.” It was a command, not a suggestion.

“Then how …”

She never finished her question. In one motion he slid his hands beneath her and stood, lifting Ariana effortlessly in his arms.

She gasped, clutching his shoulders for support, feeling the hard wall of his chest against her body. Once again she was face-to-face with those incredible, penetrating cobalt eyes … eyes that reached to the very depths of her being.

“Still not afraid?” he taunted softly, his breath warm on her skin.

Slowly, Ariana relaxed her hands, flattening her palms upon his shoulders. “I’m still not afraid,” she replied, stunned to realize it was true. For some inherent reason, she knew this man would not use his enormous strength against her.

He blinked, drinking in the flawless features so close to his: the pert, upturned nose and glowing alabaster skin, the soft sensual mouth, the huge, innocent eyes as turquoise as Osborne Bay at the height of summer. She trusted him. That was a mistake. But in this case it was irrelevant. For she was not the reason he had returned tonight, so no harm would befall her.

The harm he intended was for Baxter Caldwell.

Ariana felt the imperceptible tightening of his hold mere seconds before he turned on his heel and stalked off into the fog, clasping her to his chest.

“I don’t know you,” she burst out after a few moments had passed, desperate to relieve the hard knot of tension that coiled tighter inside her with each step. Nothing had prepared her for a predicament such as this … she, who had never even been alone in a man’s company, much less in his arms.

A hint of a smile was Ariana’s only indication that her rescuer was aware of her discomfort … and its cause. “No, you don’t know me,” he agreed.

“Do you live in Sussex?”

“Not anymore.” His reply was terse, his jaw tightening so fractionally she would never have noticed were she not inches away.